Sunday, December 14, 2008


the floor was stickier than usual
the patrons crazier 
& rowdier
than i'd witnessed of late

the air was thick with fratboy cologne
and the stench of bulimia
there was groping
violence wafted overhead

add drunken beauty 
to that cocktail 
and there we were
wasted and happy

Friday, December 5, 2008


all the poetry 
got me the girl.
who turned out 
not to be real.

i thought 
she was young,
and wise beyond her years.
i thought 
i was old enough 
to know better.
i was wrong twice.

she was a pro.
while i - oppressed - 
had simple 
amateur status.

she was 
a death wish.
i was 
a trick.

this truth - her truth
was hidden by an
exterior swathed in knock-off linen
and tiffany-like c.z.s
intended for mere deception—
her natural state of being.

i couldn't see straight,
and that was on purpose.
she was
ready to pounce.
ready to asphyxiate.
ready to kill.

she taught me
venom is woman
and nothing more.