bad bad man

When she dates a bad bad man
what do you say?
Apologize? No.
You're just saving grace
For a victim; a kind girl
she deserves so much better
her upright intelligence makes it hard to believe
that she could fall victim to such deceit
but the empiricals
numbers and shapes
follow a single formula
the function remains
what you put in is what you contain
But not for the science
of human connection
Complexities matching dreams and ideas
No two are manifested on the same kiln.
She loves him. Or does she?
Who am I to say.
I rely on my experiences
the relationships gone awry
But a girl I secretly admire
Deserves more than I can offer
Which is more than he can
But still
My envy translates to criticism
I appraise myself too highly
But I'm honest
I spare them the fate of my demise
A heartache undeserved
But some guys
Are not as merciful
They'll placate an artifice
to get their way
What they want is theirs
until they grow bored
and wash away
She's a big girl; she'll manage
She requires these straits
To grow into the fullest person she can be
But hopefully
It won't be too late
For me to ameliorate
only to be dismissed
When she meets another bad bad man

bite

bemuse my muse
wrap her in a tourniquet
limit the poison making it to my heart
YOU'RE AFRAID!
Agreed
But of what, I am uncertain.
Perhaps i should loosen the tension on this sleeve
Accept the poisonous alchemy.
Life becomes pellucid
When you share a bed with Mephistopheles

dog shit

It rained this morning. Had i been up to my usual habit, i wouldn't have known this. Rain stopped at 9:37am, or two hours before I wake up AT THE EARLIEST. I surveyed the dog poo mine field in my backyard. Eyesores with a putrid odor (i could only assume. cocaine had kept me up all night in exchange for sanity and my sense of smell). I thought about cleaning it up, but i visualized those little eyesores, mushy from the rain, turning into pudding in my hand; made by the indigenous canine of this terra. Flinch. I dropped the butt. I was so enamored by the little mounds of dog shit that I forgot why i came out here: to smoke a stogie. Now it punishes my negligence. If you play with fire, you get cancer. Assessing the damage to the satisfaction that i remained unmaimed, i just shook my hand, a reflexive impulse to singed fingertips, but also, in my own way, a gesticulation dismissing the meta appraisal of what I was doing. I just wanted to write last night. That's why i did the drugs. I haven't been able to write something genuine in eons. My life is just too boring...again. how do i know this? Because I have no good retort for "What's new?" I hate that question. More like filler. Yeah, that's just convo potpourri to uphold the didactic structure of conversation decorum. Place holders, ums, "well for me.."(another big turn off for a conversation; that other party dismissing everything you contributed to this artifice of a conversation to talk about themselves. typical. 21st century. with it, brah), what do you do? Dreck. That's why i don't go out which is why my life is bland, which is why i can't write, which is why this backyard is a reflection of my life. Staring at dog shit.