canto 1
I call her daddy my own. He felt nothing for her when the time had come for him to do something he fell and she felt nothing at all, nothing whatsoever. It is a cruel world, mateys, and the best thing you can do is curse God and die. Hard to ditch the pity act. Ditching is denying and there is much truth to the lie.

canto 2
Their eyes bubble in the open air, they fill to bursting and scrub until they scratch. **** drips. It's a sound that I will never forget. A sight that should be reserved for the dream world...a stench unrivaled.

canto 3
The Chinese bomber is persistent. One has to wonder why he bothers at all, seeing that his attempts have been futile up until the present moment. It's shoe week, so I guess he has his reasons. But this has gone on for far too long. If there were a way for me to stop him I guess it wouldn't hurt to try.

canto 4
Random parking lots and good God what have they done? I thought it was all over, these thoughts were through, these voices are mad. Usually it's not as upsetting. Your car door gets stuck, you know, it happens all the time. It happens every day, still you never get used to it, do you? You're always stuck inside that ugly mirror.

canto 5 (the "missing canto")

canto 6
I want to tell the world how good you are. Amazing and incredible. **** and *******. Talented and unrestrained. Honey nut Cheerios. You give it but I have a sneaky feeling you would rather be lost in a dream. A banal night vision. Comparably

canto 7
I want to make it better. I want to see you smile. What can I do? You are my own heart ripped from my chest and given wings to fly. Your smile is a lost treasure I would do anything to get it back to give it back to you, I didn't mean to take it away from you. You push me up against a stone wall and you don't even realize you're doing it. That my soul cries and prays for something real, for some kind of explanation or even an excuse would be fine right now. Instead I float. Not the way I like to float. I drift and crash, a dizzying spiral out of control, confused and dumbfounded by the realization that none of it means a ******* thing. What I thought was love turned out to be a jester's game, a joker's trick. You don't need me anymore.

canto 8
I hide myself behind a blanket of stone where you cannot spit fireballs at me without cracking an egg. Cold breeze tickles my news. It's not too chilly in this room. But the fireballs warm things up. "Blanket of stone"...what a stupid expression. Why do you have to be so hateful to me? How many times can a man say I'm Sorry without losing an eyeball?

canto 9
I have no right to feel the way I do. I don't think I can control it, though. This is one of the ****** up idiosyncrasies of my confused existence. Vanish without a trace and look for clues in the alphabet soup.

canto 10
Weariness is like a slug, a giant slug, a parasite infesting my body, hanging on and hanging out. A fire down below that waits for my imagination. My sleep patterns are getting ****** up but I'm not sure if I was sleeping or just dreaming I was awake. Under the impression that it doesn't matter? Well, you are a stone fool for thinking that way. You've never experienced the life-changer. Else you would know. But all I want to know is this: Why am I afraid of sleep?

canto 11
Things get slow. Patience is required, but I don't have any. Why does it have to be that way, o cruel dictator? You get a kick out of this ****, don't you?

canto 12
Spill your guts, maties, it's the only way you'll ever come out of this situation with even a shard of dignity intact. I know it's early and you haven't had time to adjust your eyes and your wrists for this delicate task. Go! Do it now before you lose confidence.

canto 13
We took a holiday and it was so nice. She stood there on that stage without a stitch of clothing on her voluptuous body. Baby, don't you let your hairdresser down

canto 14
Who doesn't love breakfast? Me, actually.

canto 15
I can't help it if I'm changing every day. Ask the question later, maybe my answer will be suitable. I don't think I can help you because I'm not like anyone you've ever known or will ever know or can ever know or would ever want to know and why do you keep wanting to know where I've been? I've been right here. Right where I've always been. Haven't moved a muscle.

canto 16
This is the 16th and I should be proud but the apathy seeps from my very pours. That little ******* was about to take a **** in the corner. When I picked him up to take him to the paper he dropped a couple of turds on the floor beneath me. I guess he couldn't wait.

canto 17
Sometimes things change so much that it's hard to tell if they're for the best or the worst. It is at these times that I enjoy a good evening on the water, enjoying my yacht and eating peanuts from another man's sack. Salted peanuts with pickled eggs and deviled ham with a side order of angel food crack.

