The Need Part II.

I see your dark form approaching, sheilded from the wind and cold of this December evening.
There's a wall between us, forced conversation, something that should scream "stay away."
The heaviness in the air between us tastes like me and you. It tastes like our scent.
Our sweat. Something missed. Something needed.
The conversation we're having, the tension in voices barely maskes the want to overcome feelings pulsating through us.
You're pressing firmly against the seam of your jeans. My thighs begin to grow warm and wet.
Chest heaving, bodies flushing, the desire we're barely constricting...only social decorum keeps us from having each other in the street.
No one will be watching us...

The Need Part I.

It's nights like these where I try to break out of my body.
I'm venturing, an animal that prowls under the soaking orange sky.
Shivers one through me. Cold. Anticipatory.
I've been begging for you, mind and body, this whole evening. The chemical fuels my desire; I feel my blood desending only to thrive in a place that throbs like my heart.
Inviting, my body prepares for your arrival, before you yourself even arrive.
My legs are pumping, back and forth. That same rhythmic motion to be reenacted.
I don't know what crevice of campus we'll find tonight, where our desires will converge. Against a wall, hopefully. I'd love to feel the harsh tears bound to happen on my back.

I'll Let You Ring My Neck.

I can't get you out of my heart.

Abrupt.

This silver charmless chain
I'm twisting around my fingers
like a beadless rosery.
Which is ironic,
because it seems I don't have a prayer.
It's an accusation I haven't made yet.
Something that eats away,
necrotizing the part of my brain
that has hope in our future.
I'm wearing spots into the base of my nails.
It's a sweet sting on either hand...
I can sigh.
Note the match of silver on my fingers,
and remember you want to be with her.

Don't let the black spot fade
Don't let me see his eyes.
I'm sick of crying these drunk tears,
don't make me comprimise.
I'm sick of laying in our bed
arguing ovet non-moot facts
Over why you want to leave,
When cheap vodka loosens your tact.

Wine Tasting

It's the pre-dawn slumber hour
We'll celebrate my immediate exhaustion
with twin trails of your champagne fingers.
Leaving warm and bubbly pathways underneath the skin of my bare back.
Cheers to us, our privilage.
Our silver knots and all.
I squint my eyes to face you
You blink back at me.
My eyes inhabit a red wine in the dark.
They'll be what steals your gold
and your bubbling heat.
They'll bring us to our drunken stupor
wherein truth
like that heat which spread on my back
is spilled from glass

Observe

Love under light,
a barebulbed light.
Harsh and revealing,
or shadowed in depth.
The shadow may last
longer than the feeeling.

Closet Space

In the closet of my heart,
I've got this broken toy.
He's not a wind up doll,
or a little wooden boy.
They scoffed at him on shelves
Said "he's worthless, look, he's broke!"
So he sat there, collecting dust,
Feeling existance was a joke.
One day I started scanning shelves
To find myself a friend,
And from the back I saw these eyes,
Their questions had no end.
Amoungst his black, they were bright
A sad and sharpened green,
Flecked with gold, rimmed iris dark
The deepest I'd ever seen.
I can't see what they think is wrong
So I take him home with me
I want to tell him everything
Give him something he can see.
He's broken, this toy of mine,
But I think he can be fixed.
I dig inside my closet heart,
but my toolbox is sadly mixed.
There's no one wrench to turn his head,
no screws to hold him tight.
But I love this gorgeous broken toy,
And I will treat him right.
He won't be sitting on the ledge,
watching people shoot him down,
In my arms and close to heart
Is where my broken toy is found.

Sweet Green Eyes

Oh my, sweet green eyes,
You're starkly contrasting the sheets where you lay
Oh my, brown eyes cry,
Hoping your heartbeat at my fingers won't fade.

Oh my sweet green eyes,
For such a long time I've needed today
Oh my, a brown eyed sigh
They'll show you the words that I wouldn't say.

I've spent tonight in your arms, under the light.
A full moon sky, where clouds are too high.
When a bittersweet chill holds us close,
will you forgive me, I'm not one to boast.
But for tonight, in all of it's time, you'll be mine.

Full lips meet on an orange night, the roof
top sky lights illuminating for proof
Where arousal delt out, your body comes in,
Tender embraces in our natural skin.

Oh my, sweet green eyes,
You're starkly contrasting the sheets where you lay
Oh my, brown eyes cry,
Hoping your heartbeat at my fingers won't fade.

