And so they fight,
the warm Rain and the cold North wind;
the Rain softer then lighter,
the North wind now as cold as the dark side
of Pluto.
The Rain will keep to the southside
permitting him to keep company
with his fear.

Poorly executed plan
has not changed who I am
as a person

I am still lonely
I am still a fighter
A thinker
A scarlet woman

I know more about my peers
I know more secrets
(most people already know mine)
than they do

I am not hiding
Not running
Never did
Like most of you ran

How have I changed
as a person?
Besides I know more about
the people around me?

I won't say I haven't
grown even stronger,
a little wiser,
more humbled,
more proud,
but have I undergone
a significant transformation?
Or am I fundamentally stable?
My foundations, my beliefs
My core values remain intact.
More often than not,
my perseverance has paid off,
my instincts have been correct,
my open heart has won
a few understanding souls
to sympathize
and even empathize
with me,
and I them.

To say you influence me
is a valid statement, yes,
but to say you shape me
is missing the mark, no?

We are who we are.

That we are able to view
our own faults at times
and gather necessary courage
to make positive scary changes
does not change that the person
we are within is the ultimate factor
in whether we choose to see
or to ignore,
and then whether we choose to change
or to stagnate.

The internal engines were built
long ago in the womb.
And not by anyone on this planet.
Anyone who claims to have shaped me,
to have shaped you,
is feeding you a lie as old, as told,
as no one can hold but the anti-truth.

If you are of an easily persuased mind,
then you can be led--
already shaped.

I am here because I still want to be here.

Drinking in,

the river of your mouth

flows through me

a loving god

who grows tired

for wailing on me,

misses the way I used to look

at him, full of adoration.

Kiss me again

like you did before,

strong hand to my nape,

eyes creating their own river

where spirited sea creatures

swim back and forth

carrying secrets and wishes.

Let me rain soft kisses

upon your throat and chest,

teasing with warm breath,

inciting you to rise up

and lift me off my feet.

Bored with everyone fake

Need real people, flesh, warmth

I fell into the game,

love to play,

but I want the real deal

not a role.

I am a soul.


I thought to fly north.

He just wants his head rubbed.


I thought to tour a skyscraper.

The facade seemed too new.

I was afraid to enter.


The man in the park has a dark side.

The good side is goddamned sexy, though.

And he was not afraid to kiss me.


Everyone else is married.

(Wry smile)

I guess all of this was good enough for you.

Reckon it can be good enough for me.

Unsure where to go from here,

since there are no publishers,

not for me,

no love,

no, none of that for me either,

a couple of friends.

That's cool.

I will still write with them.

So one of you is a chick.

Still bored.

Bored.

Yes, I can be a songwriter, too. Ha!

So now what?

A thousand of you, one of me.

You are each cool in your own way.

Now, about the song...

If any musicians would like to use it,

you have to pay me.

The autumn breeze will carry red leaves
away from you,

and none can contain the wind,
especially not the leaves.

Trees will hold onto yellow and orange
until bare,

But the red will be the first to leave.

crazy to think you were any
different
than any other man
to want it how you want it
but not like we both want it
not like i don't have time
for you
to act like a pouty child
to make me feel guilty
because i am withholding myself
not loving you too much
like you asked
not smothering you
like you asked
being honest with you
like you liked
and now i am hurting you
by giving you what you want
so go find someone else
so will i

my kind of loving you is come close
but make sure you stay far
enough away to let me breathe

i can't breathe when you are suffocating me,
copying me, asking me to make your decisions.

you leave as much emotional garbage with me as you can.
i need you to stop it, stop throwing your garbage at me
so i can love you better than anyone has loved you.

stop attributing other people's pasts to my future.

possessed by the demon tequila
sometimes a healer...
tonight, making me crazy,
lust crazy, tongue and word crazy.

i need you,
and i have ignored you because
i know that how much i want you
scares the holy shit out of you.

and so you run
naked, hiding in the shadows
making me chase you,
the man afraid

come out.
the worst i can do is love you too much.

the man in the park thought i wanted
was hungry for him
to eat me like a piece of strawberry pie
covered with whipped cream
but i wanted something else
more tangible, more
maybe not from him
maybe not from you
and i will know it when i know it
at least that is what you tell me
that you don't want to listen to
your own words

You say it's not about 'that,'
but it seems 'that' is all you can think about;
I'm the one who makes you think about 'that.'