canto 18
My wrist hurts and I've lost the will to **** socks.

canto 19
The lawn chair has been placed under extreme scrutiny. It's rocking motion is being scientifically tested and arranged for packaging. The physics of this miracle are in the process of logistical infiltration. You'd be surprised at how useful a rocking lawn chair can be in a world tangled in war. It's a good place to relax. For paranoids, that is.

canto 20
Bird feathers of a different post, it has never made a lick of sense and the promises made were broken. Who was that man in the bird suit? Why was he making all those funny noises? I'll have to investigate. Lawd have mercy I do believe I've **** my pants.

canto 21
Don't come crying to me if you feel misunderstood. I can read right through you and I know that all you're doing is fishing for a compliment. You will not receive one from me, Salty Dog, not because you don't deserve one. You probably do. But not from me. Perhaps you should take up your case with Hoda Kotbe. Who knows but that you might look really, really good on television. Just remember to feed the dog before you leave. He gets hungry. But he doesn't miss you. I don't mean to break your heart, but the rational man within me is very convincing when he tells me you are a real pickle.

canto 22
Those comments are found particularly offensive in light of the situation in the Gulf. You need to regulate your interest in beans. One day you'll fly to the Middle East looking for peace and all you will find are demons like the ones who raised so much hell in "The Exorcist". You don't want that, do you? Settle for Ranch Style and leave the diplomacy to the masters.

canto 23 (the "lost" canto)
I wouldn't wish this on a barrel full of monkeys. They say that time heals all wounds and I suppose it does. No "if"s, "and"s or "but"s. Don't believe me? Listen to 'em snarl. They're hungry for blood and sandwiches. I owe you nothing, so perhaps I'll send you a good time from New York. You gotta love a trapeze artist.

canto 24
I'm trying my best to change the world but the fact remains that the human race does not deserve the kind of tender loving care that I'm well known for. This holiday event will not include high temperatures or the kind of crap the weather people try to sell you.

canto 25
******* Valhalla. This is how it always seems to wind up, isn't it, Pinnochio? Just when you think things are getting better, BAM, ****** up again.

canto 26
You know you've reached a severe point of boredom when you switch to the Daystar Network and find yourself singing along to the bogus faith healers. Pecans on that one, please.

canto 27
Plug away, Sailor. Keep plugging away. When you get there you can say you plugged away with as much vim and vigor as a much larger man. Slough it off, O Great one. Keep sloughing it off. When you get there you can say you sloughed it off with as much skill and empathy as one might expect from a lizard. Or a monster frog.

canto 28 (the "twenty-eighth canto")
Come, look at my incredible collection of dice. Right next to my collection of mice. Next to that bowl of rice. Sugar and spice, everything nice. My head's full of lice. Don't think twice, just break the ice. Pup your puppy dog in the freezer.

canto 29
My toes are cold and so is my nose. I should be concerned with this situation but, strangely, I could care less. There are so many other, more important things to worry about. Like how many frosted flakes are in that box over there. And is there any milk left? And is it the real deal or that phony 2%? 1%? Skim milk is even worse. If it gets down to that point I'll save the money and use tap water. Don't think for a moment that I won't.

canto 30
Colored pencils expect risque answers to tame pencils. Unfortunately the quality of superior eggs is relative to the ice cream that has dripped down your shirt. You're starting to smell bad and I would highly recommend soaking in vinegar for an hour or six.

canto 31
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 32 (the "same as the 31st" canto)
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 33
Yazaa, yazaa, yazaa I told you I was gonna steal that car. You didn't think I had the guts, did you? But look who's laughing now! That guy with the big flower in his pocket must really feel like **** right now, realizing that his awesome vehicle is no longer in his possession. Maybe get an ice cream cone, maybe feel better.

canto 34
Come out of your hidey-hole, scurvy dog. Rat scabies be breathing down your neck and it's cold and old and you'll do as you're told. Pinch back that stray lock of hair, O Queen of Sheba. You shall spend the rest of your days parked on a green chariot overlooking Lake Erie

canto 35
You could have given me a reason for the season. Instead you had nothing to offer but a huge chunk of pepperoni that had mold growing all over it. Admittedly it was delicious but surely you could have come up with something a bit more expressive of the tender emotions I inspired within your fluttering heart.