Oh my sweet green eyes,
For such a long time I've needed today
Oh my, a brown eyed sigh
They'll show you the words that I wouldn't say.

On Risman Plaza Part II

Play on cobblestones round a fountain
watch water fall at constant speed
but now in the end of warm liquid sun
that penetrates everywhere on me.
girl, take pictures
and hipsters with their sunglasses
usurp my position

Welcome Home

Even someone waiting for the storm
knows that I have to brace the most.
But I'll be the one to survive the flood,
because I stay away from the coast.

Stiffness

Such sweet bruising on my lower back,
From the bodyrocking on solid tables,
And the stiffness that comes
from sleeping against someone all night.

A Shared Prayer

When I lie next to you as you pray,
I'll touch your arms while our hands are clasped.
I'm hoping to gain some redemption.
The fact I'm lying next to you,
in and of itself this deserves atonement.
So as you pray,
I'll pray with you.
I'll hope to be forgiven for our actions.
My heart flutters, I'm fighting a tear.
I'm seeing that someone so worldly,
Someone I know whose struggled,
is still holding onto faith.
It's beautiful.
You're beautiful.
And so I'll pray with you.

Bowman Hall, A Repeated One Act.

I can't escape being soaked tonight.
Thrown out by our own wanton desires,
we seek shelter from the sickly orange sky
in a campus building where I have class
Twice a week.
His hoodie feels heavy and constricting,
It's damp.
So is the rest of me.
My bangs are stuck to my forehead.
His soft, dark hair is on its edge.
We find refuge in a classroom,
where once you shut the door
it locks from the outside.
Our lips find each other in this blackness,
the color of our clothes, the room and our eyes
the perfect metaphor.
They're so warm, wet and dark.
I've never needed so badly
someone who I shouldn't have.
Someone who isn't mine,
but stolen from me.
And I from him.
Drastic measures call for drastic actions.
I'm atop him, jacket off,
and lips digging his.
My tongue fences for dominance against his.
It always was my strongest weapon.
Even in this room it's raining,
It oozes from every pore in the body
and every whole in the wall.
Every part of me is wet.
My eyes, lips and the places he penetrates.
My feet can't touch the ground from this chair.
I cradle his face in my hands.
His skin is warm to the touch, and I kiss him
while I rock back and forth.
He grabs ahold of my waist,
to force me up and down.
There's a rain in this room tonight,
running down my back, chest, brow...
and in between my thighs.
I can't avoid being soaked tonight.
His breathing matches my own frenzied pace.
I want him to mouth my name instead of hers.
And he does, laborously.
It's a game of call and response.
As again I let go of the name I've mouthed many nights past
And the erruptions of feeling that is to accompany it.
We finish with Act I.
But I'm looking into his darkened iris,
And I know only this:
There will be an Act II tonight,
but this play has yet to reach curtain.

Piercings Are Just Another Way To Say HELP

You helped me feel worthless
So I'll tell you what I'll do
Take out a silver needle,
and name it after you.
I'll clean off all the scum,
which means your complicated lies
Let it glimmer in the sun
And reflect inside my eyes
I'll chose a site of skin
that needs to be adorned
Something subtle, or not so much
And stab it with this thorn.
It'll penetrate and make a hole
That soon sparks violent red
and I'll push this needle through
right inside my head.
Oh, that hot, sharp sting
as it destroys this bit of flesh
Waiting for that sickining "pop"
that satisfies without the mess.
I'll take a little alcohol
For my nerves and shaking hands
And maybe shed a tear or two
I hope you understand.
You made me feel worthless
So this is what I'll do
I'll mutilate my body
and name it after you.

Unmodest Mouse

What's cold to you isn't cold to me
my body's in a deepening freeze
how could you want to be,
would you want to be,
something that hurts me?
And even though what I can see
isn't something that you took to leave,
who would want to be
something that hurts me?

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synestheic girl
paints you a picture of songs,
frightening anger, what it wold look like
if you could see it
with its wall of sound.
there's knives of orange, tipped in
a white glowing light
growing louder in front
of a horizontal burgandy sprial
being bushed in flea grey waves.
these angry assault on my eyes,
make me scream with the vibrancy
while my ears enjoy the complexity.
Sharph blue EKG graphs
cut straight through the dull grey of
the two AM orangle light of the road.

