The Hunger

He shares me
Like breast milk to baby
Nurturing his every little nasty fantasy

My pride and my self-worth groan in agony
At the thought of who I might become

Because I like it
Because he loves it

Because we both need the attention
Both need to feel like more than we know
We will ever be

The Pacifist: An Ode to "Settling"

Why can't we be happy?

Perhaps it's because we
Play at being friends...

Or maybe we pretend
to be in love;

Either way, the pain is real
And I want to stay, so--

Is contentment an option?

8.30.10

Good friends are sometimes like old lovers--
When it's good, it's really good...
And when it's done, you wonder if it was ever worth it;

Those moments spent filling empty time
Full of memories
Fond gestures
Thoughtful words

Since any given instant can reduce the value
Of it all down to nothing more than the cigarette
And the deep exhale preceeded by a decent lay...

...the sick and twisted kind where you wish you
Hadn't indulged, yet lack the desire to wash the
Stench away

I want there to be more to us than afterthought--
But maybe that's all we've ever been...