were taught to lead them on, and hold out as long as possible.
when was i going to get the memo?

say what now?

.

im batman

parts one two and three

     I.

Its a burn

a tickle

a moment

something fleeting

something fickle

its my guilt

my lust

lie and lay, lay, lie

its the way your blanket stuck to me 

balls of cotton on my clothes

your feet too close to mine

your toes, on my toes

and then theres that smell

dirty and paternal

you remind me of my father

but not the better

say were free

promise to respect boundaries

nothing but a lie spoken soft upon my leave

II.

those deep eyes saddening

your witty remarks maddening

jeans slowly unbuttoning-

stop

but you dont

and i dont try

i take it all in stride

its a simply unchangeable motion

just a little notion of the pain

the guilt ill always feel

III.

we used to be friends.

throw backs from my tumblr

Remember when we got back together?

this is my face

ekphrasis- 1930 lake george by early moonrise georgia o'keefe

ekphrasis- Ralston Crawford, at the dock no 2

publishing the lucy letters

get the hell out of here

so

ive realized i only blog when i drink
and its not cause anyones interested in what im posting,
but the things i stumble are just great.
so heres a bunch i screenshotted

                      <--thats acid. 

in the zone.

i just want to hold you
and wrap my arms around
every word you say
forgive me if i ask
that you forget me not
i just want to hear you
and watch the sentences leave
your mouth and tell you
your the only one for me
whether or not its true
i have completely disregarded
rhyme and my lines are
more of a log
possessed by a woman
who travels too much
to remember the names
of every one she
meets but she knows
their faces or at least
the way they kiss
this started as a poem
then a song
and it has become this
i dont know where i am
going and i dont know what
i am going to do
but i know sure as hell i
do honestly care about you
and you, and you and you
and dont i do this far too
often to make the same
mistakes again
ive gone to typewriter from pen
oh dear, that was too
romantic for the
harsh light of the screen
as i call a key board by
a more sophisticated name
as i call my self a connoisseur
and not a god damned stoner
i am either a crowded room
or i am alone, i am either
in love with my self
or in loathe of my life
or something like that
or love.

today

i tried to rap.
i am not a rapper.
but hey- im not a quitter either.

take your freedom and run, you dreamer

www.graphicpoetry.net

sway

Lucy, come home
I've tried the other muses and they're no good
I've left the city, and returned, and did not once think of
This Charming Man, only the handsome country boy-
Or maybe I did
Lucy, I've been drinking
The wine was always for you
I've emptied bottles and cans and looked at photos of you
and I
Lucky, your so far from lonely
I've finally discovered summer in a pile of Ginsberg and Sexton
So far from where I could have been
where I was
Lucy, just come home to me
Perhaps I'm too romantic
I promise it's just diction
I will be void of emotion
thats a lie, however
you could still come home tonight.

i lied, because this is my actual wedding cake

my wedding cake perhaps?

all i have to say

      is that getting back to my roots... well it

i dont know quite what I'm doing, but I will no longer be all talk baby. 

if you put two italians in a room

it will turn into a wednesday night sauce-off!

i disconnect my heart, my head