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the view from my heart

I've never felt more alone.
In this crowd of people, so in love with one another, I stick out like a gangrenous thumb. So painfully obvious, looked upon with pity and asked "what has done this to you?"
I can't believe how empty this feels. I'm in Heaven-on-Earth, honestly. Calmed, brought settled by the glorious vastness of the horizon line.
But this bitter, bioulous thing tears the back of my throat, sticks to me and keeps me from letting my tears get mingled with the reciding tideline. I want so badly, to the depths of the last cell in my small toe, to have you venturing beside me and to know you're there...
somehow.

I wonder...

Do you think the concrete love survived

Davy Jones

Davy Jones and I,
can trade an eye and eye.
Hearts so heavy with our hurt,
But not enough to die.

Myself and Davy Jones
Could trade off pitieious moans.
Hearts we cut out've our chest,
Leaving nothing but rib bones.

Davy Jones and me,
we're destined for the sea.
Hearts we kept in sandy chests,
Yet somehow we'll still be.

My dearest Davy Jones,
Your locket's silver tones...
Hearts that're kept with lock and key
while we two sail alone.

Refridgerator God

Since He'll Never Read This Page

I miss you so much. It's been only 3 days but I don't know when I lost you...it was so soon and yet so far. I can't make a heartfelt plea, I can't make my words eloquent enough, I can't find any feesable way to tell you about the heavy way my chest sinks down and each breath just lags. My only escape is sleep, and when I wake up I'm happy for a moment until I remember that we haven't spoken. I'm thinking about your moving, and how I'm dying to text you and my eyes are immediately filled with tears. God, I miss you so much. I miss everything and nothing and the way things were. Is she really so much better than me? Did you just fall for her more strongly or was I already on my way out? Everything I'm writing is about you.Call it a pipe dream or a little girls heart, but I love you. You told me you weren't sure for me, but I was for you. I love you . I love you. I can't tell you how
sure I am but this is something I know. I love you and I miss everything you were. Come back. Miss me...

So Many Lyrics

I will never understand you, when will I stop trying? I mean...
I would never wish bad things, but I don't wish you well. Could you tell?
I'm under your spell, like a girl in a trance
but I know darn well, that I don't stand a chance.
I know it's not right but it seems unfair,
the things that are reminding me if you.
Sometimes I wish we could just pretend,
even if only for one weekend...
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight, it ends tonight.
Just a little insight, to make things right
Now oh so easily you're over me
Gone is love, it's me that's supposed to be
Moving on you're not adorable
I want something unignorable!

Hangover

Today, I'm going to be a stereotype in mourning.
I'll cry untill my eyes swell shut.
I won't eat, despite a gnawing hunger.
A self imposed fast as punishment
for words that have forced their way out
like verbal vomit, spewing without end.
Ceaselessly telling the truth.

Just like Gabe Just like Matt.

All I want is a little reception
Light fingers, kisses, a little conception
Emancepation from a pity moan,
Xylephone bones, an inhuman groan.

Great. I'm fighting with my head again.
In my mind it's always war when
Violent visions of infedelity
Enroach my brain and sanity.

Millions of other men on Earth,
Eternally waiting to prove my worth.

And have you figured out the sign?

Cunningly hidden in every line.
Lovely that I'm giving so much
Understanding, kindness and love for touch
Empathy now my only crutch.

help.

Help please,
somebody help me.
I can't put words into my desperation, my humiliation at the complication of my character.
I'm writing free so that in these convoluted tales someone can find me.
My heart, made light with tobacco and cannibus continues frienzied and aticipatory beating.
I can't keep my head on straight and my baritone voice is cracking.
I'm reaching out to anyone who reads to find this by chance and identify with an all too common pain.
Compassion is my middle name.
I'm sinking and being pulled by the crushing weight of lonliness.
Sun kissed skin bitten in red and swollen and covered in the wanted marks of lust.
Or to permently keep his memory.
Please, someone reach other and help me.

On Swimming

I'm standing in water that's over my head,
and you're remaining in the shallow end.
Should I keep treading? Trying to stay afloat?
Roll onto my back to drift to where you stand
or do I wait for you to swim out, to grab my hand
....
and fall under the waves with me.

The 5 a.m. City Skyline

God.
You give me such sudden, and violent butterflies.
Taken aback, I'm still riding this adreniline high.
Why?
Oh.
Your kisses are penetrating, and arousing my dreams.
I wake up, you're not there and nothing is how it seemed.
Seems.
Come on.
The way you act and what you say says we're more.
Who exactly are you saving the title for?
Whore.
Me?
Bending over backwards is what everybody knows I'll do.
Wanting to be perfect, and warp myself for you.
You.

