If it is for her
Then I’ll kill my blame
All men aren’t the same
Her appearance speaks pain
But revenge is vain
Emotion stolen
Gate broken
Oh sweet tongue of mendacity

God punish love
The rat eating your heel and fanning you
I rather be
The Mississippi of tears for your sake
her hate hovers like tsunami
Can I still love?
She laments

Tie yourself up in knots again, then
crouch behind some cowards stone;
shivering.

He is;
fear turn despair turn apathy
turn beautiful nonchalance.

Pharmaceutical induced daydreams
of soft rain in France.
Windowside, in bed.
Biscuits and hot tea.

And white-coats speak bluntly,
"you can't outrun a shade of grey."
But I can't see the sparkle in $100 bills
I think that's a factor too.

In quaratntine.

There was a hundred acres
Covered impressively , humbly
In baby green grass. Perfect in height,
Perfect in toe wiggly softness.
Sprinkled in baby blues, buttered yellows,
Sweetened orange and oh so vivid violet.

There was a hill in the center of a hundred acres.
And the stone found there read:
"She loved her children till it hurt."
It hurt for a life time and nary a twinge
Would she alter.

The perpetual universe theory

My world expands into a thousand billion soft strands
Of light and gold and the hold
Of a simple hand will make my heart
Patter,
Like butter, moulded
Me anew into something sweeter, and easier to behold..
You.

When you’re done, the universe, in reverse,
Does it physics, in verse, and engineers feats
Of emotional recoiling, and ensures a dampened heart..
And a dry thirsting spirit, toiling , awaiting that moist sweet rain,
That which became so familiar in..
You.

I can hear them, the voices, the shouts,
the cries of hurt and solidarity.
Me too, moi aussi, anch’io
no boundaries.

I could add my voice.
I remember the chaffing of the rope,
the cut of serrated steel,
the boot shaped bruises.
The entering of my person was in fact the least of the violations.
He still did not possess me.

How frequently we pivot in life when we fall in love with something.
Having been given heart, mind and free will.
We are still programed to pursue it.

If it hurts, forgive till your heart begins to harden.
Hold on tightly until your hands are sore, torn and callused,
falling away,withered like dried dandelion.

When you keep your eyes averted from the truth you witness;he never loved you.
Let go of your aching mind, let fall away any why's, any questions of doubts of what you may believe you did or didn't do.

Clock's alarm blares me awake.
Another planned day has begun,
with little done for pleasure's sake
each hour scheduled sun to sun.

And I drift through it like a ghost,
this day just like the one before,
not one event of which to boast.
No surprises any more.

Until week's end brings Saturday
and I wake up with a smiling face
well before the break of day
thinking about another place.

It looks like October in Cleveland again,
with the contrast of the deep grey sky
and the way the sun breaks through it in the west
in what's come to be known as late evening,
around here.

And I don't know what this autumn
brings.
I'm not as romantic about things these days
and I, I'm not sure who is to blame.
So I'll fall back to my old standby
and blame myself
for being in this beautiful mess
with no concept of how to appreciate it
and give woe to the sins of cynicism.