singing bowls vs. wartime jets

this is a love poem I wrote. hell, it's the only love poem I've ever written. it was written for Jennifer, the only girl I've ever let in.

puerto rico.

sun sets in your eyes,

and I can see them shine-

but I'd need a rowboat

to get to you.

That's it,
it's settled then.
I'll just follow whim.

(risking the bitter end
of a lone bitch at one
with feline kith as kin,

…stand guard, stand watch…

guard… watch…

" When insperation was served as a side salad for madness, when they were both parts of the same phenomenon before they split, like my internal voice, like the wooden chopsticks that leave spinters in my two dollar chow fun..."

whispering like i can't hear,
"he's not complying, 6cc's"
a needle in hand, a poison syringe
(paranoia drives me to the end:
thinking this is it, this is death)