The Night I Need To Have

It's a cold bitter sky
that shields us from togetherness tonight.
What I wouldn't give to wake
bare skin brushing against air-cooled blankets
the tiniest muscles at attention
knowing as soon as you saw my eyes flutter
that you would crawl into bed with me to say good morning.
How I miss our title, king and queen
the prince and princess
our pedestal in the eyes of my peers.
You've opened my mind with time-altering experiences,
hyper sensitive and wanting. Hyper focus and heart pounding.
My words aren't poetry, just over drawn hyperbole.
Come back to me.

Operation GSMD

What a night, it's a shame
the way you say my name
sounds sick with the beer drips
sliding down my lips
moral confusion
not so easily cleared.
O, the irony as we play Civil War
which is how I describe
our elegant situation.
You fool me so easily.
I want to believe in
your trust...
but knowing its fed to others like
so many of your lies...
no more.

The End

The birds are up and singing
in an air that feels light and free
my ankle is now stinging
I know you want to leave

I haven't closed my eyes
since I found the evidence
Is your sympathy a lie?
Can I leave this, my new nest?

I should have known I'm just too young
too soft, and unawares
But out this window my heart is flung
I don't know anyone who cares.

An orange frigid sky is there
made bleaker by the empty lots
I feel ill, eyes are swollen, hair
is falling on my shoulder in knots.

It's time for "baby please"
that speech I know so well
it doesn't fall off my tongue with ease
Now i'm too afraid to tell.

On Risman Plaza Kent State

I want to dance on the Risman Plaza
with strains of "Fake Plastic Trees" in my ears
and the fountain running behind me.
Dwarfed by the buildings that impose and remind me that this is my home.
The gentle breeze and pink setting sun cast no shadows on me.
The campus is illuminated, each lamp a tiny moon...
or spotlight casting its rays over me on this stage.
"It wears me out."
The flags blow gently by
and the cold spray of a sideways rain touches my arms gently...
and I am over powered by memory.

A Harsher Critisim

It doesn't do to be simple
simple minded, simple sighted.
My words are enlongated and
florescent like the lights that show
every flaw on a face that's pancaked pathetic
in makeup.
it's a harsh truth in reality, to see what
words uncover.
And so I respond with harsher critism,
because it's written to be "constructive"
coming from someone I don't inspire anymore,
at least I still write.
And am forever perfecting my craft.
Forever.

The Sweetest Thing

There's a lingering smell on my hands
chocolate butter mixed
with the kind of soap that brings
you back to preschool.

You,
fresh out of the shower after we made love.
pale body, the kind that echos a bootcamp some years ago.
dark arms covered in colored stories,
some i still don't know.

and i'm lapping up the sight of you
giggle mad as you get dressed
reveling in the lucious smell of your body wash.
a playful kiss when you get your shoes
turns deeper the moment my fingers
transend friendly and run tracks
through dirty blonde dull spikes.

and i want to stay there
ten minutes longer and not have to leave
so my deep kisses become hunger
to both come and go, and stay.

urgency makes love as well.

If It Lands on the Pavement Is It A Slam Poem?

It's hectic, spastic,
and I'll trip the in the light. Fantastic.
Run into the wall, make a
CRASH and then
my thoughts would flow freely
from the GASH in my forehead.
Wanting CASH needing a CAST
moving too FAST can't seem to
let go of this PAST something I can't
PASS. GO COLLECT $200 or so.
And tell me this.
Can you stand the heat?
Handle the truth?
You can't handle the kitchen!
Get out of the truth!
I can try to wring more words
from a sex-addled brain but they're
WASTED, time isn't wasted
getting it, getting fit...
I'm getting shit.

Paranoid

I have dreams that shake the foundations of
the buildings that enjamb upon
this ground that I am walking on.
Quiet, reserved I could only make you
come by whispering my secrets in your
ear since you scratch yours out on my back
and what I hear could give me a heart attack.
Eponymous, anonymous...hypothosis?
I can't hear you and can only read you by
the ink that wears itself on your skin,
the stories you won't tell me.
Free verse; no charge for this next line,
Show me yours I'll show you mine.
Fingers grip the hips that rock the
cock that presses in my back now stop:
I can't take it anymore.
No one's voice tells me anything.
But not everyone reads body braile.

