His Magic


He is a Wizard
a Magician
a Sorcerer.

Is it his magic
or his love
that has her
coming back for more?

He does things to her
that take her by surprise,
it’s the magic that he does
right before her eyes.

It’s the tricks he plays
upon her heart.
The Charm of Affection,
he cast from the very start.

He works his magic
he doesn’t quit.
He’s a magician,
a sorcerer, a wizard
or some such shit.

A conversation with the girl in the mirror


You are too fat for that dress
and your hair is a mess
your skin is dull
your eyes are too small

How is it that
you are failing math
I thought you were
smarter than that

OMG, you forgot
about the meeting today
get your shit together
you don’t have time to play

Crap, add, fix the towel bar
to the, “to do” list
and I’m almost certain
there is a birthday, you’ve missed

Girl, why can’t you get
your shit straight
get it together
you’re almost, 48

** A real live conversation I had with “the girl in the mirror” this morning.  She just looked back at me like I was completely insane.  Clearly she is no help.**

Pissed Off Rhyme

she straddles the line
between right and wrong

sometimes she makes up words
to her own damn song

most days
she doesn’t give a fuck
she honestly thinks
most men suck

except for maybe
a few here and there
she’d rather not bother
she’d rather not care

but that’s a story for another time
now we are talking about
this pissed off rhyme

now we are talking  about
whiners and shit
and why she has to hear all of it

now we are talking about
me’s, my’s and I’s
the takers
the hoarders
and those guys

who are always wanting
right now

but who never seem to
give back
and yet

don’t understand the balance
of life
they only see
their own bubble of strife

that is what this stupid rant is about

now she’s done
she’s over it
aren’t you glad she got that out

Sometimes I Make You Sad


Sometimes, You make me sad.

Originally posted on myredabyss:


Sometimes, all a man has is the ability to make a woman sad. There’s something in seeing the tears roll down her face, that makes us feel some sense of worth. Maybe it’s control, or maybe we’re just impotent in love and compassion. Monsters, aren’t we all. So dumb and numb, we attack beauty in an attempt at feeling tall when really, really we’re all so small. Beneath the skin, a mess of childhood fears never far from taking over the charade of what we call living. Just boys, forever scared of the future, and the haunting terror of being rejected. And all we ever do, is slip back into our childhood. Misunderstood, our minds become corrupt. Our hearts broken by regret. Further away, each day a stained reminder of all that we’ve lost. Men, stupid little men. All bone, and so lacking in beauty. Sleepflowers, ticking down time until…

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One Foot in Reality


Things change, and things stay the same. That’s alright baby, that’s okay :)

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:

Plans I can’t make
trips I can’t take
my hands shake

Feet planted here
heart, mind, elsewhere
future clearly unclear

Black and white makes grey
the color of words we say
but it’s alright baby, it’s okay

Heart thumps out of my chest
holding on with bated breath
I just don’t know what is next

Fantasy and reality become blurred
holding back my words
some things should not be heard

I can’t explain it anyway
what can I possibly say
that I need you more each day

Can time be stopped for us
if we pout if we fuss
we can ignore we can discuss

But still time marches on
a different day a different song
twenty four more hours gone

Good morning how are you?
I’d feel better if you knew,
I want Both Feet next to you

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Something Unique


Have I told you how much you mean to me
Or have I rambled on incoherently
Have any of my words made it through
Are they bridging the distance between me and you
I speak, I write, I ramble on
Like lyrics of a forgotten song
But I wonder, do you understand
Is this something you can comprehend
That words themselves can’t be enough
To effectively express this kind of love
Because how do I explain what’s new
Something unique and special between me and you
I just wonder if I have let you know
If I have done enough to let it show

It Just Gets Old

I am trying to give a shit,
but I don’t.
My heart is trying to care,
but it won’t.
My mind revolves around the thought,
lets go.
Am I emotionally dead?
I don’t know.
You could say I’m callous
say I’m cold.
But I’ve heard that story so many times before,
and it just gets old.
I’d like to apologize,



I Still Have Butterflies.

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:


I can’t stop thinking
my mind is reeling
my stomach is full of butterflies

I’d like to stop and disappear
into the fantasy
of you near

my heart is beating
between my legs
and that is a feeling I’d like to stay

I am not a silly
romantic type
I do not fall for the usual lines

butterflies generally make me ill
but something about this
is giving me a thrill

Maybe it’s butterflies
or a girl hard-on
maybe it is right

maybe it is wrong
perhaps it is even words
to a brand new song

Whatever and anyway
it is a connection
what else is there to say

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He Ruins My Make-Up

I pull him close

yet push him away

it’s the words he does

and doesn’t say

it’s the moments of pause

looking though his eyes

I am still amazed and surprised

I am still awed by his beautiful soul

these are the things I want him to know

these are the things I cannot say

when I sit and I stare

when my breath is taken away

when a teardrop forms in the corner of my eye

messes up my make-up


I’m so happy I cry