1.
I've always been
ashamed to admit
my conquests.
Too many
opportunities of
bragging and
embarrassing
myself.
Never can I spend
any effort opening
myself to ridicule
of jealous people.
It's a wonder how
others can do it.
2.
Maybe there's a
worse situation-
But nothing can beat a
lighter refusing to
light.
Although not a chain-
smoker, I'm very annoyed.
The little pink friend
isn't holding up her
end of the bargain.
Let me try again-
again nothing.
Cooperation is dead.
One o'nine in the
morning, and not a
good sign for this
eighteen year old's
enjoyment of English
cigarettes.
Let me try again-
again nothing.
3.
Frequent are
these spells.
Dryness at its
highest degree.
Drier than my
mouth, after a loss
of moisture. No
thoughts and no
imagination -
Nothing arrives
from vacation.
An endless drifter
and meddler, It is.
I don't have
anything to inspire
such brilliant
thoughts.
At least, nothing
now to ignite and
fire me up.
Maybe time has
come for KISSING
OFF that outlet of
creativity, and
welcoming another.
(Hope not.)
It's rather odd how
I could spend a
small portion
complaining about
something that just
brought a sudden
cloudburst.
4.
I've been thinking
of you lately.
Too much, I'm sure.
Honey, I miss you - as
much as is possible -
although, I truly don't
want to admit it.
I haven't called in
some time, since I'm
filled with fear.
Do you have another?
I dread the possibility
of its existence.
I don't know if I love
you. Confusion has
thrown me two
sticks, but nowhere to
spark them.
Or, at least, an
enclosed place.
While you go on with
your life, I can't seem
to forget.
Maybe in your darkest
depths my memory is
there.
It'll always be.
Our paths will
eventually cross again
to end an unfinished
circle. We're only 180
degrees, not 360.
Now, if only we
could.
5.
In the early, early
morning I still
slept.
My back exposed
when you uncovered
us.
Gently you tingled
my spine, when you
rubbed a finger
along it.
Up, I shot, and
turned to you.
Lying there,
drowsiness and lust
came over us.
Sleepily, you
wrapped an arm
around while I edged
closer.
A hand felt my
nearer thigh.....
Seconds to minutes
passed -
build-up to
culmination.
Quite awakened, but
satisfied, I leaned
my head upon you
and looked at your
face. Your face
seemed to tell me
that you weren't.
I soon gave in to
your true
intentions.
6.
I think.
Maybe gone forever&
never of use again.
Hopelessly adrift
in a deep sleep.
Unless it comes back.
There's two paths comas
take: death or life -
which will it be?
I won't know until the
time comes - I'd better
wait it out.
Thinking is no help.
Things will pass at
their own will, but
it's up to me to catch
the good ones.
[I've been catching only flies.]
Muse of Inspiration,
are you there?
Dull and unclever thoughts
I have.
I want to be pregnant with
worthwhile ideas.
Or, at least, oil my mind's
wheel....Please, that's all
I ask for.
7.
My eyes look really bloodshot and I'm barely able
to lift my head from this pillow. The phone is
unhooked from an hour ago. Tissue paper scattered-
the ones that didn't make their target. Your call
hadn't started how it ended. Sweetly, you asked me
to marry you&have your babies&etc. I needed more
time which offended you. You claimed I didn't love
you. That I should of made up my mind already and
all these crazy ideas.
Now, I do agree. But, it's too late.
8.
By that house, lies a river.
One day, I sat down by that river.
I let my fingers draw ripples.
Back and forth they went.
Look. I've disappeared.
Look. I've re-appeared.
All by slight movement of my
hand.
I took my hand out.
Letting my face touch the water,
I bent over and looked in.
The reflections was of my face
and my shoulders.
My hair wasn't positioned the
usual way, but having gravity
pull it to the water.
It was cold and shallow under
the surface, and the taste of it
was clean.
When I took my face out, I heard
my name called.
I got up and left my little place.
9.
Gazing down at your lying under me.
Eyes barely opening and teeth
clenching.
Hands grasping shoulders or
waists.
Your head was tilting back.
I closed my eyes again.
Your breathing caused my eyes to re-open.
The forming of the lips was
arousing me further.
Sweating beads on the forehead.
Quickly shoving a finger in your mouth,
you responded rather well.
10.
Her lips quivered as she
witnessed all the things he did.
She couldn't believe what
happened.
His dark, glossy eyeballs held
her, while he continued doing
what he had to do.
Her left hand held the right
behind her.
At their positions, they were
completely attentive, But
unaware of the real going-on's.
What was being formulated in
his head was a curiousity of
her's.
Too bad that she never found out.
11.
The whispery voices filled the room.
Eyes and fingers pointed to the middle.
"How could you?" screamed a shrill voice.
Crying and rushing by, she passed me in the doorway.
The man remained standing with an awkward, saddened face.
I went over to him to know what that was about.
At first, he seemed shocked and reluctant.
He sat with arms crossed throwing a few words my way.
Being no help, I looked to the door, to see if she had returned.
He, then, turned to me, and uncrossed his arms.
Leaning over, he confessed all that had happened that night.
His head fell into my lap, blubbering about this and that.
I looked to the door, and saw she had returned.
Her eyes reddened, but concern overwhelmed her.
Over she went to us and reached for his hand.
He raised his head and gave a weakened smile to her.
I sat in the middle, as they tried to hug.
Struggling to escape, I heard the whispers again.
(Laughter was among them.)
Filled with relief, they joined among the other voices.
I managed to escape my position and was able to leave -
for that small scene was enough torture for one night.
12.
They sat on the couch.
Rose-colored lips moved onto his face.
A hand caressed her hair.
Her left hand almost brushed against my forehead,
for I was hiding and wanting to not be caught.
Their mouths looked somewhat connected,
and I sat on in misery.
My friend wasn't arriving.
I looked Over to the door.
Over to the other way.
I took a look Over the couch.
He wasn't anywhere.
They were still at it, and I decided they should stop.
Lightly, I tapped her hand.
It took her a while to notice, but she saw me.
Her boyfriend looked at me, then I realised something.
HE WAS THE ONE I WAS WAITING FOR.
13.
Deaden this pain in my mouth.
Please, make it stop.
Take it out.
It's right there.
Along the tongue's base, it is. It's hurting me.
Sitting where you could witness everything, on your throne.
I'm kneeling before you, as you offer the fruits to me.
I'm choking on them.
It's an awful mess.
I'm sorry you convinced me that it would be quite good.
I should bite your fingers off for all that happened.
See what happened out of what could of.
Odd at all the possibilities to have this result.
Choking, instead of enjoying.
No next time sorry.
14.
I only want you to notice me.
Poised there with glances cast your direction.
Your presence is overwhelming - I can't feel comfortable around you.
My mouth refuses to talk.
It feels so dry and withery.
Stuttering doesn't help, either.
I can never tell you how much you mean not one little word.
You still stand there.
Next to me, but so far away.
Away in your thoughts.
Who knows what you're thinking?
Maybe I'm back there somewhere.
(I doubt it heavily.)
