what you do and what you dont, love your life and sadness wont (touch you)

PREFACE

Sadness! oh god...
you know seems im running away -- almost every single day now
but i got trax on you now
i see your gravitation
                  your force
can see you coming closer
                back into my circles
cant face you
so here atleast i can try to...
address you (wow, a coward!)
try to
get honest and face what im doing? what the fuck?
not always healthy
not always bad luck
following those
whose real? whats true? aww DOLORES!
you gotta leave me alone!
you deaf? me monotone
please damn near hear me?
please, drop a tear, so i know im not alone

no, i know you, how you work
 topple me right over
 capsize me. get mean!
aka drowning!

no, unh-ah,
 im real - im eyes
i realize
this is not in the cards
 not now (forgive me)
youre not welcome
not in this mind body spirit soul....
ecosystem of self? too fragile i feel
i feel it, i know it, the feeling too strong.
just listen and hear me, respect me then leave me!
sadness, please goddess!  please sadness!
move on

please
someone else
may they tolerate
or up from zero
titrate
teardrop to soft rain
to gale force
hurricane you are!

so i ask, dear goddess! what to do?
 i been ducking and dodging her, her black eyes follow me and want me to feel that pain i remember when not able to forget. the defenses? i been trying them! trying to protect!
my volatile line it up in the firing range and take her out? its missing. in absentia.
im losing it (what i have not lost!)
take her out before she takes my ass out. survival time...i know it

shes hanging over me heavy deep,
 i worry so much im losing sleep.

BODY (OF TRUTH)
sadness is slow-like,
he fucks in his denim
cause he was so slow
to unbutton the fly?
because hes too busy
doing nothing but cry?

sadness i laugh at,
cause sadness just fears that
the laughter and loving
of the woman he wants...

he can have!

i just laugh at his thinking
because hes so sad
you laugh when the sadness
is so strong and tangible
like laughing
at funerals
or laughing
when diagnosed

with something unwanted
dreaded and terrible

the diss of your ease
uncomfortable fertile

we laugh at the doctors
whose faces like newsreels
american i mean
the kind loved by sadness
cbs and foxnews
ceo fear and sadfests

his handkerchiefs
are widely known
to be visited upon
networks
across the cable dial
sadness like walmart
eats the little ones
right up

 single file!

eats the whole country
through lightboxes flat
and curries your curry
with salty teardrops in pots

he even merged with god
(as some people call it)
creating rain when they do bad
(or locusts when real bad)
sadness comes over
the ones holding bibles
i feel for them not
cause they chose the revival

King James, this is it!
in between the light boxes
they exclaim with some knowing
that escapes them like foxes

but mind over matter
their god brings them joy
colors their lenses
with pink label foie
gras that they eat
when they meet in old fashion
round tables where Judas
was once held
for fashion

me?
 i choose eastern
old books for my brain wash
cause old testament
namesakes they...
got me so lost

like whose son of uncle
met aunts daughters baby
and created some guy
who parted seas
with the strength of two forties
(old english makes eighty)
ounces of power
to part the red seas
(or read that part there)
or give the old testament
a refresher
(lobotomy!)
dename the named
unify the dichotomy!

and the nameless run over

many whom were she
cause she was not equal
to man, in their lessons

i was taught to suck on his toes
in these sessions...

after the foot got washed
you suck them dry,
girls, and then birth
another one, (a man lets hope)
not the weaker of the sexes
but the dopest of the dope

now get steamrolled in 2000
by some puritan's lexus
he bought with your money
your parents gave him to care for you
even though his caring
feels like being under...

his shoe

the sole the easterners know
is dirty and dry
best keep it out of my face!
(if you wanna survive)
cause the buddha loves the women
they taught him kama sutra

he is grateful

he drops you in the pantheon
dropping you like knowledge
the goddess welcome anthem
not underground
nor lost
in third person male.
its natural
to say he him
before and after your
a-men

for women
are like W
followed by an omen
to our fancy men
we must make them beholden
not real aggro
but passive
aggressive is the way
no birkas to wear
just sexy lingerie

and teach them to shake it
like milk shakes in yards
to all of your friends
playing poke her --you know --

'cards'

and talking about her
like shes on the grill
serve her with butter
then cream...
then chill
in bed beside her
as she sucks your toes
and if she wont do that, well
'she sucks!'
case closed!

