Thursday, February 22, 2001

dreamy winter days
trying to sleep but
no matter how warm my room is
my bed is cold, lonely, without
you
i plan to stay asleep until
its hot outside
and we can have endless days
surfing and road trips. .
our beds will always be sandy
and my hands wont be cold anymore
you can wake me up with kisses
. . poetry is in the possibilities . .
..carry kisses in my pocket..

[written on a tuesday]
"these are the things you think about
in Wyoming at 3am,"she said, and
all the while.. he stood there,
stacking stars
taking turns, twisting words
writting letters for her,
making people...
arms crossed like martyrs
legs made of stiff corners
moth--er
tapping tips of shoes
against walls,
bored by wire mobiles
spinning... centered.. safe
"where was i?," she said,
"oh, interdependence,"
and a chuckle..

Tuesday, February 20, 2001

what we are
is given.
handed down
over centuries
i am
n o t h i n g.
as are
y o u
nothing more
than a friends
hug;
passed on parents;
broken down
car
conversations;
and
starless nights
on
cape
cod.

letters written
but never sent,
someday to be opened
by strangers.


sitting here,
lonely


dreaming of you
in my arms.
wake up to darkness
and empty
blank walls
ive since moved back
home,
while you were away,
i just feel deeper
more and more
w/ every word.
(im starting a new career...rappin about killing people, esp. the slitting of throats)

i'll slit throats
and
break faces
running
thru yo hood,
best watch the fuck out
coz
im comin fo
yo ass
beeeyaaattchhh

*dedicated to all oppresors of life, and to those few people i hate*