I can clearly see
where it is
you’re coming from.
You’re my one true hero
not some bitter man
that can’t let go.
I love when unspoken words
are truly left unopened.
I can’t wait to be picked back up,
so I can rest in your hands.
I close my eyes and wish on you, love.
Asking seems not to matter
I don’t mind being a fool
the others say you’re not coming.
I know how far I’d go
following you from town to town
asking anyone who will listen
if they’ve seen my hero.
You are my pretty man,
I might be asking for a miracle
please say you’ll come home
I can hear footsteps,
but even if,
I can’t tell if you’re approaching,
or leaving me again
I’ll stay right here.
It makes no difference
because heroes never chose
where they’re wanted most.
I can feel the power in hands,
this place next to me, extended
I’m taken, for now anyways.
I’ll be the better man
and be your hero
for a little while longer anyways,
until you find your footing
and become my hero again.
I can clearly see
Tonight the skies went quiet,
pandemic’s grasp came swiftly
my friend died today
a victim to Covid.19.
For the first real time,
sits at my doorstep.
Uncomfortable cannot describe
this feeling of unsettled panic
like there’s still more
of a score to settle.
“Want not, waste not.”
something my friend would say,
perhaps my dose of reality.
Down on worshiping fists
prayers have gone unanswered
but still, I have one request
please don’t take his grieving widow
diagnosed as well.
She has a chance to recover
allow her to celebrate his life.
we were strangers, Covid19
you and your swift moving grasp
taking whomever you wish.
Everything happens by chance or reason
neither of them ever cared about you,
about a mask or protection.
If today marks our new horizon,
a world that’s now turned upside down
I am here to accept your challenge.
yes, we took the first painful blow,
eventually, we will be on top
our skin will take on a bronzed glow.
The healthy will fight this battle
some will ask, why them?
After years of this seasonal damage
only then can we answer
who actually won this battle.
I’m afraid in the end though
both sides will grieve
for their losses.
Rest in peace Ben
know that you are loved.
With a thousand blinks and sighs
Violet hid quietly from the world.
And up until her words needed life
she was perfectly content in knowing
she loved with everything
never leaving things for chance.
Against the usual misunderstandings
she was more than tangled inside
living with a half-broken heart
Violet was denied the truth.
With a set of heavy lies
her love was excused
no longer cherished by her one.
Violet, had in fact,
had no business expecting
that everything she was ready to give
was somehow going to be returned.
Violet was replaced instead
by something that never truly mattered,
she was left holding handfuls of regret.
Betrayed by a darkened moon-less night
Violet held her knees to her chest
and waited for the bath water
to fill her bathroom with noise
so she could finally cry it out.
For months now,
Violet takes late night baths,
in that tiny bathroom of hers
so she can keep all her pretty secrets
perfectly guarded for now.
I wish to sip from that cup
guarded there in your hands.
I promise I’ll devote every inch
and drink every ounce.
I swear I’ll put eyes on top of eyes,
so stare if you must,
just as long as this last hour
is exclusively ours.
I simply want to lay in your arms,
against your chest, your breath
and the closer I get to the edge
you hold me even tighter still.
I go uninterrupted into the night.
You wait until everything has gone still
the room flooded with jagged light
there is something about your perfume
each inhale in our flower garden
the hours we spent on the lessons
with you and your beloved thorn,
still, your stubbornness wins
keeping me comfortable and warm
here as I begin to slip.
The choice is between
the written or spoken words
from the person I’m most in love with,
and yes, some can’t comprehend the importance
however, I suggest you take a moment
and thoroughly explore them.
Oh to tell a story with exaggerated expressions
arms move and sway with action,
there to simply reinforce intentions.
We belly laugh with anticipation
what was and what’s lost
are both found when we talk.
Now to the fun
lying in bed with our travel voices
pretending the voices in our heads
are what the author had intended.
To read our favorite book aloud
taking turns while thumbing through pages.
The climax comes crashing
just as the secrets are revealed.
True love still conquers all
or so says “The Time Traveler’s Wife.”
I can still see every expression you made, and yet,
there are some who refuse to read.
This life has been too profound
balancing in between
the schematic written words,
while some prefer,
the oral tradition in stories
passed down for centuries.
To suggest I am paralyzed by this late hour
does not mean I won’t read to you
quite on the contrary indeed,
in fact, I’ll mix both
the written and spoken words alike.
I’ve asked, almost prayed I guess
for someone to please
come and decipher my favorite book.
She loves me, or so she says
she just doesn’t have enough time
I can still count the number instances
where she swears and confesses
she loves me a million more times.
Those words have worn their welcome out.
I suppose I’ll go and read a book to myself
at least in there it’s predictable, after all,
all amazing written works of art
eventually come to that part
where we slow savoring every word
so that in the end whether told or read
we ache for another to start.
I can clearly taste
the exact places you’ve been,
because in my eyes,
unlike all the rest
those traveled places
become the cherished little gifts.
Stripped for me
you stand in your place
ready to let me feed
your wrist, the first offering.
I trace until your eyes fall backwards
and in this nothingness
of a thankful holiday
those seated closely around the table
have no true idea
the secrets you keep.
That very best side of you
hides and shields the dark,
that blessed side in you
no one wants to admit,
I swear it’s your glamour guide
that gets whatever she wants.
The precious spoiled child
forever and always
perfectly content and happy
for just a while at least.
I’m the one buying mirrors
to feed your narcissistic side
properly pampered and nourished
you and your insatiable diet.
After all, your best outfits
come alive, when all the all the eyes
want a piece of you.
to have the words of a poet
inched up super close
whispering the exact commands
to be followed.
My pretty companion,
only One needs to understand
the code written in here.
Kneel and decipher please
these thoughtful messages
spread out all over
Tripping over the last time
I felt you loved me,
the neon glow inside
doesn’t quite work
how it used to when
your quiet footfalls
walked alongside me.
I don’t mind if we
could be like
how we used to be.
There’s something safe about
knowing what I don’t.
I turn to see if it’s true and real
you spinning a room
in dizzying circles.
All over and around me
I fall backwards,
to your bed that has always caught me.
for the first real time tonight
my place is not next to you and yours.
I turn to the one quiet place,
that little nearby church
with the well traveled steps.
I hope you’re happy now
I’m here to confess
I’m a perfect stranger to you.
Bless me if
it’s been a while since
I’ve been in this place
confessing to the truth
that lies inside me now.