canto 36
The prospect of a news reporter calling you a crack head based on information gleamed from your Internet social network profiles is quite terrifying, but when you tie the noose you might as well make sure it was time well spent. It's a shame you shaved your head because the painful truth is that now you bear a striking resemblance to Telly Savalas.

canto 37
Energy. That's what is required. And not just the kind of energy you can get from sugar, caffeine and butter. If it were that easy you could be **** sure that the Catholic Church would be the first in line to canonize it. They have a burning desire to fall off the wagon. "Which wagon?" you may ask. The one with the ice cream, of course. Don't be a fool.

canto 38 (a "short" canto)
If boredom is a sea in which one can easily sink into and drown in, I must be swimming the Atlantic.

canto 39
When the dog barks like that it's a sure bet that he's been neutered in the last few days. It's a sad and sorrowful sound that is only recognized by **** knockers in the deep woods.

canto 40
I could stare at the bars of this prison for the rest of my life. Okay, that's *******.

canto 41
Who was it that once said time is the only reliable concept in the universe? Oh, wait. That was me

canto 42
They tell you to wait. That's what it's all about. Wait, wait, wait, wait until I can almost feel my hair turning gray. The estimated time is currently number 7 the estimated hold time is 4 minutes, thank you for your patience. Well, you're welcome, comrade.

canto 42
I've only to surrender you to the world, lie down and wait for it to crush me.

canto 43
If I can only keep it together...if I can only hold it together this one time, I know the gravy train will come my way. Would it do any good to pray? This isn't the first time that enlightenment and illumination have reared their blessed heads. Would that I could live within them this time.

canto 44
Have I told you lately how much I hate to wait? Thinketh not that the Chair has lost it's financial imbalance, the very thread of chocolate that brought you here. It is still a very important and, some would say, a hot topic regardless of the amount of grime, sweat, blood and V8 juice is spilled on it's ivory shaped pear seat.

canto 45
The shadows turn into cloaks, dark itchy woolen capes that enfold the nothingness beneath them, the nothingness of being. You could have worked a little longer and a little harder on that one, amigo.

canto 46
It's been awhile but my wrist still hurts and I've written the word "moon" on the back of my hand with a Sharpie.

canto 47
I'm movin' this **** to WordPress. No I'm not. **** WordPress. Press WordFuck. Word FuckPress. On and on and on and on and not the least bit clever or entertaining. But I do like steaks.

canto 48
I swear to God I wish I had never taken that first hit of ****. Look what it's done to me. After so many years, I guess I was only fooling myself. Or maybe I was so dumbed down that it didn't seem to matter. But now things have changed. And I can do nothing about it. Dump a can of Campbell's Chunky Soup into a bowl, throw it into the microwave, let 'er go for three minutes, let 'er cool down in the oven for a couple more, stir in a quarter cup of Tabasco sauce, let 'er cool down for a little while longer, mix in a ****-load of Cheez-It reduced fat crackers and then go to ******* town. Go to ******* town, I say, **** the stoner days.

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth shaved calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - gentille lace
Stage lighting and mace
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over

façade of savored tastes - savoir faire
voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / behind soft curtains / kept behind his in-betweens unseen (*****) stage hands spot light polishing knobs “my name is Job…”
but what if ...
... the truth and what presently others see
Diva or DILF
     to believe or not convincingly
could be / only amateurs who attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt
Sunken cheeks of graveyard sheep
Lip syncing nubile twinks insomniacs
Dry shave stubble style…

      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?

