Silly Me

My lullaby
is his favorite song.

Every night it is played and
every night into a deep slumber I fall,
only to be awakened by
the buzzing cicadas,
living but life-less trees, and
a licking dog.

His favorite song fills the room,
moves through my ears, and then
ricochets off my heart into my soul.
All this is done through his voice.

When he sings,
he sings with joy.
His joy brings me joy.
It is only then
we are connected.

I am lost.
I don't know how
or when I will be
in his heart.

When he speaks,
it is a common tongue.
Words passerbyers use.

He doesn't care
the way my
fantasy of him does.

(silence- Cicadas buzzing)

Silly me.
Silly me.
Silly me.
A 'silly us'
we will never be.

Cuïnty (short stories collection)

I knew I was gay the day I become a vegetarian. For some reason meat was no longer appealing to me; in actuality it became gross. I was 11 yrs. old.
I didn't tell anybody, not because of fear of being outcasted, but because I knew they would try to ruin who I am.
I don't know if I was born gay; I always liked what I liked regardless of who it was meant for. So when I started to act on my feelings, I wasn't doing it just because, I was just doing me.

Now let's go back. I realized I was gay at 11 yrs but I didn't act on it until I was 15 yrs old. In high school, it's easier to find where you belong than in middle school. By this time, I was a full blown vegetarian, on the track team with honor roll. I had a beautiful girlfriend and nobody really fucked with me because my family was crazy, like an Addams family crazy.
My life was good for the most part but one day at school, that changed when I smelled the most delicious thing: meat.

The smell hit me on hump day, a Wednesday morning as I was walking late to 2nd period. I was minding my business when I walked past the home economics room. Students usually skipped home ec so I was surprised to see a student who I've never seen before in class, cooking. When I walked inside to see if I could get a cookie from Mr. Hours, the home ec teacher, the smell of delicious, delightful, mouth watering meat infiltrated my nose. Usually the smell of meat made me want to throw up, it even suffocated me at times. But this time it was different. I wanted that thing in my mouth so bad. Without even thinking I reached into the plate. I could imagine the ultimate moment in which me and that meat would touch when I was stopped by a slap to my hand. I didn't even see the student standing there.

"Hey!! Stop!" said the student as he hit my hand.

Looking up, I saw looking at me a beautiful young man. With ginger hair, pale skin, and hazel green eyes. Ginger kids were not my style but he, he was sexy. Like a sexy ghost, like a sexy Casper when Casper was still in ghost form but sexier. I wanted him and I wanted his meat.

"Sorry but your meat smells so good."

"Excuse me?" said sexy Casper

"What's your name?"

"Casper." said sexy Casper

"Wow, that's crazy. In my head I was calling you sexy Casper."

"That's inappropriate" said sexy Casper

"How so, you are freaking hawt!"

"Thank you but I have to get back to cooking." said sexy Casper

He began walking away from me but I couldn't let this opportunity pass.

"Ok, I'm sorry. Let's start over. My name is Cuïnty but people call me  T for short."

"Have they ever called you cunt?" said sexy Casper

"Yeah but then I broke their nose. So now they don't do it anymore."

Watching him work on the second piece of meat I was mesmerized.
" So what are you making?"

"I'm just seasoning a steak."

"It smells good."

"Thanks."

He smiled at me with his beautiful lips and teeth. The only thing that kept me from reaching over to kiss him was my desire for his steak.

"Would you like to taste the first one I made." said sexy Casper

To excited to speak, the only thing I could do was nod my head.
He cut off a piece for me. Got another plate and put my piece on the second plate. He got a fork and knife for me and gave me my plate. He was what one would call a gentleman. I wasn't into "gentle" and I definitetly wasn't into "men" but he was different. He was someone I could get used to.
I usually eat with my hands but I couldn't imagine missing the full experience of this steak so I used the knife and fork.
When I put it in my mouth he watched me. Staring into his hazel-green eyes I just wanted him and his food. With our eyes locked, I put his meat into my mouth and I was off. It was so good. It ignited all my senses, some I didn't even know I could still use. I was lost in this meat. Making so many noises and motion of satisfaction. And as I was coming down from my high, something got me started again. Sexy Casper touched my hand.

"Was it really that good?" said sexy Casper

"Oh shit, sexy Casper! You are going to make me cum.
Please let go of me and don't talk."

He let go.
I sat there for a minute or two, trying to recuperate. He began attending to the second meat when I opened my eyes. He looked at me with a smile of approval. I just stared at him.

"Good?" said sexy Casper

I got up and walked over to him. I  did that movie thing that actors do right before they kiss someone, look into their eyes as if they are searching for something. Man! I was caught in the moment and I didn't care. He was so fucking sexy.
When I approached him and touched his chest my body was on fire again. I began kissing him like I was missing something I hadn't had in a long time. The best part about it besides him kissing back was that we were engulfed in the delicious smell of his meat.

"You are intense." said sexy Casper

I started unbuttoning his shirt. I wanted him so bad!

"What in Betty Crocker are you two doing?" said Mr. Hours

Like a hata magnet was pulling us apart we separated immediately when Mr. Hours walked in.

"We weren't doing anything." said sexy Casper

"Just cooking."

"Oh please! Cuïnty go to class."
"And Casper I thought I could trust you in here by yourself." said Mr. Hours.

"Oh shit! Class!"
" I gotta go! Nice to meet you sexy Casper."

I gathered up my stuff and ran to class. I carry extra tardy passes with me just in case something comes up. As I rushed into class and put my pass down, I sat next to my girlfriend.