The irony here
I swear I’ve never felt this other way,
the upside down pushed away
size of it all.
I have to believe
that holding sorrows hand
is the best thing for now.
The inspiration was never too far away
from yesterday and forward
I swore I would take each day
pretending it was some cherished gift.
Spend time with me,
so we can illustrate love
behind the backs of everyone
while they pray in church.
Oh my goodness,
you’re prettier than I ever imagined,
the pictures you sent
didn’t show this other side.
Your handsome half-glance
looking back at me
it’s easy to understand why
I fell forward and on top of you.
We can street talk if you want
whisper to the backs of hands
right alongside all the others
they’ll find something else to look at.
The taste of your perfume
a new trigger for sure.
I swear you’re different
when I look inside
the places you’ve mentioned,
oh those darker traveled places
I simply want to hand hold
and nervously play the part.
I know you’re out there wanting
searching just in case
you’re too far away to be heard.
Listen to the excitement in my voice,
understand I’m over the moon
searching for the path you took
to disappear and float the truth.
I can remember still,
the very way your tapping kisses felt
softly covering every inch.
I’m finally free
stronger than I’ve ever felt
my faith is gathering momentum
down on broken knees to palms
love is spilling out
ruining your already swept floor.
I’m praying for night to come soon,
so that tomorrow
you’ll have found your way
right back inside
deep under the covers.
Her eyes awash in this particular shadow
she narrowed her focused
it was the warmest of warm.
Her fingers centered and cupped perfectly
one could seemingly drink forever
and it went on like this for hours.
To be hand picked or chosen
it felt amazing to be her prized possession
to give without permission, she said.
The very essence of her control
did not matter,
just as long as the drug continued
there was no depth
one wouldn’t go.
With all the right questions
I thought of asking
I was arranged and managed
by the plight of the narcissistic reaction
it appears, there was one such question
I forgot to ask,
could you love more than just yourself?
This contemptible act
I was falling from favor
her hands would no longer
be capable of cupping water.
Thirst if you wish, you pathetic fool
her once open palms
now fists for reactions.
In a lowly half-broken voice
she mouthed her answer.
The mood matched by my demeanor
I could tell the end was near
perhaps by design
or some stroke of magic
the girl softly kissed the moment
and let go.
Left over words
Hindsight and her golden reaction
to be brought forward for her inspection,
and just as I stepped forward
she wanted a little more.
With no patience
her voice demanded,
my attention was exclusively hers.
From time to time
she’d stop and question
expecting the answers to change.
Still, as the night pushed forward
all I ever wanted
was the simplicity of hand holding.
I can’t say when I fell for her,
the wait between the time with her
started to weigh more and more.
Somehow I knew
I’d be her immortal love for sure
Against these words she swore
The forever bond
has been properly sealed
leftover are the feelings
I have for her.
Coming from my sacred place
I know how my mind works
and quite honestly
I can easily claim
I wish I never knew what to say.
Clearly I can go back
and remember a time
when her fame
was all that ever mattered.
I can remember the taste,
the joy we felt,
devouring the hours hungrily.
The girl had her faults and charms
to me she was as perfect as anyone.
What difference had it meant
even I clearly knew
this girl wasn’t strictly mine.
was the girl’s critical flaw
she gave much too much of herself.
It was almost as if
she wasn’t allowed to love.
I wasn’t better than
or hold a stronger hand
the problem I had
with this girl I loved
she couldn’t care
who was who.
She would meet them there
and bring them here
to have them quickly
fall in line.
A cog in a chain,
as the list quickly grew
disgust had a new life.
It never truly mattered
being the most beautiful one
beauty was never denied.
So as I sit here now
and profusely claim
She was the first
if ever there was.
(Left Over Thoughts)
the more I shared
she lay imbedded now
in thoughts of guilt and distrust.
The girl I knew
has been gone for years
next to me
her ghost clearly stands.
I can see the lines in her face
her complexion has grown
she’s tired now
afraid to be left on her own.
Tell me to stop writing
I’m pretty sure I can’t
just move on and go.
You’re out of my grasp
sure, I’m reminded I should let it slip
it was something you said
there’s no one better than you
to love me in this lifetime.
Change is an honest friend
my reminder time moves,
just every now and then
you come with slow hands
the flood of light blinds.
There are easier ways I’m sure
to get safely under the bright sun.
Yesterday was a start
asked to spend time,
I won’t move too fast or too slow.
The temperamental softer side
touches and plays with loss
yesterday was easy to say goodbye.
Today against 4 equal promises
voices tempt to tell me otherwise,
the whole hole you left inside
it was no surprise my optimism was fooled.
All emotions have been buried and covered up
still, the soil is swept clean
exposing these sensitive words
a son losing his mother to cancer.
I can already tell just how much quieter
that big kitchen of hers will sound
in the deafening silence
everyone is standing around.
The void is still as big and wide
as the day she left
ordinary or otherwise
November is here again
to celebrate her life.
Happy Birthday Mom.
There in the sunlight
playful things begin
a pressed mouth plays for me.
And from the start of things
everything has always worked out,
I know I have a few hours still
until everything gets too heavy and dark.
She’s always easy,
she shares her web with me,
from the corner of her window
to the forsaken latch on her door.
I have no other real choice,
but to offer myself up to her
the pleasure comes in waves.
She gathers herself
atop her favorite place,
she shifts and uses the dark
to profess her favorite words to me.
To think aloud about such things,
wouldn’t be appropriate
she moves and insists
we stand for the rest of this
there on tiptoes
she balances and pushes back into me,
on this, her hallowed eve.
With eyes lit up and on alert
the night was awash in a storm
I needed to stand by her.
Circles touch and play
with her half busy look,
just as the seasons are about to change
the girl suspends her love for now.
The flood rush can wait for now
from yesterday until tomorrow turns
we swore we’d never leave.
Tonight we’ll play and pretend
we’re letting the sky and leaves settle
down on broken knees to palms
we take handfuls of each other
and smother that scent on open palms.
This, the heavy night we lay under
waiting on the outside temperatures
to settle and calm down.
From nowhere the question was begged,
she stood there hiding her secret,
stunned with her time away
hands reach and touch the spot
eyes are buried inside each other
we look and stare as if
this will be our forever season
here at last.
Star drunk lover
go ahead and cast your spell
on the eve of another night
let the heavy love-like breathing start.
I can already tell
it’s going to be easy
spending these 10,000 hours alongside you.