To  prove his swan-lake / a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****)
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
      define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,

it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

sir, i write today to tell you a story that i would define as good enough that i ask you not to interrupt me until i’m finished, not because i think you could, but because, and i’m sure you can believe this, i’m not often allowed to speak my mind long enough for anyone to retain any information. so now that we’re clear on that point, your student has a story to tell.
according to myers-briggs, i’m infp. i’m a feeler, not a thinker, but don’t get me wrong, i think more than anyone else i know, just about my feelings. some of my thoughts are simple, ordinary. some of them are, as expected of me, a teenager’s troubles: school, crushes, fighting with friends. in an environment like this every day, i’m bound to succumb to the will of my own young emotion, and i like it that way. but some of my thoughts are complex, confusing for me. they’re so freaking confusing i would probably have to resurrect shakespeare himself to see me in all of my bardolatry and turn my thoughts into something worthy of being analyzed for centuries after my comparably short life. i tell you this only because i am convinced you probably think the same way—you think extremely normal and expected things because you live a normal and expected life. you also probably think extremely complex things that would require a well thought out night of reading the dictionary to put into words understood by the american mind. i also tell you this because you have made me think both ways as most inspirational teachers have—who else can make your average teen worry both about average teen things like unfair grades and say something inspiring enough that they have thoughts worthy of shakespearean translation? this, sir, would probably be one of the reasons i look up to you. and i don’t say that lightly, just as you tell me you do not tell people they’ll do great things lightly.
i write also because you told me i would do great things. i’m sure once i gather these words in a less poetic manner and say them to your face, you’ll be very annoyed with me bringing this up again. i’m sure you thought little of it. but i need you to know that after what is close to a year and a half of basing my decisions on your words, i’m compelled to write that i’ve decided you’re right. just not in the way you were thinking. i think i’ll march. i don’t think i’ll lead a march worthy of thousands. i think i’ll publish a book. i don’t think i’ll be anything close to famous for it. after much reflection, i’ve come to the conclusion that the word great falls under too many ******* definitions. you meant great. as in significant. but i’ll allow myself a touch of narcissism to tell you that i am too intelligent to let myself believe i am in any way special or significant anymore. i am altogether average - but you have to admit, i’m pretty ******* good at making myself look otherwise. i even conned you into thinking i’m something great, as in significant. but i can admit myself that i am a definition of great. i’m great. as in good, in the sense that means i march to make a difference and i publish a book to help the reader who understands what i mean in the lines. i write this because i spend too much ******* time thinking about what i would say if i had the chance. i am great as in good because i have chosen to write this so someday i can make sure the words i’m writing make sense, to you, the person i am writing them to. sir, i realize now that i am no grand philosopher here to make myself into something significant. and you aren’t either—but if you don’t mind me saying, you are one of the best great as in good philosophers i’ve ever met.
you can keep an eye out for me. you may find my initials on any book and you might see me tutoring at the junior high. but i will never turn into something significant. i don’t see that as an important part of being great. my teacher, i see the utmost importance in making myself into something so good that i radiate the feeling of volunteering at the local shelter. anyone can make a difference. i want to make many. thank you for helping me see that i’m capable of it, whether that was your intent or not. i know you probably thought nothing of what you said to me, but you must have realized by now that i’m told often that i’m a disappointment. i won’t let myself be that to you. or anyone else.
in case you were wondering, when you do receive this in a revised email or letter or even a thought out speech, i’m interested in your philosophy.
signed,
a boy with an ever changing name(though privately, he really likes arlo as his new first middle name. it’s sophisticated but dumb, like he is)

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over
façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneathe it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / the curtain / is unseen, but what if ...

... the truth and process to what presently one sees
or believe
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfelt under layers & layers
of trial and errors / contempt?
      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile and devilish wicked secret ?
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath

to prove that swan-lake
a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song timely hummed & remembered well
priceless history murals' on passing face
all spoken thoughts performing down the lace
      define yourself, how the flight of life from embers
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with grace,
it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

With nary a thought to pose or process
With scary, a way of thinking
I am someone, or the type who, tends to do certain things in a certain way
But what is it worth if it does not read well?
Or to call someone who sounds like yourself and the ensuing contrast of awkwardness
**** n' ****, luck or gettin' lucky in any way colloquial terms for coitus or *** in general, I've none which is not to say I've not in the past or won't in the future but right now there is no significant two-way companionship which I really do want for a variety of reasons to be.
To simply, with cliche, be.
No such comfort will exist in my life for longer than a comparably short while, it would seem.  Nope, no happiness for me, only discomfort, depression, and stress.
No such great is a thing as a two-person love and experience.
And I am alone, truly.
And I am alone, more truly than my peers or fellow poets or parents or family or any other being sharing a universal genus or scientific similarity.
You know nothing of insanity so stop spouting and spewing this beautiful word and defaming and relegating it to a common "lol" or emoticon or any other thing that is obviously below it.
Standard crusted creation of melting erasure dissolving dissipation and dead-eyed cuffing stuffs stuffing still with tough metal roughs of through-bred thoroughly fed fattened and read something a little like this - DISGUSTING MUSK-SCENTED RUSTING HORMONE RIDDEN DERISION OF A TEENAGE HUMAN ****.
Operated in an operation inside of an operation on a mechani-borg.

