Faithless

I could not be a trusting Sampson.
I knew you to well, Delilah.
I graced you with myself,
I fought your battles,
I surrendered to your whims.
But one night as I lay
Upon our shared bed
I found the Golden Shears
Beneath your pillow.
And when you tumbled
Into my waiting arms
I buried your Golden Shears
In your flawless breast.

I Hate You

I love the way you drink your coffee
I love the way you tie your shoes
I love the way you still ignore me
When I’m trying to kiss you.

I love the way that you laugh at me
I love the way you don’t deny
I love the way that you say “Trust me”
I even love the way you lie.

I love the way you trash my things
I love the way that you say “Just friends”
I love the way you hate it when I sing
I love your face when you see him.

I love the way you make excuses
I love every pen tattoo
I love all of your abuses
I love the way that I can’t hate you,
No matter how I try.

Creshendo

I can't live like this anymore.
We are fighting again
Screaming in the hall
While our friends look on
In mounting alarm
And at the door I stop
One last chance to
Make it right
No matter who's wrong
And you say
"If you love me you will."
But the problem with that is that
I don't love you.
Not anymore.

Southern Cities

We are a City, not a Town.
Because a Town is
camaraderie barbecue a white sheet
Smaller than we are.

We are a sprawling pseudo-metropolis.
Our City is
tradition isolation a thrown rock
Filled with People.

We are tens of thousands among billions.
The People are
masked enraged filled with rot and maggots
Polite and Hospitable.

The Postcards

Wishing you were here.

she still sends postcards
a procession of colors
and places i will never see
from a lover long gone.

Wishing I was there.

Chinese Class

She is laughing,
Her eyes disappearing into her face
Like animals into their burrows.

It is funny to her,
That I am flawed: That I can understand
But not comprehend.

I speak to her with my
Flat Southern Drawl (Immediately Stereotyped- A cartoon of myself)
And wrestle with sounds like ‘tshahi’.

The trouble is that I
Always understand what she says, and without me
No one else would.

I. Am. Out. Of. COFFEE!

Oh, coffee, oh coffee,
Why hast thou forsaken me?
How gloomily I look upon
My empty mug.