this is love

if this ain’t love
what do you call this is
when you ain’t home
the sun boy wakes up late
the rain girl forgets
to water the plant
the bird neighbors quarrel all day
munching the seeds
meant for
the desert relatives

if i ain’t sad
what am i
time witch’s wrapped my arm
with a dull ribbon of age
crinkling my skin
brittling my bone
turning my blood
into phlegm
the moist of my silly heart is
gone and you

if this ain’t for you
who this is for
the strut of my heart
the rise of my soul
the bile of my feeling of lone
the glee
of my orbital home
this is love
this speck of
you and me

( WordPress seems to be meant for straight forward things. The intended form and body of this poem could be seen at or )



Sex is no good
They need submissions
How to propel love out of home
Shy drape, half drawn kiss
Wet corridors of innocent pales
They know.

Their trickery wounds
Wrecks soul, unheals tissue
Pins, pricks
Dread in polite eyes
That’s lust
For those morbid them
They moan.

I am a harmless man
Live in ‘sorry’, ‘thank you’
See them surrounding me
When lonely,
Distraught, plain wishful.