even if i never have sex again,

poetry

and it’s all your fault,
i won’t hold it against you,
and i’ll still love you
because it was not your fault
but only natural
to come between us
to separate us
to keep us apart
whether we wanted to be
or not;
and you have your needs,
and i have mine
and nothing,
nothing i say,
nothing you do
is going to change that;
so we’ll go on this way:
never looking back;
never turning aside;
never regretting;
never having sex again.

i love women too much

poetry

there are electric storms
birthed by chemical wars
that are caused by electric storms
birthed by the very same wars
and so on,
and so forth,
they come from my eyes
when i see your lips,
face,
legs,
thighs,
emotions which
can
not
be
wise
are now driving my extremities
i now feel i’m in my seventies
looking out the window dreaming
of being touched somewhere
inappropriate for once
because i
love
women
too
much.

spring heat burning

poetry

it is spring and i want so many things
things that are gothic at the store
or your asian friend
things i must say in code,
things i must talk around,
things touring italy and france
the ones who wear the tank tops
and the short shorts
the things who wear the horizontal
stripes and the thick rimmed
glasses or the ones who play
drums,
or speak czech or russian
or german or…french
i want to take them and inject
them into my veins,
i want them to reciprocate
in the backseat of a honda
accord
oh! i want so many things
for it is spring;
my life is rejuvinating and i need
all of these things to fill
the increasing void in the
pit of my stomach,
while the thought
of what my life would be is
eating away at it.