Thick Skin

The skin I’m in

Is thick

And heavy.

It weighs me down



Flights of stairs are mountains

And hills make me burn.

I sit back and imagine

The yellow gloop

Coagulating beneath

The skin I’m in.

Clogging my heart

And veins.

Does the sugar dissolve in my blood stream?

Or is it still there?



Crystal like structures

Blocking the blood

That must flow.

The skin I’m in

Is thick

And heavy

But it does not save me

From the hate I feel

When I look in the mirror

When I attempt to pull

Fabric over

The hills and valleys

And softness

Of my hips.

I wish I could erase

The skin I’m in

And start again

And maybe

I’d be better

With a different skin.


Welcome Home

He has

Curly Jewish leg hair

Not like his

Straight dark hair

thin calves

but strong.

Curved buttocks

Thick, up to his smallish back


and smooth.

Olive skin

long nose

dark hair

dark eyes and lashes

so long

so thick

luxurious and luscious and lusty.

Your middle name shall be lust

and I’ll read the spaces between your letters

and tear you with my passion.

Rise for me

as the waves rise to the moon

I’ll be your lady of the night.

My pale round curves thrust up against your dark 

straight lines

as the curved, waning moon does press against

Her nightly lover;

the rich, foreign sky.


You are my man

be my lover

and let us proclaim our love

as the moon and night do:

With shameless abandon.


Reveal to me your passion,

man with the olive skin. 

Inconstant Man

Like the ebb and flow of rough water on fragile rock,
I am approached by Inconstant Man.

Growing and increasing,
we tackle the earth in a crushing bear hug,
squeezing our unforgiving morsels out of its green, giving life orb;
owing nothing, but lending all.

Lending all
because in some way
it will take it back.
We will want to take it back,
and nothing will be left but our memories,
Creeping and crawling through dank, dusty drawers
in our forsaken houses,
standing in burnt fields,
on an empty, estranged earth

which we sat on with our mind-numbingly dumb asses,
our shit spewing over and into crystalline rivers and brilliant forests.

Inconstant Man,
who once valued every grain of sand,
every molecule of supremely superior life,
Builds marring pockmarks upon the cherubic cheek of this planet.

We will fill the air and soil with our vomit
And claim we have
“done well” and
“changed lives” and
“lived successfully”.

But what is well, and changed, and lived
when what we leave is a small, stone-colored earth
in the midst of a universe of awe?

Our arrogant faces turn to numerous white bones,
Almost all the same besides our teeth,
but who will know when our dental records fade and fray with the rest of our civil society?

We are Inconstant Man and we consist of an inconsistency so inconceivably large, so insanely insatiable, that we are blind to our own inconstant
And that is the only thing that’s constant.


My Friend Andi



I’ve got to let you know

I think I let you in

I think I’ll introduce-

The wonderful,






That’s my friend Andi.

Strongest boy I know.

And if he had a vagina, well,

we’d have a serious Womance

Noun: ‘Describing a strong and vibrant friendship between two straight women.’



That’s us.

Me and Andi.


Different but completely the same

Through thick and thin

Through fear and blame

We’ve held each other;

Soothed fears and healed hearts


He still leaps

He still takes a giant step


Everytime someone pulls out his legs from underneath him






And if you have a question about Andi

Well I’m sure you could ask him;

But it’s be better to ask me.



That’s me and Andi.

Andi and I.

My bro.

My bud.

My could-be womance.

My friend Andi.


Three cheers for the boy!


That Guy Over There

That guy

Over there

Silly boy asks for poems

And so I write-

You won’t expect-


That guy

Over there

In the corner

On the street

On the couch

On the bed


Don’t know him

But I will try


Can’t understand everything

But I will try


He is mine; I am his

Pure truth in statements

Some searing path in a sigh-








Search and learn and maybe let go

I will hold on with the tips of my fingers

Near or far

Far or near

Here you are


In the corner

On the street

On the couch

On the bed

In my heart

Nestled deep


He is mine

You are mine

Are is will be-




The Color of Anger (Part 2)

It bursts through

Like an alien in my brain

You keep speaking

Keep on talking;

But my fists are curled

and my fingers digging into my palms

and I feel like I am ready to blow.

Back away now, please,

for the color of anger is filling the room,

like a pervasive gas

feeling all red and broken

feeling like glass tearing at our skins

do you know the color of anger?

How it brings pain to all those around it?

To all those who feel it?

Have you cornered anger,

the color,

the texture,

 the feel,

 in the corner of your dark mind.


is not as dark

as yours.

Oh no.

But you hide it well.

Your skin is the color of anger.


The Color of Anger (Part 1)

Dark heart beat
Bright eyes
Heavy breaths


Monsters inside us
Unleashing heaven’s fury

Coloring our souls in Lucifer’s name
Before he has fallen

The color of anger
Undesired and rebellious
Rising up against our minds

You know this color
No denial

We live in fear of our demons
This anger is frightening
This color is threatening

The color of anger

Over flowing

We struggle to the tops of these waters.
Do not drown! Do not fall to this temptation,
As we are pure

Beneath our no control
We are heaven
As it is

The color of anger