sitting here in my field.
waiting,
watching,
the bugs crawl by.

they scream a harsh laugh my way,
out of my mind i laugh back,
at myself.

again.

because of how stupid i was to believe it all.
the love,
lies,
everything.
the joke,
no reason why you shouldve kept it going but to tell me in an adult manner,

not this.
this way.
this hurt,
is un-worthy.

it should be stronger,

so i dont fall for it again.

sitting here in my field.
with those flowers.
in that gorgeous manner.

proper,
inwhich you are not.

yet neither am i.

telling me all the things i did wrong,
will teach me,

it hurts.

but helps.

in some manner...again,

yet i still day dream
sitting here in this field.
thinking of everything...

you.
it.
her.

their jokes.
their lies as well as yours.

and my own pathetic needs/wants/beliefs/happenings.

you hold the phone and 
your brother loves you 
/across a country
you lean just a little farther out
the window
/wondering if like he did back then
he'd still make it in time to catch you
/wondering if like he did back then
he wouldn't tell.

My poor friend Mike, he’s drunk again. Two beers
and he’s already texting me. “they playd
that songg u luv nd it reminded me
of u”. A few more cups and we’re at, “heyyyyy
u like my abs?” and then an “lol
cuz i really like u.” Then soon, “im home,
but u shuld b here 2.”  And then he spills
some more: “i thnk ur cute :)” shows on my phone
We’re friends, I think. He’s drunk. It’s just a fluke.
It gets too late. He begs, “will u plz tuck
me in?” And when his eyes begin to droop,
the last: “forgiv me plzzz but we shud ****.”

Embarrassment exudes when we next pass.
He looks at me, his face bright red. I laugh.

the sting your stubble left is still lingering on my lips,
like invisible mosquito bites that tickle more than itch,
as i wrap my arms around your neck, i ask:
just friends? and readjust myself in your lap.

so you pull me in closer, you nod to confirm:
the two of us, we’re nothing more than zookeepers.
throwing fresh meat in the den of the lioness,
controlling those animals lying deep inside of us.

Before the gate has been closed,
before the last question is posed,
before I am transposed.
Before the weeds fill the gardens,
before there are no pardons,
before the concrete hardens.
Before all the flute-holes are covered,
before things are locked in then cupboard,
before the rules are discovered.
Before the conclusion is planned,
before God closes his hand,
before we have nowhere to stand.

Like the last time
-Sarah Wojnicki

A look, a smile-
look away, and back again.
You feel her
leading you into temptation,
seducing you with her smile.

                                                  Seduction at its finest.

She looks so bold
with her lips blood red,
begging,
please touch.
An allure you know
you can’t ignore.

His eyes were dark
A certain spark
Deep in his mind,
The killing kind
He hid it well.
He could not tell
Till all this came
To a beautiful end.

Coming to grips
With the way
Your hand released
Its fingers from mine
Is like following
The freefall
Of a suicidal sky diver

Even as he
Plummets to
His period
For an instant
It seems as if
He might have flown

The moon could no longer hold her orbit
so as she descended she lost many things
the last of which was her craters
the things that had once made us love her
all broken and wrenched from dream

Harvest moon--
called at his house,
he was digging potatoes.