Capped R8

It was a quiet ride barred
from the constant odd hum the Japanese engine made.

I decided to break the ice and asked him if
the car was nice to drive and he told me it depended on
how I defined nice. Back to silence it was,
the night was still young and our hearts were still hungry.

An R8 whizzed by. We caught up and landed beside. A young boy in a cap.
My traveling companion might have thought, nice car.
I was thinking, where did he get the money from?

We were both young men trying to survive in a world inside our Grab car
and a world outside. Maybe we wished we were in the R8, or maybe not.
Must have been his parent’s car or money. That is far from satisfying for us.

Soon the journey came to an end. I took the lift up,
and he took another trip out.

The night was still young and our hearts were still hungry.

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Making Tiles With Scrambled Eggs

the night after our first fight you ran
away. from me and from your abandoned necklace
i saw our love fade away into the break of day,
mirroring the shattered fragments of my

life (and heart) as i knew it. you’re no good. for me.
is all that is left of our love – an echo. or maybe

not so much an echo: at least an echo is a reciprocation;
my calls for your love bears no return.

The Being of Anatomy

False happiness is standing at the top of the building amongst the clouds in your coffee
til your heart floats sweet like the sugar remnants at the bottom of the building.

Emotional emptiness is a space
that physical intimacy, no matter how frequent or close, simply cannot feel.

I can no longer tel the difference between the ground that I step on and the contracts that I sign off on: both are solid but they remain void of meaning and virtue. The rich gets richer and the poor, poorer.

I have folded shapes of crescent and full only to arrive at a poor imitation of you:
Shinji Moon.

 

An Exercise In Structural Disintegration

Such flawless skin:
Few women can inspire
The flow of my pen
In the way that you do;

I can trace out
The contours of your collarbone
As I feel my hand down your neck
Towards the side of your arm;

I am reminded of Everest:
The fairness of your skin resembles
The beauty of the snow caps
Basking in the warm radiance of the sun;

I feel a rush in me as I
Desire to reach
The peaks of excitement
With you and only you;

I feel my pen disintegrating
My stanzas not making sense
As my heart pounds harder and harder
Just looking at you
Sitting there alone touching
The back of your hair

And at the moment
Oh I wish that hand touching you
Was me!
Oh thy glorious skin!

As I struggle to catch my breath

In you: my universe is found.