Y Poems

b/coz d art of poetry
allows u more room
2 decorate n redecorate
d spaces in between;
I give u - not just words
in black n white, but
make a gift of my room
2 color it d way u’d like it,
my skeletons 2 flesh out
d way u see fit;
n even if it’s not
d red bandana
n kohl eyes I hav in mind,
ur pink walls bcome ur own
amidst my airiness.
Wat’s mine in my head
is more urs in ur hand.
Nothin altruistic abt it tho...
I leav u 2 connect d dots
that is y i love poetry!

incognito

d winds nip smoke off my face
burnin' my tongue, lightin a parched throat
n i wonder...
how do i tell u
i crave a cold mattress
on d floor by d wall

my skin sings n i cry
empty streets, survey one-eyed lamps
at tree corners in d dark;
i crave this emptiness
while u deny wat i kno

in my red red bones.