So Loved

I love you so much…

it makes my soul quake,

my heart shiver,

my eyes water,

my hands tremble,

my knees shake,

my lips quiver,

my brain totter,

There’s no other,

nor one better,

no truth vetted,

no warm sweater,

my blood letted.


Come here,

I’ll touch your hand,

your arm,

your shoulder,

come closer,

I want to taste the tea on your tongue,

my index like velour on the curve of your ear,

and fingertips building (desire) with and within you,

you can close your eyes,

but I know that you see me,

feel me,

and the fire of my breath,

at the nape of your neck,

you cannot escape,

this seductive cape,

I love when you run,

I laugh when you hide,

like a child I can’t see,

but the wild part of me,

it knows who you are,

and feels you afar,

you want me to scar,

you want me to bite,

like ashes to fire,

the depth and the height,

and deep in your eyes,

the blue and the black,

as you realize,

relentless attack,

I linger on lips,

the tip of your nose,

I’m taking in sips,

removing your clothes,

we’ve come to the end,

and out of the woe,

no longer a friend,

the buck to the doe,

remembering still,

the day that we met,

voluptuous pill,

and you did I vet,

I want to go back,

I wish to see more,

it’s you that I lack,

now open the door,

I stand and I wait,

to pine and to dream,

I went through the hate,

am not what I seem,

I want you,

I love you,

I’ll keep you for good,

so look in my eyes,

and do what you should.


I love kissing her face,

mind racing,

fingers touching her neck in that place,

heart pacing,

lips on her skin,

hand on her hip,

another moment of sin,

and the feel of her lip,

the smile and the pant,

the scent and the heat,

my palm at a slant,

and the texture is sweet,

smooth and moist,

things thought,

but never voiced.


The wonder of loneliness is that it only comes when you need someone,

and they’re not there,

their words are all undone,

and you question deep within- did they ever even care?

but the answers never come,

though you open every door,

it’s hard to find the sum,

when all you really want is more,

a penny glinting at the bottom,

of a fountain with a pool,

through the leaves that fell in autumn,

when the days were short and cool,

and the colors are all faded,

as your hopes are dashed and torn,

but in the heat you’re cold and jaded,

wishing you were never born,

so you try to fake a smile,

but your teeth have all withdrawn,

acid burnt from all the bile,

as you try to run your con,

all the people see you stumble,

when you walk across the lawn,

eyes so low and head so humble,

you’re enticing as a yawn,

and the truth is it’s no wonder,

that you never feel alive,

with the weight that you are under,

can you even count to five?

I don’t know if there’s a moral,

I’m not sure if there’s a hope,

but if you choose to don a laurel,

just make sure it’s not a rope.


There are quite a few stars up there. I spent several nights this week chasing them a few thousand feet higher, never quite satisfied that I’d seen enough. They tend to elude my gaze more oft than not. Shooting stars of the Perseid variety. Scorpio is moving on in the expanse and I feel more exposed when it’s not in view, but I suppose it’s always there.

I’ve been slowing down a bit lately, though my lower gears are by no means lax. Truthfully, I still go pretty hard in those post eve hours. Life has been busy about me; friends losing lovers and kin, rumors and tremors abounding around me. I spend time with people whose company I enjoy, and they tell me I’m wanted (where others knew not.)

“It’s lonely at the top.” they say. I say ‘more so at the bottom’. I watch as lovers walk by holding hands, locking eyes, smiling warmly, moving closer as they pass me by. Tell myself I just need to be patient, wait a little while and hope… I suppose. Does seem hopeless though, the girls I’ve seen have been dismally disparate from what I think I need or want. One still stalks and slanders me, one is a junky and yet another a meth addict. So, maybe… I mean it’s possible that my selection process is fundamentally flawed. For that reason I’m alone, and I see a few pretty ones from afar; think to myself, “wait and watch.” See what she’s like for a little bit, because if I don’t, they end up hitting me pretty hard.

Courtship seems direly tedious at this age. We basically know what we want, who we are and how much we can stand; but we don’t know how long it might last. Personally I’ve resolved myself to believe that love won’t last forever… Honestly I think it’s an escapist cop-out to think it’s not eternal. Realistically, having been married for over a decade, I know that people can change (for better or for worse.)

I like to think that I’m willing to get hurt again, but the old wounds fester in my hide. And I wonder how much illness should I tolerate as I convalesce? In any case, I don’t think that desperation has saved many souls nor hearts. So I’ll go to sleep soon, and it’s strange because I haven’t slept alone in quite some time. That’s not to say that I’ve been slutty, I haven’t, I just happen to have friends that don’t mind my perfunctory presence. It’s nice when there are no actual expectations after the lights dim. It is not, however, romantically fulfilling; nor is casual sex. I don’t know how they do that (not saying I haven’t had an odd occasion or two), but I get emotionally involved where I’ve dabbled* and I haven’t the capacity to disassociate my heart from my flesh.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new job, another opportunity to say something sweet to a girl I’d like to know. I don’t know her name, her face is a phantasm, her voice a trembling whisper in the distance. I do know that I’ll find her footprints out there somewhere, and somehow she’s going to allow my path to intersect her meandering. I don’t know how she’ll tolerate me, not the smell, not the heat, but the intensity. Like a nuclear lamp, I’ll burn white hot for decades yet. Though I’m not the beast of yesteryear, I’ve quite some distance to cover yet. So I’ll put on my shoes and I’ll walk, see you around.


I can’t feel and I can’t be the same,

when you look at I as if it’s me to blame,

It’s in your tears and in your hunger too,

within those fears and in that blurry foo,

up in that guy and in his scurry to,

If we could see, well then we’d make it true,

but everything is what it oughta be,

ain’t no tribe and no symphony,

there’s no vibe and where I’d rather be,

so hold me close and sing this song with me,

and in that draught is where the flow is seen,

for within these is lost the hidden scene,

I worry not for in this hole I dream,

for what was sought; you never had the cream.


It’s like someone took a catheter to my soul and drew out all the color,

replaced it with sand and charged me a dollar,

like having the hair,

every inch of my skin,

winced from off the brown into red,

only to find,

the salt and the lime,

I put on your drink,

are what you would use,

to rub and to treat,

to burn and to raze,

with steely blue gaze,

you cover wound,

but not with a gauze,

now bullets they graze,

when targets they miss,

but you could burn ice,

with only a kiss,

if only I’d seen,

the vice and the saws,

it wouldn’t amaze,

my heart like all this,

in all of my days,

with all of my flaws,

I guess I deserve,

to weep and to crawl,

but if you relent,

with everything spent,

though ever you stop,

the pain it will not,

remember this now,

considering how,

I’ll ever recover,

from such a good lover.