That night I spent in your arms...

Good night, baby.
and it was a good night.

it was a gooooooooood night.

It was an even better morning, to wake up next to you

and know

you feel more for me
than just
friends
and just
sanity
and just
pragmatism

that my pragmatic hands mean more to you
than I can know.

please fall in love with me.
because i'd love to fall too
instead of being suspended in thin air
floating
on clouds and hope and tenacity
every day.

Just so you know

I'm not waiting around
planning my life without you in it

but please feel free to join me on my walk.

Amanda is...

writing you a letter in her head
to be spoken at a later date.

Have mercy.

I can't take this much longer.

so glad you'll never read this

so glad you'll never read this.
so glad you'll never know

one look can tear my heart from my eyes
one look can rupture my every thing.

one touch CAN corrupt
as it always does.
one touch should be enough to teach her

once burned,
twice burned,
thrice burned.

speaking of you,
one kiss never hurt you.

but it destroys me.
each one of them.

every
single
goddamn
weak moment
weak mind

every single kiss.

I guess I should learn not to play with lions.

Though they mean well, one misplaced hand
can tear everything apart.

I'm glad you'll never read this,
because it means
I don't ever have to say any of this to your face.

nothing is wrong, so wrong.

nothing is wrong,
so wrong.
so wrong.

nothing is threatening
to knock me

nothing is everything
i've ever wanted
and can never have.

self-denial. self-denial. self-denial.
is her mantra.

She must repeat this millions of times until she actually believes it.

Nothing has ever been so right
so wrong
because nothing is wrong.

away

Death by
slow
long
cold
lonely
walks.

Never again,
she tells herself.

When will you learn,
she tells herself.

His lips look like never.

His eyes look like never.

His skin feels like never.

His kiss tastes like never.

forsake,
forget,
regret.
Rinse and Repeat.

You know you will.

strum me off

strum me off to sleep
strum me off to weep my love
alone

bitten by all sorts of cold tonight

a walk has never been so lonely.

not sure how much more of this I can take

standing up under this
weight
ive placed there upon my own shoulders.

to get under your skin
is possibly the
worst thing i've ever done.

eggs in a basket, so they say
and ive got to agree with this one
it's when i need you
that you
walk
slowly
away
guitar in hand.

biting back
fighting back
pathetic weakness
pathetic patience
pathetic.

pathetic.

hey jude. let her into your heart.
please.

Things that have happened

as a man who gives thought to everything
(and everyone)
flattered and overwhelmed
that i would take up space in your mind
even
for rent
for a bit
just to maybe sub-let?

a fool's game
may be just the game
i'd play with you

your fingertips caress my skin
my lips
my hair
my hands
my pragmatic hands

well,
its been a long time since ive shivered like that

and so it goes.
the give and take and make and break
giving myself over to the fear
taking lashes from your lips
making something from what can never be
and breaking into a million pieces

you break it, you buy it
and my million pieces have your name written all over

seared into each part of me
by a hand
a kiss
a bit of bliss
gems in the ends
of your fingers
turn me on and up and bright

and now im begging you
to take a leap with me


i hope that's what you mean.

What the world tells the artist

the world tells the artist
it's all wrong wrong wrong

to an artist thirsting
to be seen
to be touched
by a people touched by his words/paint/clay/tune

when the world denies it is art,
it is most likely art
for the sake of making the world
so vehemently reject it

when the world tells the artist
it's all wrong wrong wrong
they are more than likely
so Right- Right- Right- winged
parastical eight-headed beast of darkness

this is why only the artist can stand and speak
for the unsung hymnal heroes
in the ghettos and street corners
behind dirt and grime
cowering over buckets and bags
of the littlest art.

Because the artist has shaken in the presence of the real darkness
and not the pathetic right.

And in that case,
it IS so wrong wrong wrong
and so perfectly full of greedy needy must-hears/sees/speaks.

Lips

Honey lips
tips of kiss
tense and tease
twine into me

unwilling and hoping all the same
sameness and symmetry
purse and pucker at the thought
of touching your tenderest touch.

when the skin-thin pads of flesh
send shivers down my spine
and tell my brain
you're kissing me and changing
my eyes, my lips, the way i feel this world
then i see it for the first time...

twisting and pushing me
into another realm
covered by fear
locked away by bolts of rejection

welcome to a place in me no one has been yet.

tread carefully - it's unchartered grounds
and muddy water
and slippery slopes from lips unkissed

twine into me
tips of lips
honey kiss

To Duck

Oh Duck
you were bought for a buck
and you may bring me such luck.

Scott is giving you to me
to make me very happy
....

this poem proves why i hate rhymes. BLARG rhymes.

Can't wait to meet you, Duck.

Hey you

i believe again
in all those butterfly feelings
and in the possibility
of burning up with something
greater than myself.

And maybe it's more than just my surroundings,
and maybe it's foolish as hell -

but this is a fool's game and no one knows it better than I.

you seem like too much
too much
but just right.
and it seems you see
to seem to me
that you know my true worth.

Ms. Keys tells me,
that's a real man.

so when the light shines in my eyes
and blinds me from myself
i hope you are there
to hold my hand.

Scott

Good morning sunshine.

How are you?

Glad to hear your voice
when I wake up and listen
I close my eyes and listen
and your Chicago Skokie ness
washes into my ears
forcing out all the bad of
the nightmares from the night before.

And it seems as if I can feel your arms
when I hear your voice.

Thank you.

Will I ever be seen

as breath-takingly
achingly
vibrantly
beautiful?

when I am the most beautiful woman
that he will ever know

then
and only then
will i relinquish the
carefully planned
and controlled
impulsivity...

and simply learn to love and be loved

With the same cloth

With the same cloth that binds us
we will be broken.
Sadly, and most certainly,
the right way to do this,
you will no longer cleave through me

I have the wherewithal to see
that with all you've been,
when I needed you
where I needed your touch...
you will still always be just my friend.

And so thank you,
for showing me a part of
this slice of heaven
even if it was just so I could learn
it is not meant for me.

For you..

I don't know much of anything
least of all myself.

But I do know what I deserve,
and how I've been shortchanged.
I refuse to be sold short
and
you seem to understand that.

So, thank you.
For respecting me
and still seeing this part of me
that seems to amaze you
(for now).

When I wake up in the morning and realize you are the best part of my day...

it is then that I know,
I know
I know...
I am glad to know you.