springsteen

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Your love. Your love. Your love. Turns to ashes in my mouth and dust in my blood.

Not that I have a choice- but, if I did- I'd wish that all my faculties remain intact except for sight.

Hearing, I need. Touch, I cherish. Taste, is essential. Smell, is crucial. Sight- well, sight is a hindrance to my intellect. Seeing is the opposite of believing.

I believe I'd be a better person- an endearing human being- if I couldn't see. I believe I'd be a more sensitive lover if I had to imagine the beauty of your face- of your body under covers- with kisses, licks, fingertips, sounds, and scents; solely.

Sight is overrated- you see? I'd poke out my own eyes in order to perceive my reality clearer. If I weren't such a coward.

Your heartbeat is the soundtrack to my failure. Sadly. Sadly your Cadillac is no longer pink.

And, Bruce Springsteen has become my best friend- to the bitter, bitter end.

i traced your name in my veins

my head was full of desert air;

your heart was stuffed with city
despair

and pain.

the air made my brain
forget the most important thing:

my heart.

I thought time apart
was what we needed
to be

together again

yet

with a big head
I took it
a step

too far;

now we are

sleeping
hardly,

in different
beds-

now, we are
separated

by miles
upon miles
on end

in different
cities-

we were a string
unraveling, a thread
splitting

up at the sides and seams

in an empty, lonely
apartment I decide
to hide it (to hide
the longing/love in
a tiny red envelope
along with a note)

it works for approximately four months

before I can no longer lie
to myself; cradling
poor health
I dial

you

don't answer; you never answer.

with a tumor threatening
to take over my heart
like cancer

I relapse into the past

thinking maybe I could make
you come back to me by drawing

blood from the veins
in my arms that
resemble tracks

or routes on
highway
maps-

the walls tumble and crumble, then crack.

I shout it out; there's nothing,
no ring, no answer, only
the cancer and scars
on these arms,

I traced your name in my veins

with needle points
pointlessly

for now you are even further from me

and I am lost;

I paid the price
but forgot
the cost.

a coney island of the heart

A Coney Island
of the heart-

Act your age (on this stage)
and sweetheart dress the part

It's a roller coaster
ride inside
my mind/

Inside thighs

I swear on my life
there's a design
to end all designs.

A Coney Island
of the heart-

O! my non-love
from above: believing is art.