I hope you won’t mind if
I sing the songs I keep under my bed
it’s fair to suggest
I could very easily
act like some romantic fool
and creep inside your head
writing poetry all night.
We go out and eat like
it’s some kind of taste test
small samples, then we fill out the sheet
I pass my wallet and bill to you
you’re better at that tipping math than me.
You reach and put your hands
deep inside my pockets
we walk like this for hours.
I know I’m too tall for you
to actually come and whisper
the words that are all trapped in,
you’re dying to get inside,
you shout how much you love
the funny thing is or was
yesterday, I was buried underneath
it’s impossible to know right now
why you’re giving so much,
still, we walk hand in hand
searching for a safe place
She craved the sensitive words
wanting that infectious tight grip
taking her to an edge
tiptoeing trying to keep up.
The stinging kisses left their mark
and none of her friends
could ever truly understood.
The truth in leather I suppose,
this particular girl liked being spanked,
it was her delightful pleasure source.
The one and exacting rule
she had to be properly behaved,
the spankings came from playful love.
If this was the shocking thrill of it all
her tiny waves properly flooded the room,
and she’s the cautious type,
to just give this pleasure away.
The “Connectedness” is binds us
and in our way we explore
the tight rope side of love.
Disguise how you feel inside,
she used to say,
sometimes what was meant to be
can end up making you very happy.
With happiness aside,
her perfectly curved bottom
really felt good in the hand.
I can’t deny the rush
that flat palmed smack made.
The tightening grip around my…
A natural excitement in just thinking
and I want to nudge her awake now
let the hours begin to turn.
Listening to words in my ear pods
it doesn’t make a difference
how quiet the room has fallen.
The ache of wanting her
wanting me, I nudge and whisper
she rolls and says,
“Please Sir as You wish.”
With more and more I suppose
we’ve started to collect and gather
our unique and divine love~trinkets.
In our late night hour jaunts
our busy hands are magnetized
touching and hiding in places
we probably don’t belong, but still
I’d rather be in this place
alongside the girl with the heavy eyes.
I never have to worry about change,
each and every night is the same
out alongside my traveling companion.
I love watching the warm wind
play and pull at your hair
exposing the want from eyes.
Love inside love,
that gentle tipping point
pushes and shoves the mood
we have no other real choice,
but to pull over and attend our need.
By the night’s pretty end
we empty our pockets
starting from the front door
leading back to that little table
by your side of the bed.
The floor is dutifully littered
we’re sure to be careful
come each morning
we can’t wait
to start all over
gathering love’s trinkets.
Words sit strangled,
choked by two sets of thoughts,
here she sits separate, but equal.
Some words come from us,
our handsome stranger,
unwavering in truth and kindness
unless there is a lie
that needs to be told.
We give perhaps
more than what was initially bargained.
There is this whole other side,
where she turns into something
all together unbelievable
and it’s pretty to watch I suppose.
In a sense she is desired
having been blessed with her looks.
It’s a dangerous game to behold
heads turn when she arrives or exits,
it’s hard to keep attention focused.
One initially feels lucky,
having held this amazing prize,
people are not our possessions
to be counted and stacked in a line.
Just as equally and
just as blindly
this seemingly perfectly balanced girl,
can turn into something,
sometimes it’s hard to watch
the world spin around her,
still though, she has no idea
just how much I love her.
Unapologetic music plays ever so sweetly,
while the weight of yesterday turns
we made out and did other things.
From across the bedroom
two very proper arrows
stuck and found their perfect mark.
Still, we insist on taking turns
trying not to flinch or turn,
the sweat on our bodies is pretty.
The want plays and touches the mood
and just as the desire builds
you introduce a third person.
Standing almost too closely
you bring your mouth to his
watching for a reaction,
with a twisted turn
eyes curse the blessed game.
There on the edge of 1st limit
your lips touch
kissing my already broken shoulder.
With the return of things by my side
I can once again
start counting out loud
by pulling on all the petals
she loves me,
she loves me not.
I felt like loving again
here against a second chance today
something stirred in her too.
She reached out just the same to me,
coming across the finish line
all out of breath and sincere,
for as blind as I might be
even I know what the truth to be.
This time won’t be any different
because time away has a way
of interrupting everyday thought.
The surface tension always sinks in
she’s going to drive me insane again.
I can’t quite cut her from veins,
just when I think I’m all settled and good
she finds her way back in and
that fucked up switch inside me
starts loving her all over again
with my selective amnesia.
She makes it impossible
to properly think of anyone else
with that laser focus of hers
she already knows every weakness.
I have no other real choice
than to properly attach
our symbolic collared sapphire necklace
letting the world know
we’re a couple again.
I am no ones perfect
against a million blinks and sighs
I can’t help but do this look stare
in all honesty, I’m standing here
just wanting to fall on top of you.
If it meant I needed to confess
I’d be the first to admit,
I’d bend on broken knee to palm
and say the fucking words.
I am no ones perfect,
we could plan all our days out
and still have room
for first time things to occur.
On the edge of a first kiss
it’s hard to explain why
things must go excruciatingly slow
with no real reason why, other than,
I need to remember and record
the moment all these bottled up feelings
were shaken and stirred,
released, and freely given to the world.
I’m sorry if my heavy circles,
leave marks behind,
it’s just, I need your warm softness.
I promise to trace the words
on top of your nakedness
that vulnerable side of yours
is beyond divine.
and I’ve delivered
just keep in mind
I am no ones perfect.
The spirited change
I gain when I’m near or next to you,
there is this fucked up detonation
I can’t stop thinking of the girl,
it’s quite dangerous if we touch.
Yesterday, wearing that tiny swimsuit
I watched their envious eyes
clip and undress the rest of you
naked in such a public way.
The better part of me gave in
I covered you up with a hug,
just as the water bit and stung.
This child-like playful side
swimming in the tropical water
a pod of dolphins could be heard
piercing the quiet underneath.
I loved how slippery and warm we felt
in that death grip of yours
we bobbed and floated with the current.
The sun gently touched and kissed
highlighting your already bronzed features
the Goddess emerged perhaps
and you knew they were looking
you laid on top and from behind
you whispered the words.
Knowing the reactions they’d elicit
you were instructed to hold your position
cupped and curled like spoons
the sun started its descent
the jealous moon was begging
to come out and play for the first time.
