long pointed nails open an envelope… how can i stand on the shoulders of giants,when i can’t even reach their hands?how can i pass through the screaming silence,when i can’t even follow their plans? dante’s plaque warns to abandon hope… but i cannot stop climbing,though my hands are tired and worn,i will never cease seeking the heights that define meeven after my fingertips bleed to the bone and my thin skin is torn, a near-quaking voice calls out, mandating a reply… and I, just wait,because that is all it’s going to takefor all my problems and issues and illnesses to dissipate,for the daughters of nyx, life itself, and luck to…

Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one most traveled by And despite the people crowding around, There was room enough to watch and sigh And though the road was trodden black, With bad things that go bump and die Two roads diverged in a wood, And I took the one most traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

A was alone when he met Z He didn’t know what he wanted to B His future he didn’t C. A was lost and confused, Unable to find words to fuse, He couldn’t find any letters He felt like there was nothing behind him, Like there were no tethers. Then one day he and Z ended up talking Z thought A was a Q T A thought Z turned coy into cozy And it was the love story beyond the letters on a page. Z and A were star crossed. Then one day Z began to wonder Y Because A-Z is just not E-Z Even though Z and E would…

there were those who wanted you because they were thirsty. because each pore on your poor body oozed with a flavor that made their unpalatable and ignorant tongues ache with a longing not unlike that of Odysseus with his wrists bounds behind him on the mighty ship Argos as it teetered on the waves beside the siren’s isles. there were those who wanted you because they were hungry. because they imagined that the flesh of your arms and legs and hidden places were a five course meal, with a Michelin star stapled to the forehead of the chief and meats and pies and desserts plentiful on every pungent plate with…

i’m proud of the person that i am pretending to be i didn’t want to admit it, see, because sadness, no matter how fleeting is better than not feeling at all. but pride seems harmless in the face of genuine happiness. and i’m lying alone in my room all i can see is the joy in the gloom. well, i confess the monsters don’t scare me anymore ever since i joined them on the floor. if you lay with dogs they say you’ll wake with fleas the next day Well i lay with creatures of the night and i haven’t yet wanted to wake from the fright.

I am not in love. But I have love in my life. I might not have tender arms wrapped around my waist. But I have the feeling of refilling my pen, I have arguments with kind conversationalists, I have the turning of the last page in a book, I have my grandmother’s laugh, my mother’s handwriting and my father’s cologne. I might not have soft lips pressed gently against mine. I might not have stolen glances, sweaty hand holds and fairy tale drama. I might not have the passionate amazing crazy Sunny-D kind of sensual love I like to pretend I can write about. But I have love. Pure love,…