Cliché

Secretly I wish I had never known you
Secretly it hurts to remember
The laughter we shared
That chapter of the frayed moments
Where we clung to each other
For dear life.

This is a bitter tear, a burden
so dreadfully sore.

This is a cliche, I write for you
Because there are no other ways
to express it anymore.

(04Apr.2006)

Figurine friends

They smile in effervescent bubble
Talk, laugh like peals of tinkle
Metal but melted
Hallow, hollow, a halo of curious
illuminate expression
Tracing dialect fiber aroud their
Plastic waists.
Plastic faces whose cheeks I love
They glare, pose peaceful concrete
rosy complexion

Haiku from my childhood

Drinking the winter
It shatters my tongue and tastes
Like bittersweet wine

Unwanted territory

Hey friend, I don't feel safe in this heat
With you in this mineral valley
of misnomers and gnomes.
They tickle my feet with a gritty beat
Smelting grins between magma stones;

They craft a whiskered nest, in which
my contiguous skin receives no rest,
Plucking empty whispers from the blue,
Aching for this heart to arrest.
Sorry, I never want this home with you.

So few, the euphonious strings to resonate
Extracting from marrow a salty residue.
I'd rather otalgic to flattery, for vain
Within me boils to a viscous hate
Imbued with the obligatory migraine.

Your pox and sores putrify my puerile wall
(I like a hyperbole, you understand),
To illustrate the futility of it all.
You're not the culprit like I am, a fool
But sorry, so sorry, I just don't give a damn
about you.