Today, goodbye is gone
so say the love making treasures,
offered up there on the beach.
and the day before
we want things to remain the same,
to be all predictable and boring
just as it’s always been.
Honestly, you’ve lied to us before
I know what’s coming,
with her heavy rains
for some time now
even I tried to ignore the quiet
with everything being so empty
heavy are the circles
I’ve spent hours to days
tracing and outlining
what I thought would make a difference.
Still, the blue skies
break just the same.
Both sides of the day
play heavily in their minds.
What started out as ordinary
has quickly turned to divine.
Sharp tasting foods make life bitter,
as equally are the sweet sugary things
these are their binding agents
words mixed with a hint of desire
starting a want that’s hard to extinguish.
If not by love, then where shall I look?
I know how easy it is to get lost
don’t bother trying to find it in a book,
the author has yet to start writing.
Wait here patiently under the sun
time will pass seemingly unnoticed
blessed by all the treasured looks
the passerby’s with all their attention
I wonder when time will start anew.
Who will be the first to decipher
the true and exact meaning of this poem.
This title is not for the attention alone,
the girl wants more explicit detail
something akin to having to
hide her phone while reading these poems.
Listen, I completely want you
starting from the bottom of your feet
when we fuck you press them to my chest
those perfectly manicured toes
kissed are kissed and bit until they curl
you get this look when you cum.
Perhaps your heels is the reason why
your calves are deliciously defined,
moving upward to your thighs
the strength there in your scissor kick
freshly shaven skin, I want my oiled hands
there on your backside, the curve and all
the tan lines, success, I lift your ass up.
Knees properly kneel and scoot forward
I can easily see your sex from here
hands trace and outline, cupping all of you
and as you press downward, two fingers
separate and explore, slowly bringing
forth your hard excitement,
clit to thumb and I press downward.
My entire palm covers you completely
you grip onto the railing of my arm
rocking forward and back again
the friction builds to her soft whimper.
“I could not hear you.”
My eyes dig into her and she locks on
“May i, Sir?” There is something about her
using the trigger words, right on cue.
Holding to my wrist
the girl is quickly spun over
scooting to the edge of the bed
she takes the tip of Me
I place a finger inside her
she squeezes My wrist hard
very hungrily she swallows
I watch her throat gag a little
there’s no way I’m releasing.
I take the wisp of her ponytail
and slow her down, otherwise,
the visual of the girl, her mouth
“i want you to cum with Me,”
and with her eyes dialed in with Mine
My wrist was tuned to her mouth
we with one good thrust,
“Fuck.” It’s hard to describe the release,
the girl and her brilliant charms
cast a spell so immense
this combined feeling flooded the room
and with each new stroke or push
a wave seriously pummeled us.
We lay there half broken,
she wanted to kiss,
“but I’m in there!?!?”
^^That made her laugh.
Put the phone away
and get back to work!
Lightly sun-kissed freckles
her skin gets even softer
here in these summer hours.
With two very distinct tan lines
cutting diagonally across her bottom,
she knows the contrast is desired
she loves watching His eyes light up
a trigger for her beloved.
A thumb tips her chin,
she softly smiles.
The girl wants to firmly feel his hand
warm natural wetness
she wiggles while pushing back
her secretly sworn addiction,
the hard palm of His hand.
There aren’t words to explain
why the girl gets this way
something about her offering
and how big his eyes stare.
The stinging finally surrenders
she can trace His outlined fingers
highlighted above her bikini tan.
The pleasure of her surrender,
still, she begs her Sir.
Most cannot understand
how divine restriction feels,
when wrists are tied tightly behind
by a skilled braided cord.
It’s easy for her to relax
she welcomes Him in.
Out there under the warm sun
this afternoon her curves were His
to do as He might wish.
This was her hour
sitting and waiting high above the others.
The girl was given her instructions,
but still she was so heavily torn.
Nothing had ever come easy,
all that He instructed
was to comfortably kneel and wait.
Sensitive to please, she loved this path
she turned to listen for Him
making sure eyes and palms
were properly down.
she pressed her tiny body on the spot,
that was until, she got all distracted
by a sweet smelling letter on His desk.
Does she dare or was that her test?
The corner of this envelope
one could tell
had been doused in perfume
the girl found herself overwhelmed.
Eyes couldn’t stand the torture anymore
just one tiny glance couldn’t hurt,
she touched the envelope
and when it fell, she flinched.
she knelt there staring at it
it was obviously not hers
her face and chest began to burn.
With a quick flick of the wrist
that damn envelope was returned,
this was her test.
she was kneeling again so perfectly still.
Her heart sank thinking
what if He’d seen her mistake.
That envelope sat mocking her
and she knelt there with an ache
her shoulders weighed heavily now.
The disappointment in moving an inch,
forgetting, she chose to be the girl.
she was more disciplined than this,
she hated weakness,
she cursed her thorn.
He entered their room,
tipped her chin
eyes faced forward,
just not at Him.
she knew if her eyes
were to look into His
the room would spin
and words would get all messy.
He turned to her
with this poetic kind of whisper
in her hand He placed
the perfumed envelope.
Still, she never truly asked
if time and attention was hers
to gift and share as she pleases.
Still, she’s the one with the contract
our working document
spelling out the terms
how and when we’ll interact.
She insists this all just an act
playing the perfect princess
who’s a little too noble to share
and she swears she needs the discipline.
Heads turn and watch, they stare really,
and I love watching her play her part.
“i give my permission to just one, Sir”
and I smile at her because,
this lifestyle in the wrong hands
can have disastrous affects.
Still, the girl must please as she wants
she’s something of a throw back,
she insists, the world is full of this
these ancient traditions and contracts.
Trust, she says to this arrangement,
that if it wasn’t pleasurable for her
she wouldn’t be doing it.
It, I say to her
can’t be quantified alone
to say you choose is wrong
what happens when you loose control?
There we were,
her own words hung heavily
she turned with a brilliant smile
“we’ll just have to see,
now won’t we?”
The girl and her thorn
digging into her palm deeply
she has so much more to give
it’s 4am and it’s time to awake her.
Each timetable stands on its own merit.
There has to be a certain balance
in the air where perfume hangs.
This room has a calm demeanor
from an occasional whiff of a cigarette,
except, no one there smokes.
This passing moment
sits heavily in the throat
a hard pulse nervously keeps a rhythm
there are proper expectations
outcomes one must keep.
Some take pride in their exacting nature
the joy of following every detail
the best have always pleased.
