Please just let me take your picture...

please, please, please..


Oh you have issues honey, don't you?

I had stood at the age of seven, gripping my mother's wrists, trying as hard as i could to keep her from going...

Her eyes, i recall, melting with tenderness and confusion, as she continued muttering strange, unwieldy words: "My little eye sack. My little Brahma lamb. Mommy's going to be okay. Don't worry."


I never stay in lines!

"Hey, where are you?"
"LOST", i muttered and started to laugh and then he laughed and i don't remember the rest. I don't remember his door, all those stairs to the second story, the clatter we made making our way down the hall, never turning the lights, the hall lights or his room lights, falling into the futon on his floor. I don't even remember how all our clothes came off.

Yeah i know, the dots here don't really connect. After all, how does one go from a piece of poetry to a heart wrenching beauty to the details of a drunken one night stand? I mean even if you could connect those dots, which i don't think you can, WHAT KIND OF PICTURE WOULD YOU REALLY DRAW?


Don't get mad baby

We were just standing there trying to find the right things to say when i saw a light coming from a dark corner. I really tried to focus to see what this beautiful light was but your voice didn't let me, you start yelling that you meant nothing to me and i gave up. When i turned again there was nothing, gone! Oh how many things i have lost because of you!

But hey, dont even think about it, you can't save me, you never could. Only when i put my lipstick on i feel like myself..


This is you, Enjoy..

It used to be good, i believe for a moment or so i enjoy it. Until i saw the truth. You are what i refused to see. You came looking good almost perfect but now i can see the scars in your right cheek. Deep like the one that i feel inside me after saying goodbye. Arrogant, unsafe, not funny at all. I know i'm stuck, i believe this is totally my thing. Not looking good though. I stop thinking for a moment and try to breath. I do my best to see the future and then i see you again, weak and crummy asking over and over again for forgivness. Pleased and happy i take you back, silly me..



Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share..


Powerful root

She was wide open, talking in everything i told her without judgment, just listening, listening to the way i phrased it all, listening to how i felt. That's when something really painful tore through me, like some old, powerful root, the kind you see in mountains sometimes splitting apart chunks of granite as big as small homes, only instead of granite this thing was splitting me apart. My chest hurt and i felt funny all suddenly realized i was going to start sobbing. Now i haven't cried since i was twelve, so i had no intention of starting at twenty-five, especially in some fucking Thai restaurant.


A little while later, when we said goodnight, she gave me a big, sweet hug. Almost as if to say she knew where i'd just been.
"You're alright Johnny" she said for the second time that night. "Don't worry so much. You're still young. You'll be fine"...



I met Ashley, Ashley, Ashley.. the sun could make you sneeze. Only back then her hair was dyed neon green, matching her Doc boots, a match made in heaven, both of us together, talking and talking, at first timidly and then responding more avidly to the obvious attraction both of us could feel until she gave me her number and i wrote down my number, my first name and my last name, which was how, years later she finally found the right number to call and she kissed me and i kissed her and we kissed for a while more until she invited me home and i said no. I had fallen in love with her, flash of gold and sunlight and Rome, and i wanted to wait, in three days call her, court her, marry her, impregnate her and fill our house with five blonde daughters, until... oh oh no, where have i gone now? horror but not horror but another kind of -orro-? or both, or im not sure..

Of course i lost everything.. I lost her number, i lost her and then in a fugue of erasure, i lost the memory of her, so promise and all that hope. I am too late. I'm lost inside and no longer convinced there's a way out. Bye Bye Ashley and goodbye to the one you knew before i found him and had to let him go..