In death

people don’t disappear

they brighten up and write poems

on the other side of the sky

wait for you to decipher

their lines.

They bury the flowers

you planted and eat your leftover soup

even if living with the dead was hard

their life in your hands

is as comparable

as empty hands and brick walls.

Poems poetry Some of my poems

I think too much while waiting for my coffee

When I wanted to be the greatest, you were at your worst. Then
that thought came and went
like your morning desire. My grace
was worn out, my washed out hair
needed a trim
my cat eyes magnificent without a trace of makeup
and you threw me on the bed, made me cum in thirty nine seconds.
Invincible, untouchable
the view was magnificent, rue de la Commune
shining on us as we weaved
in and out of raves,
between the alternate states
the pills, the booze, our entwined fates
facing each others’ fears, misguided words
led us here to undress each other
with our clothes on as your anger
penetrates deep within me
and I excuse myself for not trusting you
as I take my morning shower
thinking of your voice
whispering dirty words
in my ear
and it’s all for art
all for the masses
all for you
all for me.