I'll never get my wish.
My charms work against me.
It's all very well.
At least, no one is stopping me from continuous wishing.
15.
Quite late at night, we met up. Eyes full of hope, yet voices filled with nervousness.
Smiles exchanged and received. Then, kisses became more frequent.
My tee-shirt the first to go. My shorts the last.
I was amazed by all that happened. The smells, the sounds, the everything.
Your eyes turned different colors. From brown to hazel to green to any combination of the three.
You've left my body marked --Yet, I have no complaints.
How can I when that was the only time? Actually, I have one.
It was too short.
16.
The tension almost broke him.
Their bodies near the other.
Heat and confusion surrounded.
His gaze did what his hands wanted, and his hands did nothing.
Fidgety, he became.
Unable to focus on anything, because she controlled it all.
She may not know this, but he wanted to rip her apart.
It's all her fault that he's the way he is.
Drizzle temporarily cooled his nerves.
He thought it would wash away everything.
It did nothing to ruin his feelings.
He still waits there, after she left long ago.
17.
She hugged her pillow last night.
It was an unfair substitute.
Nothing could replace him.
He has exposed himself to her--
Now there couldn't be another.
Sleep was a foreigner to her.
Deep down something bugged her.
He could of had fantastic dreams,
while she starved herself of such pleasures.
The only presence she felt was loneliness.
Her eyes glazed and devoid of exhaustion, only stared at the walls.
Her blanket covered
her, but what use was it?
It was neither cold, nor hot.
All she could do was wait until
time became nice, and let her
start dreaming.
18.
I lied on my back
upon a marble table.
My lighter near the box.
Some chair supported my
ankles.
Little silvery rings of
Smoke were blown about.
[Inhaled, then exhaled.]
Funny cloudy donuts that
disappeared after
seconds.
A friend sat nearby
reading a magazine.
She didn't mind that I
was slowly poisoning
myself.
It's shameful to think it
better to finish the whole
box, rather than waste.
But, what do I know?
19.
I don't know what woke me up.
It was around 3 am.
I heard gentle snoring by my side.
It was rather funny,
but it made me lose interest in sleep.
I got up, and opened the blinds.
The light cast a glow on you.
An unhealthy greenish glow.
I could barely see you.
A strange sort of look
-- Strained, yet calm enough.
Eyes shut all the way.
After staring at you for a while,
suddenly you started, then awoke.
I was slightly ashamed by looking
at you that way.
You did nothing, but ask,
"Why are you there? Come back to bed."
I had no choice, but to oblige.
20.
She rests her head on her hand.
Her view is outside the third-story apartment window.
Sitting like a mute invalid.
Hair parts smoothly in the middle of a still head.
Heavy sighs fill the sparse room.
There is nothing to do, and no one to wait for.
So, what is she looking for?
She lives alone -- all her forty-five years --
For she never had married, or given birth,
and her friends had all moved away.
She is looking for re-assurance.
The only thing she could
manage to have from her
sad and lonely existence.
21.
He put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me.
I could feel the heat enter.
His nails felt rather sharp
when he dug in to acknowledge himself.
I swung around to look at him.
His eyes were filled hunger and anxiousness
I unattached his hand.
His hand joined the other, and attached themselves to my scalp.
I soon found myself involved with a kiss.
His grasp was tight against my nape.
I didn't want this.
He almost consumed me whole--
Yet, I broke away somehow.
22.
I hear his voice, but can't hear the words.
His intonation is fascinating the hell out of me.
He has no obvious accent, though.
I like it when he starts quiet, then becomes louder.
Or, when his voice raises pitch on vowels.
Or, even when he enunciates the wrong syllable.
There's a certain beauty in his face when he talks.
His eyebrows bob up and down.
His nose wiggles around.
All play center stage to his mouth.
It's hard trying to talk to him.
I get so lost sometimes.
He knows I can hear him
--Only that he isn't aware--
my attention isn't on what
he's saying,
but how.
23.
She pointed her head downwards.
As she looked out her window.
I saw from the street.
She didn't see me,but past in the same direction.
It looked like she was conversing with herself,
but I'm sure there was someone present with her.
I stood there looking up at her,
because there was a certain something about her.
She looked rather familiar,but I swear I don't know her name
--Maybe, it could be that she looked a lot like
puzzle pieces of people I knew.
Her blue eyes looked glazed with an iciness over them.
It looked like she was angry,
and about to smash the window she was leaning on.
I could only envision her breaking something with those dainty hands.
24.
The bath was half filled with tepid water.
You came in as a surprise.
I dropped my book in it.
You offered to help.
Leaned so near,
that I felt your breath.
A gentle hand touched my scalp,
then my neck.
I bent my head
down to look for
my book.
Your hand stayed
on my neck, but
suddenly grasped it.
I could feel it
almost snap.
Down--under
the water--I
remained.
You promised
to help me,
but you lied.
My book is still there.
25.
I stare at my finger constantly.
It's like something is missing.
I don't have a ring there.
Someone said I should.
I don't believe it's necessary, but it's bugging me.
Is it a matter of belonging or of trust?
Empty space is all I see.
Actually, does a ring signal involvement or imprisonment?
A wedding ring is one thing, but otherwise
--I don't know.
Two different situations call for different solutions.
I guess
--unless I marry you--
you have a choice to give me one or not.
Oh, but, you don't have to....
26.
"He thinks he can charm anyone in sight," I heard someone say.
I figured it's worth it to see if this claim is foolproof.
I looked about the room to find him.
He stood in one corner mesmerizing a young girl.
Well, she did look as if under his spell.
I went over to him in an effort to prove wrong.
He was quite a cocky bastard-believing any woman could be his if he wanted her.
He thought me pretty-I thought him handsome.
He tried pulling some moves on me
I tried nothing.
I didn't have to try anything.
He was definitely a loser.
27.
I'm here--lying on my past.
This room with the rug and walls.
Once a part of me, like everything else that was.
Here was a section where I burnt a tissue.
There the walls visibly own remnants of the shelves that were on them.
All the marks, cracks, and flaws that were once mine.
My bed used to be on that side.
That desk had another piece.
I can't remember what else I had.
[A lamp, a drawer, and other things--I think.]
I don't sleep here anymore.
Certain memories tie me in still.
I partially grew up in this room, or (at least) started to.
There's still things that lead me here, and make me stay for awhile.
Things that have nothing to do with "there".
28.
There's barely any light--Yet, I'm not completely blinded.
Someone's voice speaks from somewhere.
The words make partial sense.
Outlines are moving around.
I can't see anything clearly.
It's all dark and fuzzy.
I'm too far from the window to open the blinds.
Really--I don't know where I am.
If I reach into the air, could I touch someone or something?
I'm sure if I lean back, I could either
fall over or be propped up.
You touch my shoulder,
and make me turn aside.
My eyes aren't focusing,
but I could tell it was you.
I'm accustomed to feeling
your touch without any
light.
29.
My hands are
overloaded from all the
work they've done.
It's from all this strain of
raising a child alone.
That night was heaven,
but this is my reward.