swear on the bible
this mis-nomer
passed to progeny
makes us lamer,
our culture,
its simply misogyney

so watch out for smart girls!
they arent sexy
watch out for arabs
cause they are too obvious
making women
how we learned
they all ought to be --
tied in a bow
and fucked behind
a tree

its natural
we love it
the thong rides her ass
we tap it like maple
served in flutes
with class

the passive aggressive
second class citizenship
they bestow
makes me load the gun gently
touch it
 lightly
to his
toe

the big one
the target
the big toe ego
the big one
i sucked it
you suck now
go blow!
or join us
the women
you salivate your rivers for!

join us and watch us
cut out all indian givers!
another misnomer
the givers who take
the hypocrisy sucks up
like the tail of a snake

following the followers
down a loveless path
crank up our country radio
and jump in the bath

the goddess provides
bathe and reside
right here where fresh pussy
is yours !
here to ride!

cause we give it all
to the men who drop everything
religion and ego and all
that blows out sunshine
to see the world truly
in gray tones of glasses
(the women conveyed,
from macys with plastic.)

your credit is good
when you paid it due
become a real man
and bend down.
suck our toeringed
truths
then rise up stronger
stronger than imagined
cause goddess loves a man
who gives up all...

to follow passion


romance
in mouth of reality
a tunnel
of love likeness
cause we all hate to admit
that those we love
not always like
this

truth
set you free
and gets you her
panties
or is the marketing here
too much
truth be told?

it also sucks
because you will do
what you do irregardless
and all that i just wrote
is less
and less
like when i talk of giving
my ass to your taproot
selling my sex
like dominatrix
licking boot?
like i swallowed
the poison
just like you did?

can you blame me?
im sexual
i want this
to be what you see
which is why i take time
in front of the mirror
making faces
like divine

not no real
not this truth talk!
post feminist
gabba-pentin
devilish intellectual
drowning
manna from heaven
ruining the game!
like cash for clunkers
ruined escalades
suv gas sucking
head for the bunkers
fight for more oil
for no apparent reason
(call them old fashioned
cause birkas are in season)

looking outward not in
to the american systemic
girls hold it tight
so the game can go on --
act like integrity
is blocking his mental
from flossing your thong

see i have to admit
im systemic
mouthwash
american all over me
like wet tshirt...

yields cash
i want to sink into --
the sugardaddyscenario
live for getting tanner
and loving
testosterone

i wont sugar coat it
to feed my own ego,
stop talking about yours
oh my gosh -- im fainting! hold me!
theres a mouse on the stairs
and open that door
and buy me a cosmo
ill read you from magz
that get your hard
hard on
and ill know i must
take you
to be promised
a princess
pedispamanicureal

your thing?
how colossal!
will it cure
my talkcereal
of labels and girls
im jealous of all day?
(pinching myself
i must lose more weight)

what an embarrasment
carried over the threshold
he falls like the soldier
in O Stones 'Platoon'

cant take her weight, captain
shes taking on water
call the ambulance
call two!
(i slipped a disc
as i caught her)

a noble man trying
to trick up his princess
who wants it like this
and sucks in recess

like arab women too
and antarctican animals
the man is the hunter
and shes just delicious

but self-consciously so
is the human animal add-on
like some turn of the table
but really some fad on

the hypocrisy eclectic
and oh so electric!
so now i bend over
and take you inside

tell me who i am
and where i reside

miss mr i may i
or mother what to do?
do i step aside and let him
and act like i have no clue?

mother will give you the
advice that you need
be a well mannered young lady
and give him!
he needs!
i proudly present
my daughter in silk
easier to disrobe her
(she does not know
i worked the angle
removing her buttons
at most pressing places)
to assuage the ego
of my son in law she faces
i want her to know
you from deep within
(so i can live through it
and feel my own skin)
again

my daughter shes priceless!
she takes my advice!
when i say bend over
she wont think twice

shes been taught the asanas
of bikram yoga
she sweats in her underclothes
so to delight you
to stretch her
like laffy, the taffy
(she does not know
how i coached her)
to bend herself around you
pretty and thin and
to be taken
by your manhood
forsaken

to turn her eyes...
 upward
in deep concentration
as she sees now her place
is to best be sensation
al you get busy
and train her some more
i want this one daughter
to turn out a whore!

