One word: Grid

hardened corners, small squares filled with air. an endless maze of right angles that attempt to fill the void of space. a place for everything and everything in its place. but whose face in this space can place a smile on mine?

(this is my first attempt. be gentle :) )

oneword: grid

oh you splendidly sweet blocks of cold air and open space... waiting - begging me to fill you in with pencil-scribbled mistakes...

stage blocking that leaves clocks tick, tock- tocking... outlining time in smooth, cubicle lines... a marching band formation just waiting to be the climax of my geometrical masturbation...

marking spots with x's and dots... stacking up shapes like bricks layered in between superhero capes...

cold and empty, my graph paper pleasure box... pardon me... i've gotta go get my rocks off.

oneword: specific

How strange to move from those dance-floor grinds and daytime rewinds with friends to this specific moment when I look over at you and feel like I might actually have found everything I've wanted and fought for so long to find. I believe again.

oneword: believe

hand fried and deep picked i believe in that slow-mo d r i p,
d r i p,
d rrrrrrrrrrrr i p...

down the sides of ripe, red fruit and the inner thighs of tight leather boots.

wanna-be beatnik poetry pricks...

if i were a boy you'd be sucking on MY dick.

oneword: keypad

my fingers are like ghosts as they float over these keys. haunting what i used to love and who i used to be.

"too concerned with the worlds on the outside..." is he right? has the inside of me died? did i kill it just like he killed my love for him?

without water we do not grow. without practice we lose muscle memory. without activity we grow soft. lazy. boring.

oh these keys that used to bleed for me now only dance for facebook and online dating. i am embarrassed. i am ashamed. but i am not dead yet.

oneword: keypad

Looms before me; projects and inspirations await. It remains eternally patient until I get my ass in gear.

oneword: vulture

There is an ever present something hovering up above me, above us all. Hunched over, knobby, scaly, strange. Always searching for its "in," its opportunity to feed. It hangs there in limbo, looking for someone else's success, someone else's love, someone else's life. It is a cheater. It is hopelessness. It is the constant nagging that nothing is permanent, that if you don't take care and protect the life you're leading, it might be taken away from you forever.