When the time came for
him to prove his worth,
he left.
I swore--at the time--
he loved me, but it turned
out different.
He wasn't half the man
that I thought he was.
He's not entirely to blame
for--after all, it takes
two people to make
something as precious as
another person.
I'm ashamed to admit,
but I'm also at fault.
I play it over and over
again, and it just doesn't
seem to make sense.
If I got an another
chance, then I would
have used some sort of
birth control--or, even waited.
30.
At his window, he thinks I can't see him there--standing, or sitting.
It's partially open--as if, he has to hide.
I don't care, if I'm being watched.
I have nothing to hide.
Whatever urges him to be present there constantly.
He sees me amuse myself.
He sees me talk on the phone.
He sees me sit here.
He sees everything I do.
What pleasure does he get from knowing what I do?
I've never done anything sexual in front of him, so I don't understand.
Curiosity is a strange thing.
Very strange thing, indeed.
Again, I look his direction and see a cracked-open window.
I can tell someone is there.
It doesn't bother me, though
--Although, I can't see the point in hiding when I know he's there.
31.
I don't know how you do it.
Time after time,
I always feel bad from talking to you by whatever you say,
or however your tone takes.
It makes me so mad to know you have this power over me.
Do you do it on purpose or are you unaware of the message I'm getting?
I know you know how I am.
When my insecurities are put to the test,
it doesn't take much to prove the root cause.
32.
I turn off all my lights and wish I'd sleep.
There's no purpose to being awake,
when you are lying down by yourself.
It always takes too long.
That's why I like listening to you sing.
It's soothing and calm.
You help me fall asleep.
You and them, alone with the night and I.
I stare at the space above, while I take in
all that passes from your mouth into my ears.
I know how little babies feel when I'm being sung to.
Although, I'm not being cuddled and held,
I'm still gently sent to sleep.
33.
All around me nothing moves.
I sit on this wooden floor.
One book sits open
obviously
--This one I've chosen.
I hate complete silence,
so I listen to my mind read everything it sees.
It still would be better if I heard someone else's rustling.
I can't hear anyone or anything.
Please, someone, do something.
I have only silent words to keep me company.
I don't like being alone.
34.
Temptation stared me in the face.
I was awake next to a sleeper.
I in a chair, he in the bed.
Finishing a letter, the offer seemed alluring.
How can you not resist touching someone
who isn't conscious enough to know what is going on?
It's best when you rub their nose, or an earlobe.
People sleeping only move about.
The worst to happen is for them to wake up and slap you.
Most times, they twitch and move their hand about.
I couldn't resist.
It just called me.
I touched his exposed shoulder with a couple of jabs.
He seemed to brush away invisible pests.
35
Yesterday, I went to your house.
No one answered the door.
You gave me keys, so I could just go in and wait for you.
I used them.
It felt weird--As if I was breaking in.
Upon entering I heard mumbling and strange
noises from upstairs.
I should of just waited, but I was curious.
I sneaked up the stairs to hear the noises become louder.
It was loudest when I stood in front of your door.
I looked
-- There was someone in your bed.
That person wasn't alone.
They were with one of our mutual friends.
It was sickening enough to know they were involved, but this was even sicker.
For a few seconds,
I found myself thinking why they should use your bed,
because they don't even live with you.
Then, I remembered all your close friends
have keys to your house.
36.
Running from the scene,
it became more of a blur as I got farther away.
I ran as fast as I could.
I don't ever want to feel that way again.
It had started with flowers and a mysterious letters.
Then, it wound up into this meeting.
I'm unsure how it went from the first to second.
He arrived on time, like he promised.
That was a good sign.
I wasn't quite expecting someone so tall.
That was a bad sign-Maybe.
He seemed a gentleman-Until he bent over for a kiss.
I thought it an inappropriate moment.
I nudged him away, but he held me tighter.
He scratched my neck with his right hand.
I could feel it sting my skin.
Then, he stifled my mouth with his left.
I couldn't even breath.
I was extremely frightened.
I knew that I never experienced that before.
I had to fight or flee.
He looked too big to fight, so I quickly pushed away.
Before he could grab me again,
I--I've never ran so fast from anything.
37.
I lie on the couch and tell you more and more about myself with each second that passes.
I don't see any point to paying someone,
so they'd listen to my problems.
When I consider how much time is spent,
I realise how much of a waste it is.
Don't get me wrong,
but are you actually listening to me,
or just hearing sounds and mouthing off what is actually on YOUR mind?
No, really, do you even consider all your opinions aren't going to help the pain to heal?
I don't think it's very healthy to have someone else sputter junk at me and try to say they're helping.
I know you think you are trying to help me by
analysing everything I say and offering bits of advice in return for telling you what ails me, but
--Guess what--
I'm a compulsive liar,
and need someone to lie to.
38.
I think my violin isn't tuned correctly.
It's not playing music as beautifully as usual.
I'm sure my talent isn't diminishing on me.
Maybe my hands are becoming marred with a mysterious, uncurable disease.
Maybe they are becoming less usable, because of other factors.
The bow hasn't lost any horsehairs,
and the body of my beloved instrument isn't cracked (or deformed) in any way.
Nothing is physically broken.
I can't see what the problem is.
Maybe I'm doing something wrong.
I don't understand why this instrument doesn't want to play anything in tune.
39.
The thing you
gave me now lies
in a wooden box.
It's dismembered
into several
pieces.
Still, that doesn't
symbolize how
much I love you.
I'm sorry, because
I was alone and
bored. It was
really late into the
night -- Rise, it's
arm had already
come apart from
the rest.
I wanted to see
what was in it.
If a torn-apart doll
indicates what I
feel, then it must
mean I don't care
about you
anymore.
I know that's
totally wrong. My
obvious feelings
prove it.
The doll may be
separated, but in
no way can you say
it's evidence of my
affection.
40.
Do you think if
one little worthless moment of our lives were changed,
would the whole rest of our lives be different?
"I don't know. I guess it depends on what exactly you mean by worthless- Probably, not too much."
If, say, I didn't have
this obsessive side to myself,
would everything else reflect it?
"Before you go any further -- Where ever did you come up with these questions -- I guess..."
I don't know --
But, wouldn't it be great if we all
had time machines and changed whatever we hated?
"That would be all right, but if we could change whatever we liked -- Um, well...."
Don't tell me that you don't like the idea,
because I know you more than anyone else
isn't satisfied?
"I know, but there's beauty in things that are out of our control Then again, I wouldn't mind if..."
41.
I've been thrown
into the awkwardest
of ail situations.
Never home I been
this confused about
anything.
Now, it's a small
test of strength.
It's strange how one
person could change
everything, including
someone else
It's rather unkind to
say he ruined my life
by making me this
confused.
I home to admit it's
not all I his fault --
after all, he's not
the only one involved.
The other "him"
doesn't have to know,
but, it's hard to not
tell.
I can't say it's
rearing me apart, but
it does leave its
mark
It leaves me wishing
it all away or
quickly resolved.
I wish I knew ...
42.
They stood in the
middle of the festivities.
I say him brush the hair out of her eyes
and lean down and kiss her cheek.
I felt warmly towards them.
Next to them, stood a
pair that seemed the
opposite way.
They seemed ready to
explode and argue.
She was eager to strike.
I fell strange towards them.
I was more amused with
the second couple.
It's always mesmerizing
to watch people who aren't filled with flowery, silly love
-- the kind where one goes, Oh, Snookums..."
I watched as this
incensed young couple
tried to remain calm, so
not to gather unwanted
attention.
It's very strange how
some can handle it so
relaxed.
It didn't take long before
the woman went off.
I looked back to the
other couple and still found them disgusting.
At least, I still have them.
43.
The rum swimmed in my head.
It makes me do insane things.
Once, it got me to table-dance
after I ripped
open my clothing
Another time I related
all the stories of everywhere
I've been shagged.
You sat next to me and
watched my movements.
I turned to you and reached for your hand.
You didn't quite expect a thumb-sucking session.
I saw your face turn really nervous.
I haw to admit that this
wasn't as crazy as some
of the others.
Although I can't
remember what happened
next, I found the bottle
smashed on the floor
with your clothes on top.
44.
It's come sooner than I
expected, but I'm going now.
I never knew this day would come so quickly.
I'm sorry, but there's an way around it
In the beginning,
I knew the signs were positive and showed the right direction.
Now, they just stand in my way and lead me nowhere.
I realise I've been led astray and stand rather lost.
I kept waking without a clue to where I was --
Now, it's like the clues woke me up
45.
His soft lips parted
Slowly, slowly - They did that.
But, he kissed no one.
46.
A ring of flowers
Lay on the desk all alone
with an unused look.
47.
I'm still trying
to figure out
a sign that
we were made
for each other.
From what I
know there could
be some that
should get me
so curious.
Even then, I
wait for something
so clear, that
it stings me
from such a
strong slap in
the face.
48.
"You were very
naughty last time I
saw you.
I say you deserve a
good spanking.
Or, a certain
something should be withheld."
I laugh at you as your
face gives me that look.
You know that look.
The one that springs up
whenever I upset you.
You must like the games
I play, because you
always come back for
more.
I'm sure you deserve
better, but for now, this
is what you get.
49.
Everytime I think of you, cigarettes come to mind.
It's rather simple
to explain my logic.
You always smell,
always taste,
always -- of (most likely) Marlboro Lite's.
There isn't one moment that passes where I don't see you have one.
You even have called yourself a "chimney".
Let's see....
cigarettes after breakfast,
cigarettes after sex,
cigarettes after
--Well, you get the point.
I know this sounds weird, but I don't mind, at all.
Just as long as there's cigarettes in your hands and you're happy,
then neither one of us has anything to complain about.
50.
I find it hard to say.
It's just three little words long,
or however long in any other
language.
Well, I find it hard to say.
It's supposed to have some
sort of meaning -- Not just,
"Oh, it just came out."
Well, I do find it hard to say.
It's sprung out of my lips a
few times, but I don't know
if I've said it clear enough.
Well, I do find it hard to say.
It's something people
should realise has more than
one interpretation.
I shouldn't find it hard to say.
I know I mean what I tell
and should just spit it out.
"Bonjour...Je t'aime."
51.
The moon bathed us in light.
We stood hand in hand on the shoreline.
I turned to you and found your mouth completely responsive.
It was so soft and gentle.
I soon found myself lying
down with your hands all over me.
They were as warm as your mouth.
Even then, I don't know how it got that way.
It just went from A to B.
Our bare feet were wet from the water,
while the rest got sandy.
My hair fell around your face
with various strands in and out
of your mouth.
We made love then and there.
It was the most incredible moment.
52.
I saw a fire burning from my window and the beach-goers around it.
It stood out among the sand and showered them with warmth.
They looked as if they were shivering.
A late night dip in the middle of the dark
resulting in wet clothes and trembling voices.
A typical late night excursion for a few people
--I think there are only seven--
I can't tell from here really,
since they are a bit away from my seat.
I feel like a peeper because I doubt they realise
that someone they don't know
has a view.
53.
What do you do
when you feel everyone
is annoying you?
Do you hide away in an
attic and become well-red & pasty?
Do you lock yourself in
your room and learn an instrument?
Do you go somewhere deserted?
Just what are your options
when there's no other way.
Should you avoid public
places like: groceries,
shopping centers
and the like?
Should you refrain from speaking to strangers who pass by?
Should you shun visitors?
A life spent mostly alone
doesn't sound bad, when
you think about it.
All those ideas sound
nice, but wouldn't you
prefer it if you got over this phase?
54.
I touched his neck.
The hairs and nape
called my name.
My fingers smoothly
stroked it.
He bent his head
forward reading his
book, while I sat next
to him.
Our cigarettes
burning to their roots in our hands.
My legs were crossed, .
and his up on the dashboard
I got strangely
aroused off it.
My body felt
needed, but I couldn't
do anything about it.
My warm hands
gently rubbed down it,
then up in direction.
Slowly, slowly they
went and moved over
it.
I prefer his hair
short, rather than all
the extra hair he told
me of.
I wouldn't miss a
moment so strangely
arousing and
tempting.
I would't miss it for
the world.
55.
A drowned beauty lay in the pond.
Hands tied and mouth gagged.
No visible signs of struggle
--looking like she done it herself.
She lay there unmoving and unable to hear anything.
No hints of life chose to be around her.
Only serene water and leaves are her company.
I saw her under the branches,
while playing hide and seek.
Her eyes were closed,
as if deeply asleep.
Her hair was in-between
blonde and brunette
--without a touch of mud--
but it was the muddiest part of the pond.
It's possible that she was
freshly strangled and
dumped here.
56.
We were saying our farewells
on the doorsteps.
It was almost midnight and
the moon was over our heads.
Before looking into my eyes,
your hand lingered on my
shoulder.
My hands rubbed your hair to
which you responded
affectionately and deliberately.
Then, came the kiss
It was done slowly that
every second could be
savoured, and You
whispered, "I love you,"
so seductively in my ear.
I went inside the house and
watched as you left down
the steps, from the window
After I saw you take one
final look, I closed the
window.
57.
He gave me a bracelet made of bronze and fake crystals.
I more it on my wrist, But lost it the next hour.
He gave me earrings made of copper and ruby.
I wore them on my ears, But lost then the next day.
He gave me a necklace made of silver and garnet.
I wore it on my neck, But lost it the next week.
He gave me a ring made of gold and diamond.
I wore it on my humbling finger, But lost it the next month.
He gave me his love made of his emotions.
I wore it on my heart, But lost it the next year.
58.
It's upsetting to hear an appliance is taller.
I can't help my height.
There's not a drug out there that could change genetics
--I know.
I blame my stature on the genes I've received.
My age points out that this is all I'm getting for now and forever.
Height is one of those uncontrollable forces
like earthquakes and hurricanes,
that obviously no person can regulate.
Some people don't think of me as small, but smaller.
Unfortunately, smaller isn't good enough for me to consider myself
a comfortable distance between the floor and ceiling.