PQRST Wave

Heartbeat.
Lub-dub,
Love-rub.
Hug-bug,
Thud-thud.
And I
Can hear
Your heart.
Its beat.
So calm.
So cool.
So warm.
It blooms.
Flow-ers.
Em-brace.
So soft.
So high.
Up, down.
Tha-ump.
La-ump.
Ba-ump.
Stead-y.
Read-y.
Liv-ing.
A-live.

Jacob

Two months to the day
and you died instead.
I am moved to tears, which like a glacier, silent inching down my face.
Next to me, falling on my shoulders
his pain wracked sobs sinking under my skin, each tear a tiny petal.
Another boy who tried to die.
Two months to the day
and you died instead.
Stuttering candles remain lit around
the irregular geode that's your honorary tombstone.
Glowing now in a tranquil white.
Although to many a ghost,
you saved someone else's life in your tragedy.
Two months to the day
and you died instead.
My heart, though I never knew you
holds a steady metranome rhythm. Steadfast and solemn.
Because you kept another heart beating.

Two months to the day
and you died instead.
Amen.

"DEATH, BE NOT PROUD. THOUGH OTHERS HAVE CALLED THEE MIGHTY AND DREADFUL, THOU ART NOT SO."

Last Night

Spent the night
hiding under your apartment lights.
lying in your bed, the blue glow
of the TV making shadows on my head.
Your breathing calms me,
having been so firey
just a few hours ago.

From Your Lips I Draw The Hallelujiah

It's as easy as it's always been
to keep you wrapped around my little finger.
Needless to say, difficult.
You play a hard game, like an unpredictable hand of blackjack.
But I learned long ago how to count your cards.
It's a waiting game, for when you get anxious again.
Or, more likely, when you get that hunger only I've been able to satisfy.
What's funny is you no longer make me meek.
I'll blatantly give you the once over while your eyes dart over me.
Admit it.
Our little secret is the silent talk of the hall.
And nothing is more passionate then something forbidden.

the who or what

can't.
won't.
write about my sins here I
can't.
won't.
tell anyone what makes me sigh.

will.
not.
won't tell anyone that he
will.
not.
won't ever find out about me.

crazy world, crazy faces
in other times, other places
i don't see you standing there
when i run my fingers through his hair.

please.
forgive.
it's so terrible oh but God,
please.
forgive.
like many others I am flawed. but

kiss.
me.
i want to feel your lips on mine please
kiss.
me.
for God's sake stop the time.

crazy world, crazy faces
other times, other places
i don't see you standing there
when i run my fingers through his hair.

taking over for Doctor Manhattan

did you ever think of the effect we have on the people around us? that if they look at us for a moment we've become a part of their entire life, albiet a small and insignificant one. and the people you look at, you give them a glimpse into who you are, your life. they are as much a tiny part of it as a single star is to the universe but they're there none the less. every day were tangled in the lives of hundreds of people. they can pretend we're never there or make us the focus of their existance. but what happens when you no longer want to make an effect on anyone? does this body of ours simply stop, or by its biological functions keep living? are you able to consider yourself alive when your desire to interact with humanity disappears? every day we take for granted that we are alive, that out of microscopic organisms come our form, a million times larger with some of the most complex systems inside of our bodies, fully developed. Except that our brains can't even begin to comprehend that we're alive. that our bodies are in fact, as solid as it can be and that our footprints do indeed sink into mud.

we exist, we leave our footprints in the soil of the universe, and in all realitive time we fade. so what happens when you feel like your impact in another's life is irrelivant?
fade into obscurity.

attention

write me.
turn me into the story for an age
or for a night
call it a complex
but for once i want to see
my face in your camera lens,
my body in your bed
my song in your heart
myself painted by your words
the center of your universe
if only for tonight

make them dance with you

synestheic
pretty synestheic
doesn't need to move
to feel and connect.

Pillow Talking

Talk.
Pretty.
Dirty.
Talk pretty dirty.
Pretty talk.
Dirty talk.
Pretty dirty talk.
Dirty pretty talk.
Let me be your camera's model,
A body confident not to coddle.
Just tell me how, tell me what.
"Kiss me fool, I'm not a slut."
Need you now, need you there.
Fingers sliding.
Underwear.
Whisper.
Joke.
You whisper jokes.
I'm riding promises you never spoke.
Blow some steam, blow some smoke,
Let me touch you.
Let me soak.
A tisket, tasket. Make it
Fucking fantastic.
Make my body something spastic.

Would've touched your lips

Should you have asked me for a kiss
I'd have given you my fingertips.
To caress your readied lips.
And my knees to bruise your hips.
Ready up the whips.