Libra

Like the swirling cocoa in his coffee,
his laughter rolls in warm and thick,
his saccharine soul it coats my weary lips,
Or at the very least it coats my weary dick,

Two hits of him and sure enough I'm addicted to his touch,
And when leaving I'm left craving a fix of other parts,
A reincarnate Libra acting out his ancient role,
He's Anubis with the scales to judge the weight of guilty hearts,

He exists in equilibrium of the body and the mind,
And all the eyes I've been lost in were never quite that blue,
Like the jewel-dust paint of Egypt- they shine deep ultramarine,
The shoals and shores of an Azure sea with men left trembling at the view,

What could I bring to such a man that reeks and tastes of God?
Can I suppress my innate urge to drown him in despair?
How could I ever satisfy the urges of a saint?
The house of water ruptured by the lofty house of air.

you will never be the one she seeks out
at 5am, bleary eyed in the harsh glare of her phone
eager to listen, eager to be heard

I'm still waiting for a night
where I'm not afraid to go to sleep
where waking up won't mean staunching the pain
where it doesn't take a feat of strength just to live with myself
for having not been good enough for you

It's hard to do anything
when everything I've ever done
was to spend the evening in discourse
reporting even the most mundane to the starlight burning in his eyes

Don't you see it doesn't matter?
My hope to submerge,
To keep you in the depths of my love,
Is just a lust- just an urge,
Equally sated by drowning myself in despair.

Advanced Directive

Despite the slight foreshadowing,
Please don't put me in the ground,
Please don't leave me there in such a place,
Where the wind will never touch my face,
Where there'll never be a sound,

I'd rather face my fear of flames,
Than to rest my cells in silk,
Retain some pieces if you need,
But spread the rest like flower seed,
Or mixed in rain-an ashen milk,

I won't feel it there in heaven,
Of course I may feel it from hell,
But to be there I'd feel it anyway,
Until that Revelation day,
When I am slain in carnal shell. 

His

You should've known me when I was great,
When I woke up to face each day,
The whispers of the darkness rolled away,
Cast aside without hesitation,

If you had met me when I was his,
When purpose was given to this existence,
When I had my reason to endure this pain,
Sleeping sweetly above the sounds of deterioration,

I wish you could see my charming glow,
The kind that now I only distantly recall,
Catalyzed, metamorphosed by love,
Shining just as bright as death's ablation

Greg

I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,
Your capacity to grasp this depth perhaps caught me off guard,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

Your fingers smell of soil, the verdant life that heals the blight,
But the fat and flesh of fingers will be rendered scorched and charred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,

I no longer doubt your prowess, a surprising show of might,
Except you smell of ripened-berry love, not of something raw and marred,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

No question of intention; your morals are plenty right,
Underneath your chainmail armor- I feel the skin upon you scarred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,

How strange that gift adorning you has not brought you deeper sight,
Or do you fear of going there and returning mocked and tarred?
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

Don't take this sheer dismissal of my loss of urge to fight,
My eyes once shone like yours' my boy, my heart was once as starred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of  night.

If all you see is the drugs,
you are willfully blind,
choosing to forget the time before them,
basking in the dopamine rush of your love,
the withdrawal of which facilitated my withdrawal,
and a desperate hope to emulate the experience,
that I'll never have again.

Cinco de Mayo

No one was there,
And memories flooded in of you,
The anniversary of such a happy affair,
No one picked up their phones,
As my breathing grew shallow and my muscles seized,
Message Read, Received On, Seen,
As I curled into a ball under my desk,
And screamed into my trembling hands

Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt,
Give not thy butter, thy tears, or thy flames,
Unless you know of their weakness; iron scissors and names,
Nary thee give away sparks to thy tallow,
The sweat of thy brow- the blood of thy marrow,

Because the fishes and fairies will promise you wings,
A chance to belong amongst those mystical things,
The warm waters that cleanse you are becoming a broth,
The weight you feel lifted is fat foaming to froth,

Clear out your debts, be sure that they're paid,
Lest your hot water bath be your last marinade,
The ocean that calls them is only salting your skin,
While they season your outsides they pretend to be looking within,

Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt.