Tuesday, June 28, 2016


My soul,
It dwells on the feathers of the birds,
And nests with them.

When they sing,
My soul sings,
But when they fly
My soul stays in this nest,
Comfortable where it rests,
Waiting for their return.

Then I wonder:
When will I finally go,
When will I finally burn
This heavy weight
To which I'm cuffed? 

Sunday, June 19, 2016


You meant nothing to him - just a point on a crossroad,
A place where he stopped for a drink
And a pee, and a sandwich,
You meant less than the weed along the street,
And his tires left their marks on your sand,
And now he goes back to his land.

You were merely quick satisfaction,
And you're the kind he'd never choose,
A bottle of bad-quality booze,
Just an interSEXion.

Thursday, June 2, 2016


Let them think they're smart,
Let them say I'm dumb;
It makes no difference to me:
They won't be at my tomb!