I've always been
ashamed to admit
my conquests.
Too many
opportunities of
bragging and
embarrassing
myself.
Never can I spend
any effort opening
myself to ridicule
of jealous people.
It's a wonder how
others can do it.
2.
Maybe there's a
worse situation-
But nothing can beat a
lighter refusing to
light.
Although not a chain-
smoker, I'm very annoyed.
The little pink friend
isn't holding up her
end of the bargain.
Let me try again-
again nothing.
Cooperation is dead.
One o'nine in the
morning, and not a
good sign for this
eighteen year old's
enjoyment of English
cigarettes.
Let me try again-
again nothing.
3.
Frequent are
these spells.
Dryness at its
highest degree.
Drier than my
mouth, after a loss
of moisture. No
thoughts and no
imagination -
Nothing arrives
from vacation.
An endless drifter
and meddler, It is.
I don't have
anything to inspire
such brilliant
thoughts.
At least, nothing
now to ignite and
fire me up.
Maybe time has
come for KISSING
OFF that outlet of
creativity, and
welcoming another.
(Hope not.)
It's rather odd how
I could spend a
small portion
complaining about
something that just
brought a sudden
cloudburst.
4.
I've been thinking
of you lately.
Too much, I'm sure.
Honey, I miss you - as
much as is possible -
although, I truly don't
want to admit it.
I haven't called in
some time, since I'm
filled with fear.
Do you have another?
I dread the possibility
of its existence.
I don't know if I love
you. Confusion has
thrown me two
sticks, but nowhere to
spark them.
Or, at least, an
enclosed place.
While you go on with
your life, I can't seem
to forget.
Maybe in your darkest
depths my memory is
there.
It'll always be.
Our paths will
eventually cross again
to end an unfinished
circle. We're only 180
degrees, not 360.
Now, if only we
could.
5.
In the early, early
morning I still
slept.
My back exposed
when you uncovered
us.
Gently you tingled
my spine, when you
rubbed a finger
along it.
Up, I shot, and
turned to you.
Lying there,
drowsiness and lust
came over us.
Sleepily, you
wrapped an arm
around while I edged
closer.
A hand felt my
nearer thigh.....
Seconds to minutes
passed -
build-up to
culmination.
Quite awakened, but
satisfied, I leaned
my head upon you
and looked at your
face. Your face
seemed to tell me
that you weren't.
I soon gave in to
your true
intentions.
6.
I think.
Maybe gone forever&
never of use again.
Hopelessly adrift
in a deep sleep.
Unless it comes back.
There's two paths comas
take: death or life -
which will it be?
I won't know until the
time comes - I'd better
wait it out.
Thinking is no help.
Things will pass at
their own will, but
it's up to me to catch
the good ones.
[I've been catching only flies.]
Muse of Inspiration,
are you there?
Dull and unclever thoughts
I have.
I want to be pregnant with
worthwhile ideas.
Or, at least, oil my mind's
wheel....Please, that's all
I ask for.
7.
My eyes look really bloodshot and I'm barely able
to lift my head from this pillow. The phone is
unhooked from an hour ago. Tissue paper scattered-
the ones that didn't make their target. Your call
hadn't started how it ended. Sweetly, you asked me
to marry you&have your babies&etc. I needed more
time which offended you. You claimed I didn't love
you. That I should of made up my mind already and
all these crazy ideas.
Now, I do agree. But, it's too late.
8.
By that house, lies a river.
One day, I sat down by that river.
I let my fingers draw ripples.
Back and forth they went.
Look. I've disappeared.
Look. I've re-appeared.
All by slight movement of my
hand.
I took my hand out.
Letting my face touch the water,
I bent over and looked in.
The reflections was of my face
and my shoulders.
My hair wasn't positioned the
usual way, but having gravity
pull it to the water.
It was cold and shallow under
the surface, and the taste of it
was clean.
When I took my face out, I heard
my name called.
I got up and left my little place.
9.
Gazing down at your lying under me.
Eyes barely opening and teeth
clenching.
Hands grasping shoulders or
waists.
Your head was tilting back.
I closed my eyes again.
Your breathing caused my eyes to re-open.
The forming of the lips was
arousing me further.
Sweating beads on the forehead.
Quickly shoving a finger in your mouth,
you responded rather well.
10.
Her lips quivered as she
witnessed all the things he did.
She couldn't believe what
happened.
His dark, glossy eyeballs held
her, while he continued doing
what he had to do.
Her left hand held the right
behind her.
At their positions, they were
completely attentive, But
unaware of the real going-on's.
What was being formulated in
his head was a curiousity of
her's.
Too bad that she never found out.
11.
The whispery voices filled the room.
Eyes and fingers pointed to the middle.
"How could you?" screamed a shrill voice.
Crying and rushing by, she passed me in the doorway.
The man remained standing with an awkward, saddened face.
I went over to him to know what that was about.
At first, he seemed shocked and reluctant.
He sat with arms crossed throwing a few words my way.
Being no help, I looked to the door, to see if she had returned.
He, then, turned to me, and uncrossed his arms.
Leaning over, he confessed all that had happened that night.
His head fell into my lap, blubbering about this and that.
I looked to the door, and saw she had returned.
Her eyes reddened, but concern overwhelmed her.
Over she went to us and reached for his hand.
He raised his head and gave a weakened smile to her.
I sat in the middle, as they tried to hug.
Struggling to escape, I heard the whispers again.
(Laughter was among them.)
Filled with relief, they joined among the other voices.
I managed to escape my position and was able to leave -
for that small scene was enough torture for one night.
12.
They sat on the couch.
Rose-colored lips moved onto his face.
A hand caressed her hair.
Her left hand almost brushed against my forehead,
for I was hiding and wanting to not be caught.
Their mouths looked somewhat connected,
and I sat on in misery.
My friend wasn't arriving.
I looked Over to the door.
Over to the other way.
I took a look Over the couch.
He wasn't anywhere.
They were still at it, and I decided they should stop.
Lightly, I tapped her hand.
It took her a while to notice, but she saw me.
Her boyfriend looked at me, then I realised something.
HE WAS THE ONE I WAS WAITING FOR.
13.
Deaden this pain in my mouth.
Please, make it stop.
Take it out.
It's right there.
Along the tongue's base, it is. It's hurting me.
Sitting where you could witness everything, on your throne.
I'm kneeling before you, as you offer the fruits to me.
I'm choking on them.
It's an awful mess.
I'm sorry you convinced me that it would be quite good.
I should bite your fingers off for all that happened.
See what happened out of what could of.
Odd at all the possibilities to have this result.
Choking, instead of enjoying.
No next time sorry.
14.
I only want you to notice me.
Poised there with glances cast your direction.
Your presence is overwhelming - I can't feel comfortable around you.
My mouth refuses to talk.
It feels so dry and withery.
Stuttering doesn't help, either.
I can never tell you how much you mean not one little word.
You still stand there.
Next to me, but so far away.
Away in your thoughts.
Who knows what you're thinking?
Maybe I'm back there somewhere.
(I doubt it heavily.)
