The picture of the two of them so young
in a place they’ve since forgotten
still makes sense even though there is something missing from his blood
and we have to clean our hands every time we touch the spoons.
When a story in the paper is contained in a living room
with cats under the table and cherries in a blue bowl,
it’s easy to smile about other things
and wear bright sweaters

so this is it, this is what it'll be
we'll be friends, and you'll come to me
when you need to be grounded

but baby i dream about you at night
your kisses of sweet tabasco
lips and lines of molten fire
burning in my veins

and this is where it ends, this is it all
we'll be friends, and i'll ache inside
everytime you mention HIM

but baby i dream about you at night

Apearently when things get rough
you like to turn your back and run
You've left me here all alone
To fend for myself without you

Do you just leave when it's too tough
Run away from all of your problems
Do you just leave when it's too tough
Leave everyone who cares behind

Apearently we didn't matter enough
At least not enough to keep you here

Watching through the glass what she cannot have
Afraid she ruins everything she touches
She just craves someones love and trust with no demand

She prays for love at first bite
Hoping for someone to save her soul
Wishing that this could be the one
She prays for love at first bite

She's looking through the distance at what she cannot touch
Hoping she is not the monster she feels she is

White lines, dangerous curves, and all that toys with your nerves
Snapping cameras, strobe lights everything flashing in your mind

It's just another game that she plays
Just another tool used to manipulate
Just a stragety to keep you on your toes

All the things that she does
Are to keep you wrapped around her finger (x2)

Sleekly elegant and so smooth are used to, to blackmail you

After dinner with my mother’s rice and chicken sitting uncomfortably in my stomach like a rock I excuse myself and head outside.

The mid-November air stings what is exposed on my body, in this case my hands and face as I shut the backdoor. I am alone.

An ancient and imperial institution falls
But from there we begin anew

Like to the lark at break of day arising
The voice of one cries out in the wilderness
And a phoenix arises from the ashes
Be embraced, you millions!
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
Put your queer shoulders to the wheel!

As I look outside through my living room window I see a pot full of bright yellow chrysanthemums vivid against the icy chill of the dead November afternoon
The leaves have fallen from their trees, leaving stark naked fingers of bark encrusted wood prying out through the early winter air

I too am the world
I sing the song sung by millions of others
I dance the dance they have danced
I am of the love that dares not speak its name

But,

I sing its name out
Clearly, forcefully
I sing it in the face of aggression
I sing it through spit and rocks
I sing it at home and outside
I sing it in my bed

I love and am loved

I belong and am possessed

i want to kiss you tonight like never before
want to take you in my arms and hold you
but instead i open the door
and watch you go
out with someone else

and so i sit, here by myself
writing a poem you'll never read
with a half-broken heart
and a shoulder to cry on
but all i want is you

and it's stupid, i tell myself
cause i really don't
want you all that much

this is a love poem for the girl i cannot have
for you who brought me flowers and held me close
and taught me how to love
this is a love poem i'll never say for you

this is a love song, the kind that's never sung
it's written across my heart
the words are twined in my soul like twisted vines
this is the love song i never got to sing to you

this is a single red rose

When you’re gone
They’re still fighting with their bullets
Until another inch is stolen,
Stay.
With the peal of the radio
Telling us who’s winning.
And the crowd is silent -
But they’re screaming in your head.

So they say that they see
The endearing mental illness
Of the direction.
Still, they fall, still they die,
They are dying.
And the crowd is fighting -

i want to write
the story of
a hundred thousand lives
to think and live and be
a dozen different people
or maybe more

a baker, a sewer, a chef, a surgeon
a cop, a singer, a writer, a thief

there's not time enough to be
i want to live as someone for 28 years
then go back
and do it all again

an astornaut, a teacher, a father, an actor
a photographer, a ranger, a poet, a reporter

So, this is a poem that I wrote a few months ago...but I havent been on oasis in forever, so I'm only just posting it. I'd love to know what y'all think...and if there's anyone else who gets what I'm talking about.

Sex: Female
Gender: Male
(Read Between the Lines)

the sex of a thing is defined
by it's physical genitalia: male or female
gender is an individual's

First your jacket.
More like a flowing dress it brushed your ankles
amazing me that I could feel the softness from so far away.
Then the footsteps:
that a living soul was inside the sketch of you.
At last the iridescent freckles sprinkled, glittering,
on the curve of your face under your eyes
whose color I could not quite catch.