Your tongue makes a precise incision,
Words like a scalpel, cutting with precision,
Bypassing my systems like a jewel thief,
Grasping hold of my heart.

Are you a bard or a thief?
It’s hard to tell the difference—
When you play my strings like a guitar,
Out of mind, yet in tune with the violence.
Your eyes direct like storm clouds,
Twisting my image until it suits your need.

Just make a decision—
I’m exhausted with pretense,
Starving for substance,
Why is it that no one replaces what they take?

And if I were a bodega,
I’d stock only the finest farewells,
So you couldn’t buy happiness,
While pawning my world to the highest bidder.
You thought me caramel, but I tasted bitter,
Spoiled long before you spun a web.
I’m not dancing to your tune; the music is dead.

Harsh stabs in my throat.
I let them slice through.
Your words cut me sometimes,
But I let them go for you.

I wonder why I always tiptoe,
Why I swallow my tongue,
Like I swallow food.
Why I abandon myself,
To enjoy the pleasures of you.

Middle of the night, I hear myself scream

I pray it was all a fever dream

She’s standing in the corner, eyes staring at me

Her face hidden in the shadows for me to never see

Her glare burns through the pitch black of the room  

Everything around me is engulfed in heavy fume

Shadows dancing on the wall

Is it her or just the city’s lights?

Toying with me in the dead of night

I’m startled even by a phone call

‘You are what you did’

She said from the dark in which she hid

Her voice pierces new holes in my heart

The first rays of sun creeping in through the blinds

Pull me far away from her into their warm embrace

And finally there's nothing left of her but a blank space

If I can’t love like you
Won’t you love me too?
I don’t really know
how to show

That I care

That I want
To be
That person in your life

That makes you smile

That makes you laugh

That makes you feel

Better

But I can’t do much
But burn your
pretty skin

And break your
pretty heart

And wish I was
like you.

Wreathe of lies
Adorn my body with your flowers,
Your flowers of lies—warm and afresh.

Pin them hard,
Till my skin becomes rosy,
And cheeks a little lake,
For the flowers must not dry.

Pin them with needles,
Close to my chest,
Where my treasure lives—
Alone and alive.

What have I become,
But a wreath of your lies.
The flowers withered
And the sweetness lost forever.

Unpin the needles,
Tear the flowers,
I’d still be bleeding,
For I held onto your thorns,
Knowing you’re a rose.

Some good things
must come to an end
like the connection
from friend to good friend

People make promises
that they fail to keep
and stick their heads in
where heads should not peep

and their noses by far
are the worst you see

They have no respect
for your privacy

Why throw stones
when you can shoot bullets
at the sculpture of life
and completely destroy it

then proceed to blame others
for your downfalls in life

and to yourself,
Continue to lie

There are many things in life
that you simply can't change
you can only numb
the heart-wrenching pain.

Don't get caught up
in lives that aren't yours.
If it ain't your desk,
Don't open the drawers…