why is it? you.


a brick wall,

why is it that when I lean into you

like a brick wall you can support me

or cause my world to tumble down

brick by brick

like a brick wall


why is it that when I put my neck on your shoulder

it’s warm and comforting

even though


it shouldn’t be

on a hot day.

why is it that on a hot day when it is dry and breathing is a chore

you make me so happy to just be there

to just enjoy



things are

and you’re there

why is it that when I see you

I know you’re there


even you don’t really know if that’s true


why is it that when you smile

even when i scowl back at you

you still manage to make me happy

a tandem bicycle hits the ground twice as hard

A heart

Is a pendulum

Passing time.

I’ll be fine.

My eyes tear bloody holes:

Holes in her face.

Holes in her heart.

Holes in all the wrong places.

For no fucking reason they do,

For no fucking reason do the superman-style lasers of


Drip from these unfeeling sockets and soil the layered newspapers that line my skull.

And for someone that thinks they know everything

The frown on her face is a hole in my universe.

And for someone who wants her to be everything

When she is not

It tears down the walls.

These paper mache walls,

Like a pre-kindergarten volcano,

Stolen from the porch before the vinegar could ever hit the baking soda.

Who would take a volcano?

She took the volcano.

And I don’t know how or why, or what I could do about it, even if I knew


Or Why?

But I do know that, 

For some reason,

I and She exist somehow in tandem,

Somehow in unison;

Like a two person bike,

I am falling fast towards the ground

Hoping that somehow by sheer force of will

I can overcome gravity for the two of us.

And I could right this bike.

Even as the rubber runs away from me,

As the sound shoots through my ears:

That great pendulum’s brawny swing stops the movement,

Stops the fall of our bike,

Stops the air that supports us.

And it leaves my heaving chest

Pounding in her dry cold breath

As the only thing that supports this bike

Stopped in space and time.

Photo via Amazon.com

The Last Petal

She loves me.

She loves me not.

Pulling the petals of a flower,

looking for an answer.

As if killing something beautiful is going to find the solution to my problem.

She loves.

She loves me not.

I keep pulling petals out one after one, but still nothing.

She loves me.

She loves me not.

The flowers life remains in my hands,

shards of its life scattered around me

Only to be blown away by the next breeze.

She loves me.

She loves me not.

Only 4 petals left,

But still the pile grows around me,

With the next wind

My answer will come.

She loves me.

She loves me not.

Only the last two, but I see how the story is going to end.

Do I pull them and reassure what I already believe, or do I leave the last two?

Hoping that maybe it will generate new petals to change my outcome.

I drop the flower and walk away.

Still wondering about her through the day.

I return the next morning at dawn,

Only to find my flower gone.

I spend the day wandering the streets.

Alone and confused,

I still look for the answer.

In a nearby meadow I see a field of flowers.

I rush over and I am engulfed, but no amount of picking is going to change the out come.

She loves me.

She loves me____


I stared at you into your deep blue eyes
My Mr. moon who will you smile at, tonight
I remembered you have been mine once
Which made me smirk like a blest bride
But after the eclipse last night
You became the Mr. moon of another sky

I am coward of darkness now
After my heart shattered without your light
I know there are thousand stars like me out there
But you are the only sparkle in my sight