Poetic souls, I pity you.
Once again, my mind repeats the same poems.

numberone

all he needs
is to
be missed
because to
be missed
is to
be wanted
and to
be wanted
is as

essential as
his beating heart.

in that case
consider
him already
facedown
on his bedroom
floor

his beating heart
now
a still-life
testimony
to his
defeat.

numbertwo

If I recall correctly, I used to have

thisnaïvefantasy

that the deafstars would
somehow discover
a sense of hearing
& finally listen
to the hundreds
of wasted

wishes
I threw into the
darkened night.
All that time, I

couldhavebeen

lyinginbed
making those wishes

come true,

at least inmydreams;
though, the dozens of

insomniac nights

are nothing
compared to the
countlessdays
spent
waiting for the sun
to set on the diurnal abyss,
the constant vigil of
loneliness,

so I could wrap myself in
the nocturnal shroud
to obscuremylips

pattering together,
whispering their

romantic prayer

intotheclouds.

numberthree

I had a bad dream to-night: the kind

that leaves you
gasping for your breath
&yourhandsclamped
on the edge of the
stark sheets(soaked with your
sweat);

in which you
run&you run&you run&you
just can't run far
enough&you're not sure
what you're running from
(or if you're getting
anywhere
at all);

that clearly manifests
its meaning but
the memory of knowledge dawdles(
ruthlessly) at the
precipice of your
rapidlynarrowingken.

Silly fool, (you think you are--
ormaybe)youare
--for letting
the bane of your slumber
escape from the alcoves
of your mind

numberfour

even in my dreams
i search for you
to take me in
your arms while
the world is
spending reality
in one other's
close embrace.
here is the
only place i'll
find myself
spending forever
with you
so it's short
just like the
time we're
spending together.

numberfive

I sat there
feeling my diaphonous
heart bleed uncontrollably.
It cannot be
your fault since
you simply did
not know of
it's hidden delicacy.
It was all
good in the
end because once
again, you're innocent.
But now, pristine
smiles are wasted
when you're caught
with red hands.
you are now
the epitome of
being blatently guilty.