(cause my bad side was repressed
when i was a girl
i raised her from scratch
shes like me then, a pearl)

and vicariously
now (she claps),
without admonition
i selflessly proclaim
her virginity --
in your
kitchen!

so flatten her belly
and wax that ass!
let her be the oven
play your games
on her grass!
invite your friends over
(hell use the webcams
so mom and dad
can look proudly
over your shoulder
at our little girl)

she will learn a lesson
and stop with her
tomboy routine and surrender
(or fight first to stop
your breath taking
manhood
into her mouth)

As it be, as it should!
and then she will sweat
her pure driven water
and i will command
'go for it!'

fuck my daughter!
and she will squeal
feeling betrayal
and i will smile
and watch you fuck
her--right at the table
with all family around
so she knows her place
missionary style
while we all say grace

and then come the clothes
as her attitude adjusts
and she gets on all fours
delivered in trust

in trusses
or corsets
whatever!
make her a milkmaid
come on now!
get clever!

help her enjoy
her new calling
or we will put her on the streets
if you start to stalling
or answering her prayers
to let her be free
and become what she wanted
a keeper of bees??

no daughter of mine
will take away my passion
by wearing a suit
of metal?
 wheres the fashion?

no tomboy will be
in my family tree!
mini skirts will do
hell-  charge a fee!

to put it in stone
this mothers secret desire
(this repressed puritan woman
who once sang with choir
and gave birth to the child
the one youve been given)
to unleash her wild side
and it will be written;
like mother like daughter
cathartically sexual:

opening legs
both horizontal
and vertical
to cover all bases
and be for all men
lefty? no problem
squeeze her tits
to no end

for they wont discriminate
at which hand you use
the other runs deep up
her little miss oven boo!

when she comes running to mama
to tell me her stories
about how you raped her and lent
her to friends
i will say '
honey, on this we depend,
your tricking
your treat
and princesses feet
must be for the family!'

the dutiful bound
we are aware
how he treats you
we think it is sound

we want you fresh fucked
like you are now, wet cheeked

crying because you miss
feeling him embracing you whole
and making you give up
your body and soul
to the moans that we hear
through the walls so thin
your father is rooting
and coming again
after years of a drought
your poor mother has suffered
i brought you in this world
(and yes it gets tougher)

your grown now and lean
and for you he fiends
you brighten us all
when you bend over--
so clean!

fresh and tan princess
be our star!
smoke his well smoke his well smoke his --cigar!

and stop worrying now
your pretty little head
your place is decided
in thongs in the bed
dont make us cuff you
and start bondage games
youre not ready yet
(though that is in sight)
just like his cock loaded
so full at you aimed,
smile and take it
and clean the windowpanes!
so we can all see
and be proud of you now
showing your tits
and moaning
oh how!


EPILOGUE


sadness he flaunts his miserable condition
hes petty and immature
his science is fiction
the labcoats they ponder
a pharmaceutical response
to the efforts of sadness
to burn us like friction.

sadness once had me,
he took me to dinner
he fed me champagne
he looked like a winner

i raised up naively
like that boy, son of the champ
in that movie about boxing
and the boy son of champ

his light eyes so shining
to watch his hero dad
beat men to the canvas
the boy smile- clad

and sadness clandestine
took over the tape
the film switched so quickly
like tarantinos french cinema lady
conspiring against evil
the way we must
fight sadness

switch our own tape
and create sunshine madness
each day that we wake
the opportunity arises
to get past our sadness
with happy madness disguises

shoot rays of sunshine
out of our palm (pilots)
if its not been reviven
our joy
we revive this

or should i say arisen
like the sun every day
we make our own choices
and lie in the hay
or the muck or our own mindbend
when sadness is feared
it tears at our liver
and heart
alas
been speared.

so make todays sadness
tommorrows yesterday
ya know
stick with the goddess
and let your aura
glow

Katya is here
to lighten your spleen
my crazy poems
are here for you to lean
on

ill bake you a cake
wont taste very good
but sadness wont happen
caused i burned him for good
he may strike me down
tommorrow with his muscles
but only if i let him
to fake out
a tussle

because all the battles
he might think he won
are lost in the everlasting
warmth
i feel in the sun

of you my friend who cares
enough to put down your hotdog
to key up this microlog
like an internet dog
hunting for this Kat
ya
because im worth the hunt
ill blow sunshine up your asses
and ladies up your cunt
see now thats not polite
and could fill one with sadness
if they thought about my mouth
all awash with soap and gagness
and that i would need
to be
so crass and disgusting
must make the virgins frown
from the bleach esophageal kings
they worship at home
taking all abuse
when they pass soda gas
and the king
lent an ear
then thrashed out
'no class!'
so they douched and they douched
all awhile smiling
but sadness i see him
hes not even hiding