Drag/Queen

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over

façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / her soft curtain / kept unseen,
but what if ...

... the truth and process to what presently others see
     to believe or not
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt

      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?

To  prove his swan-lake / a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****)
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
      define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,

it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

sometimes I notice that the snow falls comparably to how I do
and lands with the intention of staying awhile
so I stare in awe at the crystals of ice glistening
over a blank sheet of perfection
and maybe that's how you see me
but i'm freezing
i can't give you warmth and comfort
but that doesn't stop you
from laying down and making snow angels
that watch over me and make sure that
I won't be cold for much longer

Copper walls insulated the cold heart of gold,
   with limbs of steel extending out,
touching the comparably icy concrete floor.
   The perfectly symmetrical skull of bronze contained
   an inhumanly small encephalon of cobalt,
packed with scarlet wires and a
near invisible flashing microchip.

Alone in the sterile room,
the infantile Adam,
now standing for the first time,
observed his surroundings as he further
         extended out his limbs – taking his first steps.

Passing, leaving
Coming, going
The ebb and flow of knowing
is full of feeling.

Comparably, vulnerability brings
harder falls
but higher peaks
I am no gambler.

Magnet to me.
Never leave.
Irreversibly, your lover.
Permanently wed.

Hold me, hold me...

Exit stage left.
And you never come back.

Locked inside,
lonely, but void of all other feeling--
a novacain heart.
Susceptible to sentiment, no longer.

How do you love when love always leaves?





I don't know how

I like bugs, rocks, and the color of mud
Earthy critters who scratch and plod their way up my spine
Your walls were lovely to talk to
and disembodied hands may be comparably so to hold
But I did not dare move to do so

I’d sing soliloquies for your amusement
I’d transcribe your affections,
Better than you or I could ever feel them
So frangible and infrequent
Yet blazes like the Eternal Flame,
Your windows verdant and of the Earth;
a mane of ribboned russet
Your bow is steadied with precision
Whose compass surely does not need or require me
Nor mine yours

You must be fond of honey hair that twists and turns
and splattered spots uncorrelated
Scattered across the face
Plump lips that pose in anticipation
For words spoken in jest and sincerity
Oftimes conflate and converge
Conceive a certainty two would only know
Should they only recognize in a mirrored flame

Both deny and protest but surely
Both magnetic and bewitched by the other
In a fashion that is both sinful and edifying
Subscribing to no particular Sect or Order
But this imperceptible tug is a religion of itself is it not?
The feeling of enlightenment and the fervor
Is unlike any one thing experienced by men and Devils alike
Feverish and decelerate,
It is a slow and radiant burn
Such assumptions may feel erroneous and presumptive
But unquestionable at your core nonetheless;

Maybe suffering from days long since gone by will
Collapse any hope I have to have you
You said you rarely get what you want
So let me give it you

Because you have ****** yourself  
You have made yourself a prophet,
and so it shall be self-fulfilling
I imagine that you’ll never have it
Perhaps a ship whose voyage is lulled,
slow and shallow
will wash onto your shore,
tired and hungry you will feed it
As it takes from you
So you don’t have to feel as much or as affectingly
As I make you feel, with roots so entangled and abyssal
This I have known, because I am inclined similarly
Just as two positives will never meet,
Just as Endymion and Selene,
Gods of the Moon and Sun
Cursed to orbit and never elope

I have been orbited and have revolved around,
But never loved or in love; so I wonder
If it would consume us or hurl us forward
Into a void of which there is no escape
Instead of ruminating on what may
Giving into it and surrendering

Never experiencing the frailty
Of something that touches one’s essence
For fear of being changed forever

To the Sun,
it is more convenient to love the Clouds,
and the Moon
better suited to love the Sea,
because they may touch more closely

And never wonder what could be.