The girl turns with an obvious question,
and yet, no one offers their reply.
She turns in a more loving manner,
as if this will ease their minds.
It’s an all together too private a moment
for someone to just blurt an answer
still, she knows what she’s done.
She must behave, she hides her thorn
no one will ever notice
it is driven deep in her palm.
It’s sometimes hard not to notice
the pleasurable pain in her face,
still, we try and play along after all
this day has started like all the rest.
There are certain events
that only she acknowledges.
She holds the cord tightly in fists,
and every now and then,
she gives a good hard yank
making sure you’re paying attention
to her well timed
and beloved words.
The morning flowers ready themselves,
an early sun warms velvet petals
birds are the first to celebrate.
Last night got dangerously cold,
even still, it’s the middle of summer
no one wants to hear our complaints
about carefree and everlasting mornings.
Today will be an even longer day,
too many people know our faces
the once generous giving hands
have up and moved away.
Everyone has their favorite street corner
a place set back in the shadows
somewhere to sit and watch.
Just as the day moves forward
the sounds grow louder
and just as it was before
we are forced to move on.
There was never enough time inside
for my fractured side to properly heal.
Forever left aching for the closeout girl,
a consistent type that just wants
without ever giving away her position.
From the top or bottom
there are handsome treasures
that are exclusively hers.
She’s the one who can privately navigate
the lukewarm waters
that line both sides of her wrists.
Temporarily pushed aside
inside, I try not to let it bother me.
Tonight, I want to see those lights glowing
highlighting the brilliant silhouette
of my one and only.
This girl has never been afforded
an easy pathway to be at my side,
she’s always working at it
and now that both of us are listening
she can fix my fractured side.
On the edge of quietly wanting,
all it ever takes
is the undivided attention
placed squarely on her want.
Folded hands have prayed for her,
and right on cue
she calls this morning.
I don’t know why
but I just let the phone ring 4 times.
There on the table next to me
sits her missed call.
I let the phone ring on purpose because
I might still be in love.
As I stared at her profile
my attention exclusively hers
she knows how to close my quiet
capture my broken side,
come tomorrow I’ll stop
and not pray on words
that might call on her to reply.
With arms tightly folded
her hourglass silhouette lay there,
just as the hour softly turned
time was nearly out.
On knees to broken palms
he did everything to get to her,
the words he whispered had no affect.
She was tight lipped and in control,
he asked if she were ready
stepping forward and offered a kiss
softly to her shoulder, nothing happened.
With more weight weighing him down
there was a sweet smelling scent
the girl and her tepid perfume
her skin glistened lightly.
Eyes were hard to adjust
at this time of night
the true intentions of his want
he wanted nothing more
than to simply wake her.
A glass vase lay smashed
on an already swept floor
by the previous attempts.
Careful not to walk barefoot
there was no real choice,
he had to wake the girl.
Her room has been waiting for centuries
the candles have totally burnt out.
There under a shimmering blanket
the prized girl lay quietly still.
Asleep for one hundred years
a curse to make her immortal.
A heavy hand pinched super hard.
Aroused by this stunning reversal,
all her wishes came down to this kiss,
he put his mouth to hers.
Instantly, she was jolted awake,
his eyes laid heavily in hers.
Still, he leaned in and kissed her harder
the room spun her fully awake.
Her throat could only manage a whisper
a prized single word she mouthed,
Last night your perfume transferred
you were left on my sheets
when they smell like this
I can’t help but write.
Listen, you’re the girl
riding on the saddle
thumbs hooked and guiding
loosely around your waist
making sure your ride is steady and safe.
Together we go up and over
all the hills and valleys.
This ride of ours
is going to go both ways
through the rough dark places
to the bright gentle walk
softly meandering through water.
Hips famously sway
like you’re a natural cowgirl.
The push and pull of last night
has left certain marks,
this dance of ours
can’t be taught because
this connection is different
starting and ending with
a mixture of rough and delicate.
We inch up super close
it feels good to lay with you
counting out all our fucked up feelings.
There’s a whole bunch of love
we’re constantly jumping over,
when you wear those tiny outfits
wasted and wanting more of you.
Maybe you’re my first time girl
and I’m supposed to behave
to act a certain way,
the only problem with that is
I’m hardwired to want more of you.
We’re awful at keeping secrets
I can promise you this though,
forever and always
is always for you
I want you back
on the saddle
Emotions fell by the wayside
there wasn’t much to discuss,
flashbulbs seemed to do all the talking.
Summer meant being wasteful
sunbathing with late afternoon drinks
reading about some heinous murder.
People were warned to stay away from her
time passed without too much interference,
that was until, she fell in love.
The dreadful circumstances of feeling,
she hated giving, but worse than that
her narcissism was now given a voice.
She couldn’t control her outbursts anymore
her drinking had increased ten-fold
and the more she tried to put hate on him,
the deeper she found herself in her head.
Sure, there were happy couples around her
clearly she was smart enough to copy them
she couldn’t quite duplicate their look.
The harder she tried avoiding him
other pieces were magnified in her life,
glaring, missing pieces that one can’t forget.
Still, as long as she had her phone
she could trick herself into thinking
that her anonymously secret feelings
would get to him unnoticed.
With time and attention returned
it was altogether too agonizing to leave her,
from the first time until now
the spirit guide has dragged me back.
There on the edge of her careful side
her dress up nights are always fun
playful tiny outfits that are just enough
to keep these eyes from going blind.
With a handful of lovely gifts
her wrists are properly tied
to the corners of our tightly drawn out bed
she’s curved and stretched in submission.
This begging position
has always been exclusively hers
wanting has always been her plan.
The girl and her coveted positioned
she balances on elbows on a couch,
enticing the hour to surrender
love-sick drawn attention for sure
and now with the record secure
the girl wants her place to return.
With the contract dutifully executed
tonight our story can begin.
The strong output returns
in here all alone with her,
a torturous downpour continues
this is why we lay here and wait.
Hands slip inside of hands
the rain dances and insists
we go along with the weight
so we start this kissing game.
Super light whispers at first
placed on the edge of my chin,
she brings her delicate side
and we fill her empty room
with these heavy sounds.
Just as the hour threatened me
it was my turn to play the game on her.
With the curve of words
I outlined syllables on her earlobe
very harshly biting down.
The sun got bored and left us there
we never saw the room grow dark,
still, we were very hungry.
