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I like your eyes,
she said so
simply, and he laughed and
opened his umbrella.

It was filled with
holes because it
always rains in
Seattle; an acidic rain that
leaves its mark without
even trying or
caring.

Don't you get wet? she
asked.
He shook his head.
It's like lightning, he
told her, it never strikes
the same place and
I'm a lucky boy.
But this umbrella? It's not
so lucky.

He tossed it aside with a
smirk on his face.

Have you ever been
to New York
City? The buildings
are so
close and so tall they
should stop the rain,
she spoke quietly.

Yeah, he
said, I probably wouldn't
need my
umbrella.

He went around to
fountains and
storm drains to find
quarters to pay for the bus
fare to get
across the country.

She had a straw hat; it
didn't hide the
rain but it hid her
face and that was
good enough.

I'm kind of not sure why,
but I wanted to tell you that
even when you've gone away,
leaving me behind here, or maybe
I'm the one who will go away,
I will always keep you
with me in my pocket,
combining you with my songs,
my writing, my life.
As if I could really delete you
from my memory, snap, bang, like
that.
Thank you for everything, and I'm
letting you go if you need to,
but only because I have and do and
always will
love you and yours
whenever I see your picture
and hear your song.

Why are you
happy? I can hear
you Ask, or rather
I can't but I imagine
you would except
you Think I'm Happy
Anyway
and you don't know the half of it.
That's My fault, not
yours, so don't Worry.
I just don't tell you things.
Nothing to Worry about.

Ever had DARS chocolate?
Little tray of Cardboard
slides out of bitter Box.
I first had them from a Vending Machine
outside tokyo, in a bus station's
Concrete Face of smooth-poured Gray
and little silver Coins
clanged Delivery of
DARS.

Tastes like japan to me.
Tastes like Secrecy and
Smoke and Storm drains
like mazes under Streets.
Tastes like the Pinprick Stars
that are really Satellites
blinking past the
Gray Gray night-sky clouds.

Tastes like chocolate too.
Just Chocolate, no, chocolate
(no Capitals Here).
I eat eight and
tuck the box away.

My inner morphine addict
loves you.

She loves the
tenderness and the
smiles that you cause
and she loves the too
familiar rush
as her blood lifts
into a swirling abyss
of exhileration.

She loves the
calm that coats her
skin
when you're near her
and the way the moments
can last forever,
but are always over too
quick.

My inner addict
hates you
because she hates
withdrawl
and you never, ever
stay.

She wrote Questions to the Wind
who whispered Answers in her Hair
but by then she'd
stopped Listening.

On the terms of Dickinson
I'll try to write a poem
And though at times it seems I am
I'm really not alone

The shades of night surround us all
As darkness settles in
The monsters corner me once more
For I have done no sin

Lights flicker in the distance far
Lo, how far can it be?
However hard I seem to look
It echoes distantly

The cries of war, of love, of hate
Follow endlessly
There's no escape from them at all;
They live eternally

The skies bleed red, a color grand
As tears fall from the clouds
In triumph and defeat we stand
Through the screams so loud

Now drop the pen which you hold
The scratches made in ink
Close your eyes a final time;
Just forget to think

well once again my parents will not listen to me. I can tell they love my brother more then they love me. I guess you can call em jealous but I say I a m a teenage girl sick of pretending everything is wonderful when it is clearly not. M parents barely look at me and I don't talk to them. it's like I live alone in this place with people surroundign me but I don't really see them. they re a ghost with no sound. Wow! how confused I get. I don;t know what I can do.

Dramatic happenings
increase
all behind the scenes
more people are left crying,
yes,
and nothing's as it seems

You're never gonna
catch me now;
I'm already out of sight.
You'll never take me
back again;
I hurt too many times.
You don't want
to dream of me;
I only make you suffer.
You just don't
understand;
the meaning's meaningless.
And so I'll sit,
just motionless;
you're never coming back.

I'll try to keep this simple
To keep it to the point.
Forget about the foreplay
Forget about the show
I only think there's something
That you ought to know.
So here's a question,
Not a quiz,
No test like any other.
No fancy stuff,
Just poetry
Written for you
And not another.
Here's a thought
I've set to wonder:
Would it be alright with you
In any place inside your mind
Could you ever consider
The thought of being mine?

I can see
His hair
His height
His nice blue eyes
And all I'm
Worried about are lines.
If I wasn't where
I am right now
I wouldn't think
I'd just act
But I don't know how.

I've been hiding
my nature
for so long,
a facade
of strength,
of intelligence,
but now
I realize
the time has come
to face
just how
Craven
I am.

Three times today
He was in reach
Right there
And all I had to do
Was say
Six words
Six words to make
Him mine
Or six words
To hurt me more
But he was there
And I was afraid.
Of what?
Nothing
Everything
Him
Me
Us.