Nest of fellows
arguably more inclined
to do more harm than
the ex-wife's final remarks
before pseudo-suicide

Den of citizens
comparably less deceived
and less fallible than
our glorious senator's last yearning
in anticipation of regret

do as one does
and ye shall be reprieved
do as thoughts should
and ye shall be crucified
hope for man a flickering screen
white noise television

like hordes of bats
in white sky,
spoke my youth
lethargic and weeping
demonstrating lost causes and futile preparations
for a moment
or two...
so supreme and devastating

indecipherable!
a calamitous set of expressions
one withheld and others withdrew
and now, ultimately
scabbed over

we would continue this place
we would forfeit our cruelty
our good intent
and our willpower
in order to cherish our Earth
and let ourselves sink back down into its sultry soils
once more, and then again.
And once more!
and then again.
Like a lion attack!
a million exploding suns
a million bubbles bursting
and then everything is done.

How familiar this dark feeling
of being given the gift
only to wake from the mist of a dream
and find only torn wrapping paper.

Know that when you touch my hand
a comparably sized fist of energy
lifts my rib like a window blind
and wakes a tired muscle from dissolution.

The horizon in the West is a golden peach
but only through the lens of smog
which tells us this beautiful lie
in apology for its slow caress of death.

Some of us were born to spread a terrible disease
and can only hope to dress in colorful beads
of opal, purple lilac, and quartz
lest we let it feed on our own unbecoming.

I will not say I have not carried a sickness all my life
-- dragged this rotten sack of fruit through the dirt
in hopes of reaching the earth's end
to roll it off into the infinite black.

Writing for someone
That’s not even there
Still add songs to her list
That I may never share
When she goes unresponsive
Not sure if she’s conscious
And lately
It feels like she’s fading
For good
I just want to reach out
But not sure if I should
For she wouldn’t
So comparably  
In me delight
Does not seemingly care
What I’m doing tonight
And despite all I’ve done for her
Leaves me in lurches
Just pondering plummets
From summits and perches
Desertion
Dissociates
Intimate friends
From potentially more
Than beginnings and ends

I have pleaded for a very long time with you and myself for a solution to the doubts and suspicions you had. I would take them away from you in a heart beat if i could, and that is why i spent 9 months swallowing my dignity and taking hits from your anger, because i understood it came from a genuine place of frustration.

"If you lied because we were in a bad place then you would have no reason to be honest since then."
This statement really confused me because the place we were in that caused me to lie, looking back, would not have caused you to break up with me had i been up front with you before confirming to go on a very random lunch. In my head when justifying myself, we were in a comparably bad place for a meaningless lunch to occupy your mind (and i now know this alone should have caused me to never go from the start, and that i do not have to feel obligated to be nice to people that mean little to nothing to me), because it was not important to focus on while we worked on us. I understand lying was the worst thing to do, but it was because i did not want a distraction from working towards a happy future together. You were all i had. It is not worth the unnecessary pain i put you through, and even if you are ever able to see the truth i will forever know i did this to you because of my poor judgement. I am sorry for this and will be for the rest of my life.

The bad place we are in now is different, with us being in this place because of my poorly decided decision to lie for the better good of what i thought would help us focus. To continue any lie since i told you everything would not help to sustain a real relationship, which is what we are now fighting for now. I am not concealing anything anymore because this is more serious of an issue, which is why it has been 9 months as opposed to the week it usually takes us to sort out things. I lied when i did not think it was meaningful enough to worry about, and with someone i have held so dear to me i cannot afford to not be honest ever again.

I hate addressing details because i have said this all before and it doesn't seem to help, but i want to speak on the discharge. Ever since you have known me i have had discharge and always wore a liner, and i'm sure this is something you have always known unless i dabble with thongs for you. Even my mother is aware of this, and if were sharing everything i have been to doctors for this, but i was told it is normal for my body if it is a daily thing that doesnt change. Just like my period, it is abnormally normal. I had never been sexually active before you, and liners were already a normal daily occurrence for me. Not to give too much detail because i was always insecure about the amount i have had daily since i began my period in middle school, but i change my liner (which i constantly have in my backpack) almost every 4 hours or so.