Her stomach grew louder
from inside her bedroom
fogged up windows blurred the view
lost in the precious hours,
she needed to eat,
properly propped up on elbows.
Feeding her against the backdrop
of playing a kissing game
with a set of expensive chopsticks
of all things, she loves
being this close.
At a time in our lives
when we clearly know everything
what a brilliant waste of time we are
and I say “we” because,
there are many parts to the whole
of who we truly are.
If I am the writer
and you’re the reader
we have a symbiotic relationship
where both sides are harmonized.
So I choose to see the world
through my colored glasses
I wish to include you
alongside this allegory with me.
After all, what would your mornings be
if there wasn’t a challenge
which is one reason why
I want you to try
to want not waste not
for 24 hours with me.
Perhaps this may include
skipping some favorite part
or even better yet,
try to leave your phone at home
I dare you to un-connect.
There is surely something we could do
to want not waste not for a day.
Just think how easily time gets used up
when we’re careless with our attention.
Sometimes the devotion we develop
doesn’t have a real chance to flourish,
because we can never see eye to eye.
There are those others
we get along with without any triggers,
those solid people who are our friends
they tend to stick with us
throughout the entirety of our lives.
Then there are the love drawn illusions
who seem to take from us
let’s try for one day
to want not waste not
just to see
how it makes us feel.
Today I fell in love
with the girl who shares with us
her daily outfit
leaning slightly backwards
on either her desk or table.
She’s the one who said,
she must tell us about her haircut,
because we never ask.
This moon-lit girl
is forever writing,
always coming home
straight from work.
She comes alive each night
feeding her starving readers
with enough material
to quench our appetite.
The blogging poet,
with her strict accent
I hope she doesn’t mind
I fell in love with her tonight.
With love cut-up and partitioned
there’s a bounty out there
for a girl who stole everything.
From all sides though,
she had no other real choice,
but to defend her superstitions.
With an outright will to win
she wasn’t one to sit around and wait
unless of course,
time was already too late.
The girl had done one deed though
she knew how to cut ties
no trace like she never entered the room.
Why just yesterday,
the girl had another in love
no need for first names.
Lately it’s been
a string of honest mistakes.
Fortunately for her though,
her beauty isn’t about to fade
still as attractive as she’s ever been.
Still, the bounty was outstanding,
the weight weighs too heavily
for her to simply move on.
She asked and happily answered,
both equally in the same breath,
almost as if,
she wanted a perfect kiss to lips.
Of course I obliged
by offering up my mouth,
close enough to simply do as she wished.
The girl spun around in return
and what started out slowly at first
quickly enveloped into something else.
Hands were full of ideas
and there we were,
for the first real time
out in the public eye.
With her eyes under mine
expecting more than this kiss
she pushed our cordial innocence
up over the edge.
From this moment forward,
understand that nothing comes easy.
She inched even closer still,
I could feel her breathing
beginning to intensify.
Her voice was mixed with secret intentions
she played with something
a little more private
squarely in front of others
I have to admit,
this balancing act was exciting.
Afterwards, I stood their staring
was this wisest choice after all?
It was too late to question or answer
both of us had already fallen
we could only lay there
wounded on the field
love and all of its pitfalls
had clearly won.
Hovering thinking waiting wanting.
The girl had all her belongings
laid out on a tiny table, waiting,
thinking I was late.
Too late, I was already in love
watching with all the answers
I could hardly wait
for her to ask and notice.
Aimlessly through the pages,
her book had her attention now,
jealous simply because
her eyes were so focused.
Beauty, her natural companion guide
the way her hair
formed a set of ringlets
not knowing I had beat her there
memorizing with admiration
the best is her natural way
she’s a carved out sculpture
all ready to be adored.
The girl in the garden
wanting to hide her thorn,
sitting all too pretty
without a care in the world.
The predawn stare
planning out the day ahead.
The treacherous stairs
down the side of an eroded cliff
every neighbor has them
row after row after row
a protective rib cage spanning the coast.
A century of family members trudging
along a worn out trip to the beach,
how time has taken from this place.
The gentle fog seems so peaceful,
as it roles in and out every day
grabbing with it’s long fingers.
This was a summer project perhaps,
a time when society freely gathered
to lend a helpful hand.
Today however, those hands want.
With just two weeks to restore
a safe well built pathway for friends.
What must of taken years to complete
will be dismantled and hauled by nightfall.
Uneven boards laid over sand
the sun bakes every bit of moisture out,
causing a twisted and contorted path
a broken spine spewing across the sand.
The once beautiful walkway allowed us
to walk hand in hand and make promises.
By myself, with the sun just coming up
I can only hope these new steps
will be used and walked on
for the next 100 years
through decades of change
long after I’ve left.
There is an open chance at love,
a one in a million opening
where it’s no surprise
just how glued our eyes get.
I find her irresistible
this must mean something
when it’s hard to think.
She wears a forever necklace that says,
i very simply wish…
Perhaps the necklaced gift
was her lucky charm from me,
held close to her nape.
When she comes near
she plays this particular song
I can’t help but put eyes inside her
and just as the hour changes
this want comes alive in us both
so much so, that it hurts
to be too far from her.
The quiet words felt it too,
along a set of prearranged orders,
she whispered the trigger phrase
that fires off an exclusive sensation
that helps in our recovery.
I love her unlike
she holds a reservoir ready to give
there in her open hands.
She sees herself
in my eyes,
and in my hands
I cover the small of her back
giving her the time and attention
With a half torn look
she brings the microphone
softly to her lips
and for the first real time
we get to hear that voice.
In front of an audience
she sings her glorious ballads
I swear she was born for this night.
Eyes affixed in adoration
the volume grows around her
we try to sing along.
The bright stage lights
highlight the wonderful performer,
just yesterday we were writing songs
and now tonight, she’s singing
about her brilliant life
strung out here before us.
The dedication in our eyes
I can remember a time
when she was unrecognized,
the competition taken personally
from a place where
her confidences were waining
not believing just how amazing
she looks up on that stage.
I can see why
it takes a while to get close
to you it’s a slow delicate ride.
If I could get with you,
I’d have a good laugh
at all those who said
you would never love me back.
Like last night when you were
everlasting helping me
catching up to our last time.
It was a surprise
to see that smile return so quickly,
I was hopeful at first,
but now that we’re connected
you mean the world to me.
Both of us have tried
to say it in a way
that makes perfect sense.
