He asks me if
I believe in angels
And before I realize
I don't have the heart
To tell him, I tell him
"Not Lately.."
And just wait
For him to hate me

But he doesn't
Know how to
So he never does
Loving like a man
In the time
Before God gave
Man religion and
Left it to them to
Figure out
What hate was

I know you've heard of RINOs,
Perhaps you've heard of DINOs,
Some Christians are called CINOs,
Are those men mere MINOs.
Women become WINOs
(the irony doesn't escape me thouogh)
Humans evolved to HINOs;
Friends are friends
I'll never call them  FINOs.
Avoid lovers who are LINOs,
And teachers who are TINOs.
Could a Jew be a JINO?

But make no mistake:
Terrorists are Terrorists,
Jihadists are Jihadists,
Haters are Haters,
War mongers are war mongers,
Liars lie.

It's We thePeople, PINOs.

warmth.
a fire that needs kindling.
it’s dying out,
we’ve lost the tinder stick.
so i blow.
i fill up my lungs until they hurt:
inhale;
exhale;
my head spins and there is no air.
i do it again,
i don’t save any for myself.
i am dizzy.
the ash is swirling
up in the air.
inhale.
exhale.
my chest is going to burst.
the ash is settling on my skin,
tattooing the harsh reminder
of how much i give.
inhale.
exhale.
i can no longer see.
inhale. exhale.
i have done all that i can,
all that remains is my soul.
my heart has abandoned me,
my lungs have died.
my mind is on the outs with me,
she says i shouldn’t even try.
do i throw it into the embers, too?
perhaps that’s all it needs to stay alight forever,
but i am too tired now.
i never listen.

i just want to see
if he texted me back.
no, no,
i don’t really care,
it’s just that
when i talk to him, it feels as though my words are finally worth something.
it’s not like i cannot go by my day without his acquaintance,
i am a writer after all,
and i am accustomed to a life where my words are disregarded.
i speak to the wind and that is okay.
but i am a writer and all i want is
for somebody to listen to my ramblings
and to understand
me.
i just want to see
if he said hello;
because yes i can get by with him not texting me back,
my rants do not always have a response
(discontinued)

these three words
they’re heavy for me to say
so let me show you instead
let me show you in the way i
hold your words close to my heart
i gather so many of them
scoop them into my arms to hug them tight
i love every word
they begin to overflow
drip
trail behind me ablaze
they are bright and they are yours
they warm my heart
let me show you in the way i
speak to you
pile of words aside
my three words are hard to say
not because they aren’t true
i can show you what I mean
when i understand your wants
amongst your needs

i have never loved anybody the way i loved you
i’m afraid that i never will
i know not all love is the same
but must you be the one i never forget
must you be the one i compare to all the rest
maybe it’s not you
yeah, you weren’t perfect
perhaps you were just the first time
i put my all into somebody

a perfect canvas can get away with anything,
even destruction.
nothing done to it will destroy it, only make it shine.
add this, and add that.
pile on all the things that made everybody else undesirable.
instead of revolting, you become art.
was it a transformation of the hands or one of the eyes?
it’s like you had become adorned with colour and shine
instead of a veil to hide your reality.
the blandness beneath,
or the stark truth behind you.

mayhap it was a transformation of the heart.
it seems as though one may have bartered their life
just to be worthy of a glimpse
for five more minutes.
perhaps not merely a glimpse,
more, a lifetime.
what is it about

i think people don’t ever understand what i mean
he hands her his cigarette
as if in wordless consolation
she does not smoke
and she has never touched a cigarette until this moment
she meets his extended hand half way
she wraps her fingers around the instrument
as if it were a crutch
your cigarette anchors you
she tells him, but does not think he understands
he anchors her
anchor on rocky bay
the world around them is the wind
and she is the boat
mercilessly, harshly rocked
on the water's surface
until she is hitting the rocky shore
over and over
over and over
hurting
just to stay anchored to him
i wish you understood.