Normal girls don't usually have a problem with discharge whether they are *****, exercising, or just existing, liners are meant to be used solely towards the end of periods. Changing often throughout my day is a schedule i have had in my mind for years prior to working out, and with working out came more frequency to change it.
I went to lunch after morning zumba and a psych class, and i left in so much of a rush to see you after i finished my meal i was not as **** i as usually am about that kind of hygiene. I was also still wearing my gym clothes that day because we did not sweat as much as usual, which meant it was one of few days i did not shower after zumba. Combine all this with me in a horrible and guilt inducing panic, and you have me with nasty stuff i try so hard to hide from you on a normal day basis. I have no control of my body, and i understand that normally discharge means something ******, but my body has never been strictly like that. No matter what causes the discharge, it will look the same if it has been there for awhile (aka since the morning due to zumba). Been there implies both still inside me and on the liner itself (i know its tmi but it is important you understand, it exits my body when i go to the bathroom or simply just exist throughout the day, or quite possibly when i am ***** to make room for new discharge. These are all reasons as to why i wear liner constantly. That is probably why it was there, given i got very ***** when we were in your room so it got rid of things from my workout that morning. I have had this body and problem since i was 12, so i really hope you see that i mean it when i say this was most definitely the reason for what you thought was new). If we are sexually active and i do not handle it in the bathroom promptly after, it will be the same consistency later on. I know that sounds like a long winded explanation, but that honestly is the reason for any discharge ever for me, and i really don't have anything to lose if you knowing details like this could show you the truth.

The extent of my discharge is frustrating to me to hold as a reason that i have wronged you, because it is absolutely not due to me doing anything ****** with another person, let alone not from even being *****.  This again comes to knowing me as a person. When you first saw me naked and wanted to eat me out, and im sure for awhile after that, i was always particularly dry down there because of me over cleaning what i have always struggled with. I am very self conscious about this and i hope i made sense explaining this, given the only person who knows close to as much about this is my mother, so i have never had to truly explain it before. I believe going back to day one of knowing me should help piece together what i have been trying to tell you for so long.

As for my *****-ness, this was the first and only time i had lied to you, and i was so ashamed for such a stupid lie i was very excited and appreciative to hug and kiss you, feel your embrace and have you call me yours. I felt so unbelievably bad even though i did nothing, and could not have been happier to see you, especially due to the fact you were upset with me the night before (it could have been a couple due to the weekend, its hard to remember now but i do know we talked in a car and it ended badly before i had to leave) and having you upset at me for just about anything makes me so sorry and miss you so much.
I am and have always been ***** for just you, and i feel i have been more comfortable to express that this last year than others, as i have become more comfortable speaking intimately like that with you.

My judgement was wrong when i sided with zeze, but we were both deceived, as well as literally all of my other friends, just so he could get in her pants. I mean this when i say it was everyone, amar, saba, ayah, reema, me, zeze, reem. Everyone repeated that he was such a great person and zeze had nothing to worry about. It seemed so ridiculous that we could all be that stupid, and i hate that us "knowing" him from high school gave him some sort of advantage. It wasn't a lack of desire to cut him off, just us giving people the benefit of the doubt that did not deserve it, because we thought we knew the person he was. With all this said, i could not be more sorry for not seeing your intuition for what i now know is the truth, and i have said this before. I am sorry, you were 100% right and i am ashamed for not believing you.

I love your mother dearly,
but i was not exploring my options.
I knew the ******* and everyone else in my friend group since high school, and i never wanted to pursue them and therefore never have.
I knew you for two days and fell in love with you.

You are my everything, and you became that the first time we sat in the ugl together and you completely boggled my brain. You bring me things i did not know i could obtain from another person, and even with you thinking the worst of me my love has never wavered.