'that,' like anything else all the time,
(except for blogging)
is boring.

talk to me about people like
the man in the park,
about why he could not find within himself
what I found in me.
that is why he is still out there, you know.
i wonder if he is okay,
but i am not talking to him anymore.
he put his hand on my neck,
and i did not want to break his
uninsured ribs that were wide open
and his pale throat that i did
think twice about driving the outer
edge of my hand into like i did the
pine blocks.
i walked away instead.
wish he would not have done that.

i want to understand Einstein's theory
of relativity.
my mind is bending, pulling...
toward the light...

or is the light bending...

show me how to make a balloon animal.
better yet, teach me how to make
a tequila sunrise,
and then show me how to make that balloon dog, lol!
i might not remember how to make it, but i will remember laughing like hell with you.

when you hold me, there is nothing better,
but life is more than being held.
life is living.

broken hearts scatter like pink and red rose petals,
softly falling from the plump dimpled hand of a flower girl
who cares not that they fall, only that they are pretty
when they fall
and that everyone looks at her, so pretty.

broken hearts lie waiting for the breeze
to lift them
to carry them up and away from the dirty, lonely floor;
but curious, admiring eyes simply stare,
breathe and whisper their compliments,
and then turn away

forgotten hearts cry silently,
screams all gone;
decide to wither, or resiliently absorb the moisture of their tears,
still waiting for that hopeful gust to swoop down,
pick them up and hold them,
if only for a short distance;
long enough for them to feel themselves alive again,
floating, dancing on air,
just once more

What is good for the gander
is better for the goose,
especially when the wild creature
is suddenly loose.
So fly through open windows
and secret doors.
In open fields and riverbanks,
will reside her paramours.
You can watch
with everyone else,
uncommitted,
thinking of only yourself.

A pound of flesh.
One for each year we have loved.
One for each year since my betrayal broke you.
One for each year that you could never give me safe harbor.
One pound of healthy, love-starved flesh.
And then some.

Trying like hell to hate you.
Replayed wordimages hit with dull thuds.
Conversations.
Push rewind.
Hear the sincerity I felt.

Your eyes.
Recognition.
Fear of opening not just your pride,
Your need to feel love with certainty.
Without ties.
Without the pain.

A pound of flesh and a few more for good measure.

Trying to hate you.

Reading the words.
Watching your lips.
Only your eyes ever spoke to me.

I missed your fear.
I overlooked your fear.
Fear of consequences.
Ignored your guilt. Knew it...

Goddamn! How can I hate you-- I wish I knew!
How can I ever trust you?

Answer, can you answer this?
Have I ever, in 38 years, have I ever,
has there ever,
have I ever had someone,
has there ever been someone,
anyone,
One person on this planet who I can trust to never hurt me?

Yes.

I gave them life.

And this one person I have never had,
They know. They have her.
She is me.

I have never had it.
But I can give it.
Who else do you know like that?


Always second, third, or someone else further down the line.
I have never been anyone's number one.

Do you still wonder why I fight so hard for myself?


Did not expect you to drop everything just for me.
Who would?
Why would anyone start now?


Never expected to defend myself from you.


A pound of flesh for your agony,
for your anguish,
Became my nightmare.
You took revenge on me,
all the while comforting,
wrapping me in warmth,
All the while driving a cold stake through each unmarred area of bone
That you could find.
And then you told me that you love me.

You love me.


I wish I could hate you.
I wish I wanted to take revenge on you.
I wish I did not still want you.
That I did not love you.

If you do not claim me now, I will make you miserable without meaning to.
My living will be your misery.
Having the most fun I've had in ages.
Making the most of what remains my youth.
My sexuality.
All the love and care I have to give.
All the laughter I still have left.

I will not wait for you.
Not after this.

Montana knew Delaware and Spain,

but not Oregon and Florida.

Florida knew Kansas who knew Delaware

but not Oregon, Montana, or Spain.

Wales knew Austria and Delaware,

mistook Florida for Mississippi.

Argentina had met Taiwan but forgot

until 6 months later.

Ukraine knew Florida, heard of Montana,

and wanted to meet Georgia.

Georgia knew Hawaii but thought Idaho

was Minnesota and made friends with NY,

pissed off Indiana, tried to fuck Louisiana,

and made out with Kentucky.

Spain seduced Mexico and played Canada,

who had been sleeping with Wisconsin since

they were so close.

Stuck in the middle, Norway tried to recover

a fumble from Samoa but ended up running over

Puerto Rico.

Then they all began running into each other trying to

save their mASSachusEttS.

Pictures keep falling off the walls.

Every time I hang one up,

another falls.

I try to keep them from falling,

but I am not doing it right.

I am all alone, and no one can help me.

The holes in the walls...

I do not wish to see them.

Only your sweet, smiling faces.

Not one set of twins, but two.

You knew not who he knew.

He never in a million would have guessed.

I tried to ignore this. And then that.

And then that that thing.

They only thought they knew,

learned more,

still thought they knew,

learned more,

and realized--

--maybe there are some things

we don't know.

And a few know,

but most only suspect.

I,

omg,

I am trying to ignore

this new thing

that continues to try

to make up, to back track,

to not be too late,

but I already know.

And I do not know what to do.

But I want to cry

some more.

From Another World:

B, disturbed,
K, arrogant,
K, misled,
S, shit,

Not that important.