because to be real
you gotta be worn out
to be real
you gotta get the realwords
out
even if they sound crass
like Katyas vernacular
coming around the corner
of the dogchase
spectacular

the shadow i wont run from
just the doggy dogs that i know
and shoot my rays of sunlight
up to the flow of Tao
wow
the goddess she is with me
i feel her coming over
i will open up my chakra
and let the lover love her
within me to without
part of my aura
no doubt

sadness just a memory
over which i scream
and shout!
my life
my life
my life!
in the
SUN

SHINE

7am and the city picks up

7AM AND THE CITY PICKS UP

The colombian brews up in all the moms. all the pops. all the scragey wooden boxes with names carved and burnt in the pantries. dried blood years old stains the wood darker than darkness. the damn kids who work these floors, button the old cash reggie buttons, deal with constant cobwebs cause its a sin to kill spiders here. ask the old man if you got questions. (you dont wanna ask the old man nothing!) 

The colombian drips its black molasses over yellow white teeths of the mashing local masses. every fuckin morning, y'all! 5am scrubbin the floors for 6am skillets firin for 630am stand tall for the regular steppin into the hall. between old sacks of basic shit and new ones. potatoes, flour, sugar, whatever the fuck! by the basics. buy american. fit in if ya can. dont and deserve what you got comin'. (maybe a big mouth of colloquial jam). 

Ya. its cruel out there. its real though, its really real. guess what? you gotta deal! we got clocks run outta time...hands groping for the light, time wont stop motherfucking moving. the toxins ull purify her, the river of the street. 

Was hard to even downtempo out of the colloquial expressed here and there and afore. hard to shut the door on it. the artist rendition was poor, sadly drawn out, she was bad at drawin' it. Maybe it was the fifth bombay, no more tonic. just gonna water her down, said the poorly conceived logic of this dirty down home skinny ripped jean locally loved chick. drunk and every guy became a prick. drunk but not yet sick. get ready she'll rip your heart out only to take a generous lick of your ticker, get the old bitch to quicker tick. that cool kinda hip synonymous with sick! Thats madre mad maddy. know her name, laddy. know her name if you know anythin at all!

 On the streets the homeless, friendless of course the gps locates maddy on a skid row corner at high noon working chore in glass cylinder. mad addicted sometimes! episodic! got shown up, really most of the days, all of the nights, mad madre she believed she was showing up, we believed, for someone to believe in, yes it was her. she inspired faith. goddess touched. maybe the eighth.

Well she saw us through lines endless before city agency doors. This citys dropouts would fill floors and floors. Then the lines saw mad maddy...this time shown up by metrosexual bluetooth blackberry boygirls blown up. Yup. Sorry to say, they took her stained glass away. Poor maddy, sad saddy. But she dont care, they can just stare, her world continues to spin, spin spun, the tales, the fun, anything we had not done she had us do, we had it done.

If only we had her still,  #8 child of light we say, cause if only would save lives. Pick up the streets, its a washout! Madre back in our lives, in our faces. Poverty of spirit, she erases. There by the federal building so many cops out in force, passive in their aggression, of course. Within seconds bust some dealer long overdue on the corner where the Hondurans claim territory. The Hondurans (that's another story). 

Yet all is not so clean, not so neat. Be afraid. Mothers flick cc's. Houses raided, feel the heat. Children learn street science early, sisters they wept -- they weep! Fathers look real strong or tried during shoots, for local papers. Later tied off and overdid it and died off. Uncut hit the street again like it does, like it did, like it always will, once in a while. 

Some just got along but truly hated, felt hate incoming, vented hate outgoing. Others no showed or showed and were hated. Doors were gated, communities walled off. Still others loved madly behind these walls. Madre herself got back there and fell in love with a junkie, sadly, became half-mad of her original madness, got numbed small by suffering and sadness. Only for a while, dont worry. Madre maddy is radical, shes fucking savvy. She knows how to dodge a bullet, a boyfriend fronting steel rims before weak game. Ill be the one rolling out on steel, maddy assured herself. Like bigger-than-life madre by little children, painting half their nails while they slept, they would sincerely miss the kind of presence and house she kept. He would make bitch his mantra. No telling how many times. Predictable, mundane, hiding behind the pain. 