I know this is a lot, but I write this because no matter how angry i am to think you could see me wanting to do something with anyone else but you, i love you more than i see myself ever loving anyone. Please don't make me convince you anymore that i love you enough to never want/have wanted anything or anyone else in my life, because that has been the hardest part. I have been with you through your worst times, and when i lied we had finally gotten through so much of it. I'm so sorry.

I will never forgive myself for believing that any lie, even if it was small and meaningless in my mind, would be okay and cause for a better focus and future. I was not in the right head space at that point in time, where it was the beginning of isolation from my friends. I also had moved back home after leaving for the first time, and because of this, also isolated by my family that has still been going on till this day. I should have known better than to even plant a seed of doubt in someone who was my rock and my everything. I am so sorry for thinking that any lie is okay, no matter how harmless i think it is. I knew this prior to lying, and it was just a bad and panicked judgment call that should not have happened. This was a panic that existed solely because you were all i had left in my life that i cherished more than anything, and did not want to give anyone or anything a reason to take you away. Even with you struggling with yourself at the time, i honestly believe you would not have been as angry with me as i thought you would be. There was no reason to believe you wouldn't have understood the awkward position i was in, and i really ****** up for choosing to lie to spare you from being uncomfortable. Granted, you probably would have given me the amazing advice to simply not feel obligated to have lunch with someone i didn't know too well anymore just to be nice, and none of this would have happened. I know that now and i really hope my mistake wont ultimately rip away the most valuable person i have for reasons far worse than what actually happened.
If thats not karma, i dont know what is.

To a certain extent i deserve what i got to show me no lie is an okay one, but i refuse to lose you over something that i did not do. It took a lot for me to own up to such a big mistake, and i feel my courage was depreciated because of the what if's it created. I do not blame you for having them, but after so long i just wish you could see how they are not plausible.

Please imagine yourself in my shoes, and how frustrating it is to be so stubbornly accused of something you did not do for so long.

I had no reason to seek other people, i was finally happy to see you having the mental energy to start to rebuild yourself into the beautiful person i have always seen you to be.

I really want to forgive you, but i genuinely cannot while knowing that you believe i am capable of cheating. I also cannot see how you can say you forgive me when you still doubt my truth. I do not understand what exactly you forgive if you still do not believe me. It makes all my efforts to keep such a beautiful soul in my life for nothing if you do not see my truth for what it is. I spent so much of my being to help you realize i am being truthful, and to lose you after so many months of commitment breaks me. I feel as though maybe your mind is stubbornly using these false accusations as an excuse to move on without guilt for other reasons, or just using my existence as a way to remove all your life frustrations without fully realizing it. I mean it to the very bottom of my core when i say i have never strayed from the desire of you and just you. I would not plea for months to a person and put them through all this, or myself frankly, if i was not being completely honest in what i'm fighting for. I chose you bean, and after being **** on for something i did not do i was still willing to chose you.

I was undoubtedly convinced that this year was certainly going to show you how ridiculous the accusations were and your worth to me, and end with you finally giving me at least the beginning pieces of trust i have fought so hard to regain. Maybe i now must realize i am simply not enough. I did more than i thought was humanly possible to fight for someone. I hope this moved you in some way, because it is the last ounce of energy i have in my body to give away. This has ****** me up for so long, please believe me in everything i have told you. You are not a fool, and it would mean the world to not be thrown away for false accusations. For everything i have done for you, please do me this kindness and remember me for who you know me to be. And please mean it fully and truly if you ever decide to do so.

I love you so much Thomas.

Masculinity is pervasively formulaic
and just a bull in the forest to me
Women are far more genuinely human
and breathe comparably better air

i already know the answer
but not the why
just to know
i'll survive
or guilt
built up inside
something to hide
back when i wrote disguised
and omitted, comparably to have lied
outside, my mind
dark thoughts that linger behind
lying just a skip away in the subconscious
the past haunts
the trauma that binds
the things i have still yet to find

Why have you captured my heart
To not want it
And how did you do it
When most fail
I'll do better
Please reciprocate
You never gave me a chance
Before I entered your sphere of hate
Is my bad side really that bad
Comparably
No, it isn't.
But you were never here to be gone
So I'll just be me doing me
A queen

It is nice, it is so nice,
To be happy, yes, to be happy,
Nothing else is comparably nice.