The Willing and Suited Should All Be Saluted.

Do I intrigue you?
I see you staring from your seat
I see you hope our eyes would meet
But when they do, yours meet your feet
And every few days this sequence repeats
Our cheeks swell up with burning red heat
Because we know there's something in the air.

I bet you want to know what my tongue tastes like.
I bet you want to sliver your saliva down the pale horizons of my torso
I bet you want to rip me apart between the sheets of your small twin bed
I bet you want to dig your nails into my blushing red skin
Covered in passion and bathing in sin

I bet you've imagined every outline of my conservatively clothed body
Pressed up against yours with a force like the magnetic poles that signify the beginning and end of the world
Infinity. An infinite amount of space between our desks and our bodies but a lack of inhibition on the paths of our thoughts

I can feel you inside me, though you are a stranger.
The unfamiliar tingle of such familiar scruff along the delicacies of my frame
You maim, you maim
Man, you are tame
I want to scalp you and drill down to your brain
Your corpus collosam collapsing into my hand
Swivels and drivels of thoughts and desires
That you have kept secret
You liar, you liar
On fire. This floor is on fire
We've got to move.
We've got to dance to be free.


Keep your desk in the classroom
And your thoughts in your head
Where she can never find us
Or else we'd be dead
Keep your hand in plain sight
And me far out of reach
For such tender covenants
We never can breach

Cut the strings
Burn the fringe
Break me down
Turn me out
And out...and out.

I commend you for listening to this broadcast
Prepare to self destruct in three...two...now.

An Anesthesiologist Who Likes Aphrodisiacs.

Your hand, coarse and callous
like kindling that needs sanding
brushes me as you say "don't go"
in hushed tones of course,
no one else can know.
You always look away
as you beg me to stay
because the kinesthesiology
that eye contact brings
between us is too overpowering
for you to withstand.
With blanketed stares
and touching of hair
you melt me every time.
A pool am I,
collapsing to your floor
a fragment of what I was.
I gather in the middle
and you scoop me up -
suddenly your hands are
warm and soft.
They are now a reflection
of yourself.
You hide from those you love
with superfluous language
and outlandish ideas
you claim to be creative
yet you spew out your New York Times
while sipping your coffee
while smoking your pipe
while playing your music
Oh, original.
Do you even process
all the knowledge you absorb?
Or does it stay there just long enough
to be thrown into the wind
before you forget your statistics
and facts
and someone else's idea.
Oh, urban masterpiece,
your paint is running thin
The graffiti that masks you
is being covered with paint
the smell of which burns your nostrils
much unlike the drugs you intake
Oh, alcohol - a means of honesty
a means of shielding truth
a means of being you
unsheathed, uninhibited, pure
and loud.
You never shut up.
Just shut up.

The Morning After

Oh, flighty bedfellow,
How will we awake this morning?
Did we fight the night before?
I never know until the sun raises its sleepy head
And out from my plaid coccoon I emerge.
First steps out of bed.
The pressure of the cool wood floor fusing with my swollen feet
I'm sore.
The muscle and sinew on my back play tug of war
Little soldiers fighting for a brighter day
Crack! go my bones, a sound I've come to ignore
Just like the mundane hum of the fan that keeps me cool
Another flash. I'm warm.
An unexpected fever.
Vision escapes me as I seek out a chair
Dizzy. A feeling I've come to accept
Sometimes my head seems to disconnect from my neck
My whole body is bruised a fleshy pink
Absent to all eyes but my own
Unknown. I look like you.