Collect all the tears that you can, if you will. Please. So to offer toward healing of hearts. We need them! Remember all this shit happens for a reason, whether painful insane. We cannot measure it by days necessarily, but if we work together there may still be a chance. Maybe the sun made it possible?  while the wind blew right by. while the tide got influenced. Got forced.

You stood by my side. By choice, not by force. Colombian brewed all night. By itself i think? We have locked and loaded the coffee grind so long it has come into its own natural rhythm, brews itself and a goddamn good cup at that! Working overtime all night, maybe could use the human touch again. Observe. Experience the texture -- more like molasses or jellyfish extension to half your energy, sapped and unaware, might find yourself sitting half of every day, watching mindless TV foreplay on black grounds of roasted earth. 

Whole is not too much, rounded out, no doubt. Maddy madre reappears, realigns us from our fears. Fast! she races to one tree (up on hill). If you dont blink twice, you might see her through the window sill. What a goddamn gorgeous pole dancer, drop dead hot for romance. Culturally felt, honored, unified melt. Down her strong soft thighs a true natural tone she set so clear so dear so fresh young thrill! never marked for the kill. Too swift, mad maddy. savor (the flavor of murder). take a picture. you cannot capture her all of her. you must anyway, with your trademark call out. Hold it now, hold still, thatta girl... 

 To you we are devoted. 7am in the city.

KatYa

who do i think i am? (an exercise)

I am an empath. I am a mystic. I am Aquarian. I am stubborn. I am blunt. I am courageous.
I am g-fluid. I see most concepts on a continuum. I suffer from abandonment. I suffer from
attachment, enmeshment. I am a caretaker. I easily lose myself. I am a writer. I am a loner.
I am a bitch. I am a drama queen. I can be selfless. I can be selfish. I strive for the middle
path. I am Taoist. I face my shadow. I become fearful under stress. I become loyal when
I live from my heart. I am intellectual. My head is the most dangerous place for me to live.
I love all my friends to the extent that they are lovable. I dislike & scrutinize any judgments.
I am often misunderstood. I am not afraid to challenge your judgment of me, nor to shed
you from my life if you cannot relieve yourself of heavy judgment of me. Expect me not to
meet your expectations of me. I am a rebel. I strive for flexibility, and I will surprise you.
 I am a good listener. I am spiritual. I love life. I am not afraid to die. The soul never dies!
I will love you if you let me. I will be honest to the best of my ability. I will be curious and
expect the unexpected. I am prone to depression and anxiety. I am never a victim. I make
mistakes, and learn best by doing. I have degrees in literature, psychology and street science.
I will meet you where you are. I manifest right here right now. I find wholeness and fullness
by my presence in the very moment. I need my own private Idaho. Catharsis and alchemy
strengthen my spirit. Extremities can kill me, if i reside there too long. I can become hurtful
toward self and others. I can become lost. I have many many times been lost and suffered
out on some edge. Yet comfort & luxury put me to sleep. Hibernation. I live through carrying
out my purpose, which remains half unknown.

The mystery is in becoming...change is inevitable...fortune has favored me and so i am
grateful...when i work i work best when
allowed freedom to manifest.... i work hard and selflessly. those who know me know
of my compassion & loyalty, yet also of my unpredictability. I am terminally unique. Just
try and pin me down! I may be 2 steps ahead, existing in new paradigm. Maybe self-centered,
 hypersensitive, subtle sense of energy, transpersonal, blunt to the point of cruelty,
eloquent or slippery like a chameleon, or simple, simply complicated! you will find me
in the light. love and light to you. i offer white light of protection, as i have been so often
protected by many goddesses. i give what i have been given, for when i try and hold on
to anything too tight, i fall away from the light. self-sabotage burns my skin. i am full
and smiling, though i appear thin. see me and i will see you. here in the light.

coffee with the one & only cousin of death

I met with her , the cousin of death, for 5 days and nights.

photo by Katya 2010

and believe me. that was enough. you may not believe i am a writer (anymore)  by how i now write. believe me. its colloquial. contextual. individual. personal. all that you ever dreamed it might be if you could find your way into anothers heart. mind. spirit. soul. sounds juicy, doesn't it? well it might be. or i might just be raw and half-dead. having just had coffee. had tea. had my intersection with the cousin of death. sorry if it sound cold. more to be revealed... give me time. please. im exhausted. weary. travelled far. hardly made it. only the tears dripping down the window could stir me. could wake me. could shake me. remind me. well. the tears and the ten week old little sisters running circles round my bed. round my room. round my head. vrrooommmm!!

