Dropping

Your eyes always forming tears
Never dropping
Naturally sometimes we should
Let them pour like blood in veins
Let mine pour into yours
Let us cultivate together.
 

Your Hand

I wish you wouldn't hold my hand
Never wanted to make such demands.
I always dreamed of another
But there you were again
holding on.
I will always let you hold on.
 

Societal Expectations

Yes you should let your head hang down
And tears not expected of such a man
Who pumps grain and sand into his self
Because he must survive.
I can't even address you this way,
Or ask about the future.
What is my fear?
I am going to always be here.
 

Imperative

Don't be the girl
Making me your experiment.
Don't let me fall victim
To your soul searching
Nail scratching
Blood pouring
Lust driven
Rain,
Where books drop words
And then we are mended.
 

Observer

And so I have become
a journalistic observer,
forming opinions
asking what ifs,
ne'er being involved
with anyone but
my heart.
 

Evil Valentine's Day

It's time for me to break your cliche
And your corny jokes
So sweet to tempt me;
I never liked apples.
Time for parties unattended
And hardcore realistic pornographic poetry
Photographic notions that I'm afraid to reveal
In your private sympathy
To boot.
And in pathetic whispers of skirts and laundry
of the like,
I wish you'd ask something,
If no more than my desire.
 
 

Drifting

I want to drift with you
Who can finally have control
Of something silent
Penetrated and permanent
In life.
What I want and what is
Are so rarely the same,
But I feel the same.
 

Lorca's Lament

Within the dramatic sigh of a poet
writer, hindered from his act,
A lamentation rains.
A lamentation reigns,
And all control is lost.
Beneath me I relate, human
Humanely
Why must we leave?
Wind answers hotly.