I'll never get my wish.
My charms work against me.
It's all very well.
At least, no one is stopping me from continuous wishing.
15.
Quite late at night, we met up. Eyes full of hope, yet voices filled with nervousness.
Smiles exchanged and received. Then, kisses became more frequent.
My tee-shirt the first to go. My shorts the last.
I was amazed by all that happened. The smells, the sounds, the everything.
Your eyes turned different colors. From brown to hazel to green to any combination of the three.
You've left my body marked --Yet, I have no complaints.
How can I when that was the only time? Actually, I have one.
It was too short.
16.
The tension almost broke him.
Their bodies near the other.
Heat and confusion surrounded.
His gaze did what his hands wanted, and his hands did nothing.
Fidgety, he became.
Unable to focus on anything, because she controlled it all.
She may not know this, but he wanted to rip her apart.
It's all her fault that he's the way he is.
Drizzle temporarily cooled his nerves.
He thought it would wash away everything.
It did nothing to ruin his feelings.
He still waits there, after she left long ago.
17.
She hugged her pillow last night.
It was an unfair substitute.
Nothing could replace him.
He has exposed himself to her--
Now there couldn't be another.
Sleep was a foreigner to her.
Deep down something bugged her.
He could of had fantastic dreams,
while she starved herself of such pleasures.
The only presence she felt was loneliness.
Her eyes glazed and devoid of exhaustion, only stared at the walls.
Her blanket covered
her, but what use was it?
It was neither cold, nor hot.
All she could do was wait until
time became nice, and let her
start dreaming.
18.
I lied on my back
upon a marble table.
My lighter near the box.
Some chair supported my
ankles.
Little silvery rings of
Smoke were blown about.
[Inhaled, then exhaled.]
Funny cloudy donuts that
disappeared after
seconds.
A friend sat nearby
reading a magazine.
She didn't mind that I
was slowly poisoning
myself.
It's shameful to think it
better to finish the whole
box, rather than waste.
But, what do I know?
19.
I don't know what woke me up.
It was around 3 am.
I heard gentle snoring by my side.
It was rather funny,
but it made me lose interest in sleep.
I got up, and opened the blinds.
The light cast a glow on you.
An unhealthy greenish glow.
I could barely see you.
A strange sort of look
-- Strained, yet calm enough.
Eyes shut all the way.
After staring at you for a while,
suddenly you started, then awoke.
I was slightly ashamed by looking
at you that way.
You did nothing, but ask,
"Why are you there? Come back to bed."
I had no choice, but to oblige.
20.
She rests her head on her hand.
Her view is outside the third-story apartment window.
Sitting like a mute invalid.
Hair parts smoothly in the middle of a still head.
Heavy sighs fill the sparse room.
There is nothing to do, and no one to wait for.
So, what is she looking for?
She lives alone -- all her forty-five years --
For she never had married, or given birth,
and her friends had all moved away.
She is looking for re-assurance.
The only thing she could
manage to have from her
sad and lonely existence.
21.
He put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me.
I could feel the heat enter.
His nails felt rather sharp
when he dug in to acknowledge himself.
I swung around to look at him.
His eyes were filled hunger and anxiousness
I unattached his hand.
His hand joined the other, and attached themselves to my scalp.
I soon found myself involved with a kiss.
His grasp was tight against my nape.
I didn't want this.
He almost consumed me whole--
Yet, I broke away somehow.
22.
I hear his voice, but can't hear the words.
His intonation is fascinating the hell out of me.
He has no obvious accent, though.
I like it when he starts quiet, then becomes louder.
Or, when his voice raises pitch on vowels.
Or, even when he enunciates the wrong syllable.
There's a certain beauty in his face when he talks.
His eyebrows bob up and down.
His nose wiggles around.
All play center stage to his mouth.
It's hard trying to talk to him.
I get so lost sometimes.
He knows I can hear him
--Only that he isn't aware--
my attention isn't on what
he's saying,
but how.
23.
She pointed her head downwards.
As she looked out her window.
I saw from the street.
She didn't see me,but past in the same direction.
It looked like she was conversing with herself,
but I'm sure there was someone present with her.
I stood there looking up at her,
because there was a certain something about her.
She looked rather familiar,but I swear I don't know her name
--Maybe, it could be that she looked a lot like
puzzle pieces of people I knew.
Her blue eyes looked glazed with an iciness over them.
It looked like she was angry,
and about to smash the window she was leaning on.
I could only envision her breaking something with those dainty hands.
24.
The bath was half filled with tepid water.
You came in as a surprise.
I dropped my book in it.
You offered to help.
Leaned so near,
that I felt your breath.
A gentle hand touched my scalp,
then my neck.
I bent my head
down to look for
my book.
Your hand stayed
on my neck, but
suddenly grasped it.
I could feel it
almost snap.
Down--under
the water--I
remained.
You promised
to help me,
but you lied.
My book is still there.
25.
I stare at my finger constantly.
It's like something is missing.
I don't have a ring there.
Someone said I should.
I don't believe it's necessary, but it's bugging me.
Is it a matter of belonging or of trust?
Empty space is all I see.
Actually, does a ring signal involvement or imprisonment?
A wedding ring is one thing, but otherwise
--I don't know.
Two different situations call for different solutions.
I guess
--unless I marry you--
you have a choice to give me one or not.
Oh, but, you don't have to....
26.
"He thinks he can charm anyone in sight," I heard someone say.
I figured it's worth it to see if this claim is foolproof.
I looked about the room to find him.
He stood in one corner mesmerizing a young girl.
Well, she did look as if under his spell.
I went over to him in an effort to prove wrong.
He was quite a cocky bastard-believing any woman could be his if he wanted her.
He thought me pretty-I thought him handsome.
He tried pulling some moves on me
I tried nothing.
I didn't have to try anything.
He was definitely a loser.
27.
I'm here--lying on my past.
This room with the rug and walls.
Once a part of me, like everything else that was.
Here was a section where I burnt a tissue.
There the walls visibly own remnants of the shelves that were on them.
All the marks, cracks, and flaws that were once mine.
My bed used to be on that side.
That desk had another piece.
I can't remember what else I had.
[A lamp, a drawer, and other things--I think.]
I don't sleep here anymore.
Certain memories tie me in still.
I partially grew up in this room, or (at least) started to.
There's still things that lead me here, and make me stay for awhile.
Things that have nothing to do with "there".
28.
There's barely any light--Yet, I'm not completely blinded.
Someone's voice speaks from somewhere.
The words make partial sense.
Outlines are moving around.
I can't see anything clearly.
It's all dark and fuzzy.
I'm too far from the window to open the blinds.
Really--I don't know where I am.
If I reach into the air, could I touch someone or something?
I'm sure if I lean back, I could either
fall over or be propped up.
You touch my shoulder,
and make me turn aside.
My eyes aren't focusing,
but I could tell it was you.
I'm accustomed to feeling
your touch without any
light.
29.
My hands are
overloaded from all the
work they've done.
It's from all this strain of
raising a child alone.
That night was heaven,
but this is my reward.
