the realization leaves you
with
a sorta bad aftertaste in your mouth
sorta like when you are taking some medicine tablets and
you’re trying really hard not to
get a taste of it on your tongue
but you do
you are the one who’s gotta live with yourself
for the rest of your life
and that bad aftertaste
stems from the fact that
you sorta, don’t like yourself, not really
not exactly a good impression, eh?
the inadequacies clamor
to be heard
now what?
rest of your life and you…..
When I say “what’s wrong” that’s another wrong
i don’t know how this works i suppose
or how i make sense of them
for me or for you
do i shape them into cubes of feelings
and sort them into neat little piles
the good ones on the left and the bad ones on the right?
and a little corner in the back
saved just for you, just so we might
you know, come back to it later and work it right
this time, just work it out right, right?
i don’t know how this works i suppose
i don’t know how this works i suppose
shaping them into cubes is what i propose
for me and for you
and just hope these cubes of feelings might make more sense
than the broken shards i’ve been carrying around
for me and for you
for me and for you
bury me in your body again
maybe
and only then
i’d no longer be up and about
in 4 of the AM with its quietude out
wrapping my tongue around your name
feels so good so I say it again and again
maybe
and only then
I’d no longer be up and about
in 4 of the AM with its quietude out
breathing in the smell of your hair
heals a heavy head and cover all repairs
maybe
and only then
i’d no longer be up and about
in 4 of the AM with its quietude out
No matter the man –be he your father figure, your priest, your doctor, your judge, your boss, your teacher, your student, your lover, or simply your dearest of friends– he will always have his moment. His moment when everything is just so; you’ll say something he doesn’t like, the light will be falling across your face in that perfect way, his hormones will be raging as they so often do, he’ll notice that you smell of flowers and sin, and you’ll realize you have never felt so small and alone.
His gaze will have become absolutely, intensely male.
Continue readingI don’t need the horizon to tell me where the sky ends
don’t need you, my love,
to tell me where I stand in the end
I’m out again on my own
dreaming of songs falling like dewdrops of a new dawn
hope stands alone
like a beggar on the street
finally finally finally
i’m back again on my own two feet
Birds are singing as I find myself still awake at dawn
they chirp by the cold windowsill
happily greeting their morning sun
Here I am staring at the walls again
just trying to lay low
’til my warm afternoon glow takes me away again
Here I lay blurring into time
Living and breathing but trapped inside my mind
What’s this trouble all about?
Guess I’ll just have to wait it out.
Snapshots 