Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The Thirteen Rule

thirteen days from tomorrow
was twelve days ago.
and as days do pass,
they faded much too slow.

but now that they were over,
I brushed them to the side;
tomorrow was my worry:
for the Thirteen Rule applied.

the Thirteen Rule was simple,
a superstitious fact:
if something could go wrong,
that error would enact.

we sat Thirteen 'round the table,
paying the homage due,
a Thirteen course offering,
such that errs would not ensue.

we were fairly normal folk
and though Thirteen was our curse,
we'd prefer this inconvenience
to riding in a hearse.

there was nothing that would kill us
'cept for the Thirteen Rule,
thus the best food went to Thirteen
while we sat and ate our gruel.

Zombification

slowly being pulled in two:
a love for her and a love for you.
trying to hold, trying to slow,
trying to avoid letting either of you go.

in the end I must make my heart
choose one or split apart,
between life's warmth and death's release,
I might progress or I might cease.

for now, I wander around half-dead,
half-filled with love, half-filled with dread.
(perhaps a zombie, poor circumstance,
least I don't eat brains with limbs askance.)

Monday, February 12, 2007

not enough

you never know what's left behind
before you turn around,
nor know how hard I fall
until I hit the ground.
you never know how much it hurts
before you feel the pain,
nor discover how much I've lost
until I try to gain.

you never know how much I loved,
we had no trials to test.
we never broke apart until
they laid you down to rest.
I can still hear the melody,
I still try to hum the tune;
I still feel you in my dreams at night--
you push away my doom.

but since I could not die for you,
now I need to live.
I have the love you found in me,
I need somewhere else to give.
I feel I need to ask you
if it would be alright,
if I lent it to someone else
pierced their darkness with my light.

I ask you for your answer
when I see you in my dreams.
I hope she'll work out like we did,
with less invasive seams.
I never will forget you--
still flowing is our love.
but you're not here to hold me--
my dreams are not enough.

not enough

you never know what's left behind
before you turn around,
nor know how hard I fall
until I hit the ground.
you never know how much it hurts
before you feel the pain,
nor discover how much I've lost
until I try to gain.

you never know how much I loved,
we had no trials to test.
we never broke apart until
they laid you down to rest.
I can still hear the melody,
I still try to hum the tune;
I still feel you in my dreams at night--
you push away my doom.

but since I could not die for you,
now I need to live.
I have the love you found in me,
I need somewhere else to give.
I feel I need to ask you
if it would be alright,
if I lent it to someone else
pierced their darkness with my light.

I ask you for your answer
when I see you in my dreams.
I hope she'll work out like we did,
with less invasive seams.
I never will forget you--
still flowing is our love.
but you're not here to hold me--
my dreams are not enough.

Monday, February 5, 2007

The Other Half Too

the ghost of fingertips on my chest,
the memory of her kiss,
the thought of her holding me tight,
lost in our self-made bliss.

the dance of your words across the screen
sends shivers down my spine;
your actions transmitted over the web
keeps me wishing you were mine.

p'haps i want more
than just a free ride,
i have tokens-gifts-to share,
and want to feel it inside.

i want to feel my heart's at home,
and your gaze drowning me.
i want to have the other half too,
your touch real, not dreamed.

i wish for your fingertips on my chest,
your lips against my own,
your warm arms holding me tight,
and ecstasy to the bone.

Cheat Sheet

"You sure you want this done?"

"Yes. I've gone over the formulas and equations for months, and had others review them as well. I'm certain they're correct."

"And you want it--"

"On my arms, small, but still readable. All the trig functions--"

"The what?"

"This page." The customer shuffles through the pile and pulls out one sheet, writing in black letters at the top: LEFT FOREARM. "--On my left forearm. But I want them correct, exactly as they're written here. If not, well... I was told you were the man for the job. If you're not up to it, I'll thank you for your time and go somewhere else. If you mess one equation up, copy it incorrectly, you'll hear from my lawyer."

The tattoo artist opens his mouth, but the customer continues:

"I understand it's a strange request, and I'll willing to do it over the course of several visits--as many as you need. I see no reason to rush you."

He scratches the goatee on his chin, looking across the desk at the clean cut customer. "Alright, I'll take it, but I have one question."

"I imagine you'll have more before this is over, but go ahead."

"Why?"

"Why the trig functions on my forearm?"

"Why any of this? Wes, 'why' that page in a specific spot, but I can tell you've put a lot of time and effort into this. Why all of it for some equations?"

"The trig on my arm because that's what I have the most trouble with. As for the rest of it, the meaning behind this all," he thumbs through the sheaf of papers between them, "is to get ahead. I love mathematics. I plan on using it for the rest of my life. It's my major and will be my occupation. Some people have great memory for these things, some people need a cheat sheet."

"But you can't use a cheat sheet on exams."

The customer grins. "Exactly." He jumps up and shakes the tattoo artist's hand.