When the time came for
him to prove his worth,
he left.
I swore--at the time--
he loved me, but it turned
out different.
He wasn't half the man
that I thought he was.
He's not entirely to blame
for--after all, it takes
two people to make
something as precious as
another person.
I'm ashamed to admit,
but I'm also at fault.
I play it over and over
again, and it just doesn't
seem to make sense.
If I got an another
chance, then I would
have used some sort of
birth control--or, even waited.
30.
At his window, he thinks I can't see him there--standing, or sitting.
It's partially open--as if, he has to hide.
I don't care, if I'm being watched.
I have nothing to hide.
Whatever urges him to be present there constantly.
He sees me amuse myself.
He sees me talk on the phone.
He sees me sit here.
He sees everything I do.
What pleasure does he get from knowing what I do?
I've never done anything sexual in front of him, so I don't understand.
Curiosity is a strange thing.
Very strange thing, indeed.
Again, I look his direction and see a cracked-open window.
I can tell someone is there.
It doesn't bother me, though
--Although, I can't see the point in hiding when I know he's there.
31.
I don't know how you do it.
Time after time,
I always feel bad from talking to you by whatever you say,
or however your tone takes.
It makes me so mad to know you have this power over me.
Do you do it on purpose or are you unaware of the message I'm getting?
I know you know how I am.
When my insecurities are put to the test,
it doesn't take much to prove the root cause.
32.
I turn off all my lights and wish I'd sleep.
There's no purpose to being awake,
when you are lying down by yourself.
It always takes too long.
That's why I like listening to you sing.
It's soothing and calm.
You help me fall asleep.
You and them, alone with the night and I.
I stare at the space above, while I take in
all that passes from your mouth into my ears.
I know how little babies feel when I'm being sung to.
Although, I'm not being cuddled and held,
I'm still gently sent to sleep.
33.
All around me nothing moves.
I sit on this wooden floor.
One book sits open
obviously
--This one I've chosen.
I hate complete silence,
so I listen to my mind read everything it sees.
It still would be better if I heard someone else's rustling.
I can't hear anyone or anything.
Please, someone, do something.
I have only silent words to keep me company.
I don't like being alone.
34.
Temptation stared me in the face.
I was awake next to a sleeper.
I in a chair, he in the bed.
Finishing a letter, the offer seemed alluring.
How can you not resist touching someone
who isn't conscious enough to know what is going on?
It's best when you rub their nose, or an earlobe.
People sleeping only move about.
The worst to happen is for them to wake up and slap you.
Most times, they twitch and move their hand about.
I couldn't resist.
It just called me.
I touched his exposed shoulder with a couple of jabs.
He seemed to brush away invisible pests.
35
Yesterday, I went to your house.
No one answered the door.
You gave me keys, so I could just go in and wait for you.
I used them.
It felt weird--As if I was breaking in.
Upon entering I heard mumbling and strange
noises from upstairs.
I should of just waited, but I was curious.
I sneaked up the stairs to hear the noises become louder.
It was loudest when I stood in front of your door.
I looked
-- There was someone in your bed.
That person wasn't alone.
They were with one of our mutual friends.
It was sickening enough to know they were involved, but this was even sicker.
For a few seconds,
I found myself thinking why they should use your bed,
because they don't even live with you.
Then, I remembered all your close friends
have keys to your house.
36.
Running from the scene,
it became more of a blur as I got farther away.
I ran as fast as I could.
I don't ever want to feel that way again.
It had started with flowers and a mysterious letters.
Then, it wound up into this meeting.
I'm unsure how it went from the first to second.
He arrived on time, like he promised.
That was a good sign.
I wasn't quite expecting someone so tall.
That was a bad sign-Maybe.
He seemed a gentleman-Until he bent over for a kiss.
I thought it an inappropriate moment.
I nudged him away, but he held me tighter.
He scratched my neck with his right hand.
I could feel it sting my skin.
Then, he stifled my mouth with his left.
I couldn't even breath.
I was extremely frightened.
I knew that I never experienced that before.
I had to fight or flee.
He looked too big to fight, so I quickly pushed away.
Before he could grab me again,
I--I've never ran so fast from anything.
37.
I lie on the couch and tell you more and more about myself with each second that passes.
I don't see any point to paying someone,
so they'd listen to my problems.
When I consider how much time is spent,
I realise how much of a waste it is.
Don't get me wrong,
but are you actually listening to me,
or just hearing sounds and mouthing off what is actually on YOUR mind?
No, really, do you even consider all your opinions aren't going to help the pain to heal?
I don't think it's very healthy to have someone else sputter junk at me and try to say they're helping.
I know you think you are trying to help me by
analysing everything I say and offering bits of advice in return for telling you what ails me, but
--Guess what--
I'm a compulsive liar,
and need someone to lie to.
38.
I think my violin isn't tuned correctly.
It's not playing music as beautifully as usual.
I'm sure my talent isn't diminishing on me.
Maybe my hands are becoming marred with a mysterious, uncurable disease.
Maybe they are becoming less usable, because of other factors.
The bow hasn't lost any horsehairs,
and the body of my beloved instrument isn't cracked (or deformed) in any way.
Nothing is physically broken.
I can't see what the problem is.
Maybe I'm doing something wrong.
I don't understand why this instrument doesn't want to play anything in tune.
39.
The thing you
gave me now lies
in a wooden box.
It's dismembered
into several
pieces.
Still, that doesn't
symbolize how
much I love you.
I'm sorry, because
I was alone and
bored. It was
really late into the
night -- Rise, it's
arm had already
come apart from
the rest.
I wanted to see
what was in it.
If a torn-apart doll
indicates what I
feel, then it must
mean I don't care
about you
anymore.
I know that's
totally wrong. My
obvious feelings
prove it.
The doll may be
separated, but in
no way can you say
it's evidence of my
affection.
40.
Do you think if
one little worthless moment of our lives were changed,
would the whole rest of our lives be different?
"I don't know. I guess it depends on what exactly you mean by worthless- Probably, not too much."
If, say, I didn't have
this obsessive side to myself,
would everything else reflect it?
"Before you go any further -- Where ever did you come up with these questions -- I guess..."
I don't know --
But, wouldn't it be great if we all
had time machines and changed whatever we hated?
"That would be all right, but if we could change whatever we liked -- Um, well...."
Don't tell me that you don't like the idea,
because I know you more than anyone else
isn't satisfied?
"I know, but there's beauty in things that are out of our control Then again, I wouldn't mind if..."
41.
I've been thrown
into the awkwardest
of ail situations.
Never home I been
this confused about
anything.
Now, it's a small
test of strength.
It's strange how one
person could change
everything, including
someone else
It's rather unkind to
say he ruined my life
by making me this
confused.
I home to admit it's
not all I his fault --
after all, he's not
the only one involved.
The other "him"
doesn't have to know,
but, it's hard to not
tell.
I can't say it's
rearing me apart, but
it does leave its
mark
It leaves me wishing
it all away or
quickly resolved.
I wish I knew ...
42.
They stood in the
middle of the festivities.