I’m still going to love you
fast forward to the end
between this moment and then
you can come stand by me
broken side and all
we could fall all over your blankets
in your bed of pillows
make love and everything.
I can see you
trying to tell me
you’re ready to try something new.
I’m open to show you
this whole other side
you never saw coming.
With time and attention balanced
all eyes shift in one direction.
From that first time,
until this latest moment
the girl sits seductively polished.
Miles from an unfinished garden,
the thorn bush completely removed,
the coveted yard in heirloom blossoms
sits ready to prove her work.
Waiting to properly answer,
having memorized the trigger words
her beauty is ready to strike.
Accurate and Domineering
she puts her wishes out on display
a room that has been all planned out
the hooked ropes beg to bind
from feathers to the candle’s flame
she dreams of a hand to her backside.
Driving her want into a frenzy,
tonight she’ll be on display
the spell hours coming in waves
the heavy whispers inch to ears
everlasting ache is turned sideways,
and just as hands entwine
she pushes back on both elbows
driving every inch of desire
deep up inside.
Believing in something bigger
betting there’s no need to worry
while on knees leaning to elbows
please form a prayer chain.
This righteous plan works,
call it divine or something else
we will perform whatever it takes
to shine with supportive love.
No matter how it looks
there are second chances
to second choices.
Some will will it to be our truth.
Today, good luck calls your name,
you are our champion
you are my brother too.
When you see someone
a strong younger brother
now seems mortal,
the world can shift and support.
Today we’ll start our prayer-chain.
For now though gently hold his cape,
be that insulating layer
when change is hard to imagine,
still, a thousand warm nights
are ahead of you both.
His children, those daughters
carefree and energetic
keep that as your energy guide.
Let these days pass in time-lapse,
erase all doubt
let love surround all thoughts
be that internal energy
where anything can be overcome.
Let them see your hopeful optimism,
even as you’re fighting
on your own path.
I made a promise to friend that I’d post a ton of poetry as she fights this inoperable Stage 4 lung cancer. The cancer has metastasized and gone to the neck and brain. She hinted that having poetry to read helps with time. A while back she was diagnosed with breast cancer (Remission Now) and to pass time with those sleepless nights she wrote these beautiful letters by hand. About once a week I’d receive a bundle of letters, it was amazing.
Having already survived breast cancer a few years back, this newest setback has had fewer and fewer options. We talk almost daily and our standing rules are we laugh, but never cry. Never Cry. It goes both ways, our no cry rule. Listen, we understand a good cry is actually helpful, but it’s now more about honoring our mantra and smiling at stuff rather than hold it inside.
There will be time for crying later, just not today. It actually makes it bearable to talk about scary stuff, very matter of factly, so in that respect, it’s helpful to have our standing no crying rule.
This girl and I are on different time zones(she’s 3 hours behind) as she lives on Hawaii and I’m in California we have our ‘routines’ down so to speak. Last night she calls at an off hour outside her norm and leaves a message crying. Naturally, the radar goes up and I need to call her. This particular time, we cried.
Her younger brother collapsed yesterday and had a seizure. MRI showed a mass on his brain and will be flown to a bigger hospital today for a diagnosis and treatment plan. She’s devastated. Her younger brother was the one helping her to keep motivated and pushing forward. He is married with 4 young children and a guy who puts others first always.
I’m a firm believer in prayer chains. All that read this, can you throw out prayers for this family. For those of you that have never prayed before, just say something kind in your mind for them. Love you.
We drink from paper cups here,
that fragile first introduction
and she’s in my head again
the girl who holds everything close.
These are the delightful first starts
that never seem to hit their mark.
From the first night until now
there’s no waiting on this one,
she and her sensitive side,
it means I can write.
There’s something about
being the one she includes.
There’s a rush to hear her voice
getting back into conversation,
she twists her hair and pretends
magic comes from natural places
not from made up fairytales.
Reasoning love is mess with her
there’s no room for middle ground.
She steps forward and accepts
that first time kiss, almost as if
she’s about to get into trouble.
It’s unusually pretty here
looking at the pouring rain
from underneath her middle,
she’s tangled and caught by this storm.
Fruit stains our open palms,
hands have that sugary feel
so I climb back to her ear,
she whispers a seven-digit combination
waits for my reaction to take hold.
Always in a state with her
I can’t keep her from coming around
no matter how much it takes
her charming path to my edge
she always has an open palm
she likes for the law to be laid down.
These last four hours
have mattered most
we’re drinking from paper cups.
The trouble curves
are happen stance
triggered by some chance encounter.
With just one look,
all good judgement
is stripped and torn away.
Today we must redefined as the beginning
so that yesterday will have its purpose.
Everything between the delicate strangers
was going exactly as planned,
a chance encampment with a stranger
was the perfect recipe for walls to fall.
No matter how many hours are expected
it takes just one, to make it across.
Forever and a day perhaps
it should not make a difference
if we’re at the start or in the middle.
All we know is the here and now
where the fresh and new alike
both begin and start.
These kinds of beginnings
aren’t arranged or set to a plan
it makes no difference,
when we are called or drawn.
Everything prior hasn’t quite worked.
Hands reach to tell the story
spreading her uneven surfaces,
she and her early summer dress.
A new season is now upon us,
just as neither has truly asked
it’s hard to imagine why
this one was by herself.
A balanced playful mind,
witty and somewhat complicated
silence does not shake her confidences.
Eyes lock for the first time
and now this, is what is expected.
This newness calmly celebrates,
the march of a thousand beats plays
somewhere off in the distance.
I’m the first to admit
her spell seemed so far fetched,
yet here I am
twisted in her line.
Her new and handsome delivery,
we’re locked in a spacious room
we won’t quit until all the steps
are memorized and learned.
Nostalgia’s quick and easy grasp
the memory trigger pushes us
up and over the edge we go.
There’s no use in feeling
the height of this fall
will be enough
to kill us both.
We have these last few seconds
here on this earth
before we reset and start again.
Her hands have always been the steadiest,
she reaches and takes control.
The force of wind is blinding
it’s hard on the eyes to pay attention,
and just like she always does,
this free fall stops and hovers.
The outside world go washing by
still, we’re in this protected bubble
she’s quietly inside
repeating the words
from a 2000 year old Sufi poet.
“i want you to laugh
to kill all your worries
to love you
to nourish you.”
With those words
and her soft kiss
the free fall is over
with no light or warning
we abruptly stop
the last sound
the thud of our bodies.
