The confessions of Four

He introduced himself as Four
Had certain bad deeds to answer for
I have a confession i need to make
To right the wrongs of my mistakes
My sins are numbered by my name 
dark secrets I’ve held and soley claim
One Sunday morning a plot unfolds
Took a life to save her soul
The second occurred at 21
A bar several beers and a gun
Number three a damaging lie
Hurt many close friends of mine
The fourth accused as a thief 
Charged convicted and found guilty
Prayed repented and asked for forgiveness 
Meditated deeply and contemplated
Searched endless for this very moment 
For gods approval and atonement

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Two Hearts


Angel eyes,
James Dean smile,
and a Marcos Not A Hero shirt
He was scouring the room when he found me first
Shy guy type,
crooked spine,
My heart compressed and prepared for the worst
The second he stepped in to my world,
I found my tongue struggling for some words

"I'm a bad conversation,"
I'd say, gripping harder on my first Chardonnay
"How else can you be a conversation?"
he'd flash a smile, flicking the last of his Marlboro Lights


And right there and there,
two souls collided into a glorious explosion,
sliding to the grip of the claws of the night
on the way to the familiar road
of sins, misery, and scenic memories


After two nights of flying ballistics
and crippling thoughts once abandoned,
Two hearts soon mixed
into a sparkling August poison
A blue bourgeois Libra
And a yellow-bleeding Leo
A pair of delicate, diamond hearts
Defying fate, seeking Cupid's darts
Rising from the dead,
Rising from ash
Rising for the words once left unsaid


The thrill of it all is eating me whole 
I feel the shaking ground and the cold air blows
Omens, cautions, and warnings 
Red lights above us all blaring
A whirlwind romance, friends say,
is bound for doom and eventual fade
But his words are enough to hold on to
Words that make my demons fade into view
along with my bad past as I start anew
Away from the dark clouds 
that have crippled me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about a whirlwind romance.



“Who is he?”

I whisper to myself

as your eyes gaze off to the distance

and treat me with the unbearable silence

I’m a little too late, I guess,

I hear your eyes scream, they confess

It is him who holds your heart

The one you’d rather hold your hand

Under the city lights

In a cold November night


But my love for you is greater than his.


So do the honor and list down the things

you so liked about him

Watch me burn myself with a pile of leaves

and reborn as him

Just let me be your light, your candle tonight

I can be him, your lover, if you like

I’ll cut my wrist, drain the blood my ancestors

passed on to me

Replace it with the words he whispers

when I’m not around

Let his words flow down my veins so you may speak

and tell me all the things you never say to me

Slit my throat with the screen of the phone you use

To capture his face, his smile, the perfection, your muse

Because you never even once

took a picture of me

— or maybe my image is just

too hideous for you to keep?

What strength of lens does he use, you say?

I can smash mine down if it’s not the same

Use the shards to peel off my skin I so badly hate

Blessed is he to have the kind that keeps you sane

I’ll unclench my claws I’ve spent years to build

Pull them out and mold me his hands and feet

Let the blood spritz all over the room

Let them spell: HERE LIES A HOLY FOOL,



Tell my mother I died a sweetest death

And I’ll be waiting in line in the Day of Resurrect

Pour out the gasoline all over my corpse for the final touch

Say a short Ignatian prayer before you strike the match

Watch my skin; watch my veins turn to ash, turn to dust,

as I’m enveloped and swallowed by flames

‘Cause I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of asking,

“Who is Carl, baby? I’m James.”


From now on, call me Carl.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about wanting and loving someone so much you are willing to turn yourself into someone else.

My Alibi

begins in a small corridor-like
Dim lighting-
Swinging lanterns-
Their movements-

Blaring speakers.
Echoes through the halls.
Pictures of surrealist figures-
Dream-like emotionless pigments.

Speculation. My crime?
A murderer of love.
Labeled as a heart breaker.
Destroyer of faith-
Sang about-
Radio blues.
A cancer- 
Spread and penetrates the hearts of 
the naive.
Haunts the impressionable.
Hated amongst the mass.

The jury-
Shattered remains of loveless relationships.
A parade of emotionless shadows.
In love alone-
Water soaked cheeks-
Wrinkle as the sebum washes off their epidermis.
Tear stained.
Eyes dipped in burgundy molted lava.
They stare in disappointment.
Belligerent thoughts-
As they convict-
Hate me.

Recall the love.
His eyes brighten-
When I was near.
He held my hand.
So intense.
Mentally swooning.
My name adorned his.

I was the cause of his demise.
The reason why tears formed in his eyes.
I left-
He trembled.
Blood shed.
A lifeless caucus.
Swimming in a cesspool.
Belligerent rampages.
The once blue eyes that glittered in the sunlight.

In need of an alibi-
Looking to the ceiling-
in order to maintain a lie.
Exhausting every possible conclusion.
Clenching my fist-
"I wish he didn't exist."
As the courtroom throw their hands in the air.
"He stuck to me like glue-
a budding rose-
hands of a beggar."
He stared-
Eyes like daggers
As I continued.
"Depended like a child-
Emotions of a juvenile-
So close that he shared my air."

Chairs shifted.
My alibi?
Merely a confession.
My looks of deprivation- 
Just a symptom of my syndrome-
A heart breaker.
As the jury comes in
they tell me I'm guilty for my sins.
My sentence?
"How long will it take to mend his broken heart?"
As he utters-
" A life time."
Ice cold hand cuffs-

In a 12X12 room-
No sunlight-
No contact-
No emotions.
Left to think about my deeds-
As the reminders of his love-
pours downs my pale grey walls. 
Lost and filled with self pity.
My punishment?
Feel the sorrow the heart broken. 

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Confessions of the Lonely

Damn, dog.

I hurt.

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