"What the hell happened?" said  Zeta
"Why are you so late."

"I stopped by the home ec room."

"And did you get any?" said Zeta

"What?! Get what?"

"Any cookies girl!" said Zeta

"Oh, no. Mr. Hours didn't have any today."

She shrugged her shoulders.
I came in just in time for our pop quiz. Our teacher was passing out the test paper.

"T?" said Zeta
"Why do you smell like meat?"

"What? I don't smell like-

I began sniffing my shirt and immediately I was reminded of sexy Casper. The teacher walked by and told us to 'shh'.
I didn't want to say anything more so I just put finger to my lips in a quiet motion to Zeta. She shook her head like 'whatever.' As I was taking the quiz I began gnawing on my shirt...

Poverty

Poverty love is the most romantic.

He had nothing and because of 

that he gave his love.

For him this saying holds no truth,

“You are rich, yet you want to

be loved as if you are poor.”

For him, he was poor but loved as

if he knew no hunger;

as if he knew no poverty.

Countless hours, for days we were never granted,

were spent chatting.

Caressing the thought of time stopping and staying

for a day or two in each others arms.

Kissing away our doubts as the day 

came too quickly to an end;

As darkness quickly surrounded us.

I was reminded that he was poor.

That his love, molded by poverty came at a price.

Because for him to maintain the little

he has he must work;

He must earn in order to sustain.

But did I need his money?

No.

His money met nothing to me for his love 

was the sweetest I ever tasted.

The love of a poor man was 
indeed my greatest riches.

(inspired by the film “Queen of Hearts”)

Naked

They stand in the white room,
with bright lights,
with bright eyes.
His mind exposed and
her clothes off.

They look into each other.
Raw.
Just raw is how they are.

Words are pointless,
so they don't speak.

She walks up to him,
steadily.
Like a dementor, she breathes
his breathe.
Making him weak,
making him fall to his knees
for her.

Inches from her feet
he falls and yet
he still does not touch.

Almost discovered,
she jumps back.
He stands up.

He looks at her.
He truly looks at her.

He sees the marks on her body.
The imprint of the bra strap.
The prickly hair trying to grow back.
Her multicolored flesh.
The contours of her body.
The shape of her lips.
The movement of her hair.
Her desire to be touched,
yet his hands remain to himself.

They stand in front of each
other once more.

Their hands,
inches away from
each other's heart.

Ba-boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom!
They feel the pulsation.

Overwhelmed by the sinsation.

Eyes opened.
Hearts opened.
Their hands touch for a moment.

Their backs turned,
they walk away from each other
exposed.

The Greatest Love Story/ Worst Poem Ever

The Greatest Love Story
is a tale few people know,

because it involves a concept
people are reluctant to discuss,
death.

To love is to live but
while living you're also dying
and while dying you
are also living.

So to enjoy love
one must also have a
soft spot for death.

Are not the stories of
Romeo and Juliet, Jack and Rose,
Sam and Ann, Edward and Bella,
narratives that cause us to
wipe our tears and yearn
for someone to love and be loved by.

But are they not narratives
embedded in the tragedy
that is death?
Do these characters
not reflect loss?

They lost themselves
and in doing so gained
a love only a few
people know.

The Greatest Love Story
is a tale but a tale
worth telling.

Because to love is to live
and as one begins
to live they see no
fear in the loss.

Ambiguity

Never truly defined,
I stand in line.

Doubting my presence,
criticizing my essence,
slowly composing my message
as I wait.

Wait for those in my front
and my behind
to tell me I am
just a mime.

I mimic what they are
and never truly know me,
so I am always their
ambiguity.

They say I'm
neither here nor there.
Either this or that
and because of my indefiniteness,
in my box I will be forever
trapped.

But seeing that
there's more to me,
I step out of line and preach.

I preach to my future and my past
that today marks a new day
in which I begin to see
that I am no longer marked
by my uncertainty.

I say to them,
I finally know myself.
I know I am a preaching soul
with clipped wings.
That although content,
my heart still desires
material things.
That while a stranger,
I'm still part of the
in crowd.
And that although quiet,
my voice is still loud.

The line moved.
People staring as
I wait for their reply.

The only sound to be heard
with the shuffle were
deep sighs.

They said,
"Young blood, go back in
that line. Go stand
where you belong
because the words you
preach, is no man's
song.

You can 't change our
interpretation because
it is painted with obscurity,
so you will continue to
remain the chosen
ambiguity.

Now come to this window
with your card out and
let your indefiniteness
be marked.

And begin to understand that
you're in no man's land
and learn to embrace
your part."

Sadden by my failure
with the card in my hand,
I step outside to breathe.

Nothing surrounded  me
except
the swaying trees.
And so I looked up
for I needed to pray.

As I saw the blue sky,
my pain now prevalent
turnt my world an ugly grey.

The rain came hard,
making puddles
all around.
In moments,
I dropped my card
to the ground.

But not knowing
what's right for me,
I reach for my card
and in the puddles
I could see.

I could see my crown
staring back at me,
my doubt as well
as my uncertainty.

And as the rain continued,
now clouding my sight,
I sadly waved to my
ambiguity.

The Light

The fiery light

Dances in the glass.

The movements it

Illustrates is seen as crass.

The fiery light

Emanates from the wick

What it absorbs.

Its movement has

Now become a

Flick, flick, flick.

The fiery light

Has now achieved piece.

No longer it dances.

No longer it moves.

The light has found

Its rhythm in the night,

The light is

Now still.