With the dust cleared and settled
in what should be two bodies
there was simply nothing.
From this start until our last,
it’s hard to get out of our own way.
Yesterday had all its promises, yet
today we have no imagination
still stuck in our stubborn ways.
If words are all that we’ll ever have
let’s make each writing a trigger
back to the days when we were lovers.
That excited joy
having that unquenchable fever
we could have squeezed life in our hands.
Oh but not all is lost,
there are inoculations for such imaginings,
a flu shot perhaps,
to erase this one sickness
away with this aching feeling.
Let there be no more whispers
deep in the nautilus shell.
There are others who have lined up
simply grateful for the chance
to spend an hour in the infirmary
kneeling at the side of the bed.
Gladly accepting sickness from the fever.
Eventually, just like all other things
this quiet solitude will have its price.
One day someone will wake up
and find that these words
are but an empty glass.
With everything all figured out,
it’s been a week now
since speaking strictly in confidence.
Love torn is love divided and
it is all too easy to go all quiet.
When yesterday spoke
and refused the hand
a coveted position was lost
or was it stolen?
The seasons do not ask
if it is their turn to dance,
change is always gradual
never so sudden as to
take one by surprise.
It was a mistake to think
that both sides are equal,
that of a lover and friend.
Quite on the contrary
I am here to defend
love outweighs and conquers
the anemic casual friend.
It is such a waste to say
that the day was never claimed,
left here to rot in absolute ruin.
Words are born to their truisms,
some neglect to consider all outcomes
certain ideas are not spoken by decree.
One must accept the extended love
in whatever way it arrives,
it’s all too easy to be pushed aside.
Once refused and shut out the gate
with a look of,
your kind are there with them.
Kindness is but a blind fool,
ignorance is the price to be paid
never to say we’re just this or that,
instead, promise to love
until our deaths.
Accepting the invitation,
as much as he would not
meant giving his chance away.
At second or third thought
it would have been crazy of him
to turn down such a request.
It would have taken in fact
the strength of ten
very muscled bound men
to stop this strange encounter
from ever happening,
but then again they might not have
slept through the deafening ringing
set from her suspicious phone.
It has always been a challenge
keeping her secrets from falling
into the wrong hands.
One time she proclaimed
with the deadliest of faces
those extra texts just simply
weren’t coming from him
instead with the lamest of excuses
apparently her phone was hacked.
With all these 21st century terms
it’s hard to imagine now
who’s telling the truth
and who could be the liar.
With time and attention I suppose,
always having special meaning
on our side had no real choice.
It was time to start all over again,
so when that invitation
came knocking at the door
it was hard to ignore
the importance it bore.
Try as one may
to dismiss it away
the letter demanded opening
and try as he might
he could not ignore
the pleas coming from
such perfect penmanship writing.
It boils down to some old cliche
you get what you pay for
and since he had deposited
all this time in her
it was inevitable
he now owed her
When devotion is born from two sides
it’s easy to see how and why
a temporary bond can join.
Temporary simply because
time can’t stand still or alone.
Where one wants and shares
the other may give and please,
this balance is easily transferable.
Love has its own currency
some choose to hoard and save,
while others may flood the market
giving and going into debt.
The change we share with each other
comes from sorrows sweet hand of despair.
She swears her love to be true and fair.
Countless are the hours
I’ve waited in this exact place
watching as she plays the mother,
I still want a daughter.
Watching as she convinces another
she’s happily in love.
I’ve watched the length of 21 seasons
come and change the dead.
There are a set of certain demands
she’ll never give into,
or shall I say, her demands must be met
before she will dutifully fall on her sword.
She wants both sides
to be free and equal
no matter the cost to the armies.
Battles will be fought and won
walls torn down and explored,
new adventures and promises,
and all of this is only possible
when love feels.
In the solitude of these hours
the house slowly wakes.
Plastic garbage bags strewn about
a first year of college is finally over.
Today is like the first day of summer,
even if it were a month too soon.
The sky looks so differently here,
the previous years of drought are gone.
The memory floods at this window
unseasonable rain pours.
A lit cigarette interrupts the clean air
and it’s all the same.
The unpaid balances of yesterday
still remain the same today.
Many of these instructional hours
where one is truly learning
is spent in solitude’s tepid grasp.
Todays pouring rain
promises the day to start even later.
The house is quiet
it’s just past noon and
breakfast was either skipped
or not started,
I found this on Reddit this morning and I thought it to be beautiful. Happy Friday everyone.
There is this type of control
I feel coming on strongly
not from my hands,
but in waves of thought.
I expect things of myself
and that carries through
to everyone in my space.
are what I feel
when I hear your voice,
your laugh and shy look.
The sound you make
is pure and pretty
and that’s why I try to listen
to you more than I speak.
Each time you find time
to love me
the freedom and energy
comes in waves.
I saw you walking today,
your hair looked shorter
and I couldn’t help myself
to replay the video you sent
laughing at yourself.
you only call on me
when you need someone to love.
I’m the first to be thought of
and it’s not like I’m complaining
about being thought of
especially when you need to love.
Yesterday, I promised,
that was two days ago
time is slipping again
from all the loud chaotic sounds.
You’re miles away from me
convincing me to stay.
In the quiet
solitude of my heart
I can hear no one but you
in that acoustic voice.
Do you plan on
loving me like this
your entire life?
Scared from a dream
swimming in a large reef tank
the deadly’s were all there
happily swimming along
keeping me company.
I was told to ignore the dangerous ones,
until one turned and attacked
and everyone that was with me
abandoned the water and mentioned
“That looks like it hurts.”
My defensive wounds,
I slept on my hand all wrong
and it fell asleep.
That would account
for the numb tingling that woke me.
Awake now, afraid to return to sleep
the reef and all its magical wonders
can stay behind the inch thick glass.
I’m fine snorkeling in front of my bed,
it’s still easy to watch their interactions
and for some, who really knows
they don’t want our half naked bodies
floating around their sub-tropical world.
Bad dreams jade the whole process
of looking forward to sleep.
Instead, I reached for my phone
to tell all of you about my flaw,
being seriously afraid of the dark,
childish I know, but it’s real to me.
Fearful of a little darkness,
it’s rooted in the fact of being alone
in this lavish hotel room.
I’ll be up for the next 5 hours
with an eye on the tank,
until I change the accommodations and
move to a room that doesn’t have
an exotic reef tank
so close to the bed.