I say him brush the hair out of her eyes
and lean down and kiss her cheek.
I felt warmly towards them.
Next to them, stood a
pair that seemed the
opposite way.
They seemed ready to
explode and argue.
She was eager to strike.
I fell strange towards them.
I was more amused with
the second couple.
It's always mesmerizing
to watch people who aren't filled with flowery, silly love
-- the kind where one goes, Oh, Snookums..."
I watched as this
incensed young couple
tried to remain calm, so
not to gather unwanted
attention.
It's very strange how
some can handle it so
relaxed.
It didn't take long before
the woman went off.
I looked back to the
other couple and still found them disgusting.
At least, I still have them.
43.
The rum swimmed in my head.
It makes me do insane things.
Once, it got me to table-dance
after I ripped
open my clothing
Another time I related
all the stories of everywhere
I've been shagged.
You sat next to me and
watched my movements.
I turned to you and reached for your hand.
You didn't quite expect a thumb-sucking session.
I saw your face turn really nervous.
I haw to admit that this
wasn't as crazy as some
of the others.
Although I can't
remember what happened
next, I found the bottle
smashed on the floor
with your clothes on top.
44.
It's come sooner than I
expected, but I'm going now.
I never knew this day would come so quickly.
I'm sorry, but there's an way around it
In the beginning,
I knew the signs were positive and showed the right direction.
Now, they just stand in my way and lead me nowhere.
I realise I've been led astray and stand rather lost.
I kept waking without a clue to where I was --
Now, it's like the clues woke me up
45.
His soft lips parted
Slowly, slowly - They did that.
But, he kissed no one.
46.
A ring of flowers
Lay on the desk all alone
with an unused look.
47.
I'm still trying
to figure out
a sign that
we were made
for each other.
From what I
know there could
be some that
should get me
so curious.
Even then, I
wait for something
so clear, that
it stings me
from such a
strong slap in
the face.
48.
"You were very
naughty last time I
saw you.
I say you deserve a
good spanking.
Or, a certain
something should be withheld."
I laugh at you as your
face gives me that look.
You know that look.
The one that springs up
whenever I upset you.
You must like the games
I play, because you
always come back for
more.
I'm sure you deserve
better, but for now, this
is what you get.
49.
Everytime I think of you, cigarettes come to mind.
It's rather simple
to explain my logic.
You always smell,
always taste,
always -- of (most likely) Marlboro Lite's.
There isn't one moment that passes where I don't see you have one.
You even have called yourself a "chimney".
Let's see....
cigarettes after breakfast,
cigarettes after sex,
cigarettes after
--Well, you get the point.
I know this sounds weird, but I don't mind, at all.
Just as long as there's cigarettes in your hands and you're happy,
then neither one of us has anything to complain about.
50.
I find it hard to say.
It's just three little words long,
or however long in any other
language.
Well, I find it hard to say.
It's supposed to have some
sort of meaning -- Not just,
"Oh, it just came out."
Well, I do find it hard to say.
It's sprung out of my lips a
few times, but I don't know
if I've said it clear enough.
Well, I do find it hard to say.
It's something people
should realise has more than
one interpretation.
I shouldn't find it hard to say.
I know I mean what I tell
and should just spit it out.
"Bonjour...Je t'aime."
51.
The moon bathed us in light.
We stood hand in hand on the shoreline.
I turned to you and found your mouth completely responsive.
It was so soft and gentle.
I soon found myself lying
down with your hands all over me.
They were as warm as your mouth.
Even then, I don't know how it got that way.
It just went from A to B.
Our bare feet were wet from the water,
while the rest got sandy.
My hair fell around your face
with various strands in and out
of your mouth.
We made love then and there.
It was the most incredible moment.
52.
I saw a fire burning from my window and the beach-goers around it.
It stood out among the sand and showered them with warmth.
They looked as if they were shivering.
A late night dip in the middle of the dark
resulting in wet clothes and trembling voices.
A typical late night excursion for a few people
--I think there are only seven--
I can't tell from here really,
since they are a bit away from my seat.
I feel like a peeper because I doubt they realise
that someone they don't know
has a view.
53.
What do you do
when you feel everyone
is annoying you?
Do you hide away in an
attic and become well-red & pasty?
Do you lock yourself in
your room and learn an instrument?
Do you go somewhere deserted?
Just what are your options
when there's no other way.
Should you avoid public
places like: groceries,
shopping centers
and the like?
Should you refrain from speaking to strangers who pass by?
Should you shun visitors?
A life spent mostly alone
doesn't sound bad, when
you think about it.
All those ideas sound
nice, but wouldn't you
prefer it if you got over this phase?
54.
I touched his neck.
The hairs and nape
called my name.
My fingers smoothly
stroked it.
He bent his head
forward reading his
book, while I sat next
to him.
Our cigarettes
burning to their roots in our hands.
My legs were crossed, .
and his up on the dashboard
I got strangely
aroused off it.
My body felt
needed, but I couldn't
do anything about it.
My warm hands
gently rubbed down it,
then up in direction.
Slowly, slowly they
went and moved over
it.
I prefer his hair
short, rather than all
the extra hair he told
me of.
I wouldn't miss a
moment so strangely
arousing and
tempting.
I would't miss it for
the world.
55.
A drowned beauty lay in the pond.
Hands tied and mouth gagged.
No visible signs of struggle
--looking like she done it herself.
She lay there unmoving and unable to hear anything.
No hints of life chose to be around her.
Only serene water and leaves are her company.
I saw her under the branches,
while playing hide and seek.
Her eyes were closed,
as if deeply asleep.
Her hair was in-between
blonde and brunette
--without a touch of mud--
but it was the muddiest part of the pond.
It's possible that she was
freshly strangled and
dumped here.
56.
We were saying our farewells
on the doorsteps.
It was almost midnight and
the moon was over our heads.
Before looking into my eyes,
your hand lingered on my
shoulder.
My hands rubbed your hair to
which you responded
affectionately and deliberately.
Then, came the kiss
It was done slowly that
every second could be
savoured, and You
whispered, "I love you,"
so seductively in my ear.
I went inside the house and
watched as you left down
the steps, from the window
After I saw you take one
final look, I closed the
window.
57.
He gave me a bracelet made of bronze and fake crystals.
I more it on my wrist, But lost it the next hour.
He gave me earrings made of copper and ruby.
I wore them on my ears, But lost then the next day.
He gave me a necklace made of silver and garnet.
I wore it on my neck, But lost it the next week.
He gave me a ring made of gold and diamond.
I wore it on my humbling finger, But lost it the next month.
He gave me his love made of his emotions.
I wore it on my heart, But lost it the next year.
58.
It's upsetting to hear an appliance is taller.
I can't help my height.
There's not a drug out there that could change genetics
--I know.
I blame my stature on the genes I've received.
My age points out that this is all I'm getting for now and forever.
Height is one of those uncontrollable forces
like earthquakes and hurricanes,
that obviously no person can regulate.
Some people don't think of me as small, but smaller.
Unfortunately, smaller isn't good enough for me to consider myself
a comfortable distance between the floor and ceiling.
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