photo by katya 2010

and thanks. im glad you waited. hallow's eve? its my favorite night. 
we have survived! we are survivors. if that's the most i can say  to make it ok,
well then -- alright.

need u by my side...fragment I

 i was bad off....they thought i wasn't, but i was aware of it....i thought a long time about doing somethin' about it....then i tried ....i had to wait....watch reruns of the Outsiders....locate patience in my stressed, tired self....sit silently on my knees in front of the virgin mary and the Buddha on the sacred space in one corner of the living room... until i could feel life wasnt so hard....until i figured things out...until circumstance figured me out, ya, i guess sometimes the tide took me strong. but not without a fight.

 i had my r'aison d'etre...full presence through breath, posture, mantra, observation, non-judgment, affirmation.... YES.... various choices at any given moment... and no moment received without gratitude....no moment assumed, no moment a given. every moment i was breathing, every moment i was living.

i found myself often up against some damn ice cold resource department. the freezer.  i was bad off like i said. they demanded rigorous protocol....i could not keep from naturally drawing outside the lines...fucking the receptionist...fucking the receptionists boyfriend... soon i stopped working under such conditions... where others stumbled over words at water fountains in the early nineties air con cubicle societies...i did not want others to feel scared where they worked.

then i got a little lost. Confused in my mind...for days...and my aforementioned working relationship formally ended with a letter informing me of my 'termination'. this was a difficult word to receive. i cried alot. a lot. I cried so much that day. i was lost, ya. lost! 

the feeling became so emotional high tide, delicious after the confines of pseudo walls, plants and personas. my freedom i held dear,  my presence -- my manifold experiences as they presented themselves...this was nothing terminal, no --this was my commencement! i was bad off, yeah, but not like they said, not for their reasons. I was bad off to be there, in concentric circles. In protocol, demanded, for nebulous reasons. The black sheep is known wide, to weather all seasons. 

No more feelings of anxiety & worry & how to be, wu-wei. Feelings of gratitude towards life rolled me in waves --arose in the new space created. Then subsided. Feelings! May you continue on! The streets they are rough... yet look so polished,  end to end. Cold and unfeeling, these streets can be. For some children these sidewalks are warm enough for colored chalk and hopscotch. Jumping over jump ropes and empty bottles of scotch. For some these streets are home. The same city streets after dark they just change. Men walk with knives tied to ankles or wrists. Daylight brings women with shopping lists. Those who do know these streets know to walk slow, chin up. Check out the fresh tags. Stay out of reds and blues. Dress in black and white. Midtone grey. True to you. Let your eyes scan.  Hey, Here comes the dope man! Turn away, turn away, or just stay on course and walk forward. meet them all with fresh eyes. May truth be your mainstay; may compassion be your courage.

SOMA district. san francisco. 7am.

october. a sunday morning

Black leather
square heel
witch pumps
touch down

twenty ten. october
sunday morning

i got him
got us
simple
oatmeal

he got up
he gets me
its simple

 i
i got her
i thought so
i think so...
i wonder

held her 
heard her
 stayed close
with her

she
she got me
i thought so
she thinks so
she says so

 took me
held me
stayed rightby me

its hard
2 really
know

its hard when
we dont know

harder still
when we dont know
we dont know

to feel
ones own heart beating
may be
ones only comfort
these days


 i found
tabby marked
kitten sisters

4 sale
street corner

got lucky
for sure
i sure did!

now
watch them
wrestle out
all 8 weeks
of them
on
hardwood
sunday
floors

magazines
got style
fleur de lis
nail file

streaming radio
breaking news

somewhere
in
inside us
you & me
i see where
we cross
where we stream...

i see a child
HD video
streaming
still a blur

broken waves
strewn across
sand bars...

long forgotten
lost dreams


hey girl
hey guy
(u do know who u are)

do you wonder?
or wonder why?

the difference
is remarkable.
like a laugh is
to a cry

anyway
no worries
give them all a big big kiss!

in a
subtle
barely touched lips
really meaningful
kinda
way

 love U today
best i can
and pray
 you love you
too

any
every
if only
sunday
you may

hell
that aint all.

any
every
 lonely
  single
    day