pay me no credit'

for this favor that i ask:
i said
my god mother'
on her death bed.
So peaceful is she.
That i invite her to be at my side.
Natercia oh lord'
how i'd love to see in her eyes.
that she'll know where to lead her.
that we see the same mutation/transformation
onto the other side'
to die for her oh lord'
you give me the strength
and the serenity
that it's good
to be
ALIVE.

warm Winnipeg winters'

ice cream / i scream
list'
... this word
of ours.
Variables.

gods of wet'
fur
and cold
frosted milk shakes.

Only to spite
in spite of me!

Marco
not to satisfy her.

Tanya - the emotion.

Marco - the beast'.

You best portray a wanting of esthetic
or' perhaps eccletic reasoning.

NO - YOU.

Marco' being
is
realistic.

That Dr. Gordon
and my abstract poetry progressing...
tiny - tiny
SEX.
sex.

But now Marco -
you critique
only myself.
On horse checking,
rubbing its' furry nose.
And
and again
you hail the lord'
That she loves me -
Tanya'
Tanya loves me.

Marco
.


to save us.

To save us.
you hail the lord'
... to save us.

That she loves'
me' -
Tanya.

Tanya love me.

Marco.

I'm back on track.
The tracks.

lately' ...

I live off of this energy.
I channel my secrets.
But not you, Tanya.
I love do.
And crazily.
But so soft / warm.
My beauty resonates with honor.
How I love thee.

That 'to inspire such a woman.

Of great.
Great.
Beauty.

The fog lifts from all gods lap
up into the heavens
and I fall back down to earth.

Just to eat the seed'
of a childs
bread, Marco.

You shall conquer the demon'
that conquering...
you've won.
Already won
this lottery of emotional setbacks
and withdrawal.

Standing there upright, Marco.
Stand straight;
stand up straight.
My friend.
Marco -

The edification' of sainthood

Shut my eyes -
relax.
...and to think of
magic lands.
Magical heights.
Orgasm.
what might be.
Marco - smiling.
You're a lot like me Tanya.
You're a lot like me Tanya.

brown bear

brown bear
what do you see?

these tender words

the gentle pasture of being here
in the nest
of tender love.
Why I hate you?
Why you hate hated hating me, Marco.
For no other reason!

and in some unordinary fashion'

...the indregients are:
TI-ME

Blue

...

Light.


Flashing over me.
I'm Melting.

Melt me... now

-melt me.

Watch me-

melt.

Melting.

I've melted.

Already.

sweety pop / private moments

and unspecific replacement of these words;
that begin in reality-checking. The ultimate voice.


I felt so safe and cozy
in the bed today
with you my sex kitty.
That I love.
Tanya -
you vixen.
You beautiful, beautiful lover.
A generous offer of my words;
for the opposite' of my bedside.
You lay next to me.

And my dream scenario is that we sizzle like
boiling sweet rich thick
chocolate
ice cream.

On the highest mountain

on earth's great land.
I pry to pray upon.
Be with the night stars.
Marco -
take off the belt in no danger.
And remove the tie.
It's time to pray a lullaby.

in this spirit of dreams...

I have wandered.
I have asked myself to hold her secretly.
Upon nothing else I find as true, tanya has.
And for the further I proclaim my love;
I go backwards.
I move into the shape of my port-wine.
while I let in her love.
while I forget the devil charming -laughed.
As I travel this spirit of dreams. - . - . - .

the hobby of my prof-fession

I feed off of this instinct for you, Marco.
I love it!
The Tanya I know adores.
In the deepest part of this forest of dreams...
lay claim to 'know' mystery.'
And how well I've been founded on this ladder.
An escape exit?
Nowhere I clam for such wreckage on.

when absurdity hidden' beneath

... there's a fashion for continuing.
( No narrative.)
Only the finest of gifts.
Riding on horse back,
Marco.

Super model extrodinaire

I want you to tear my heart out; and
show it to me, Marco!
I want you to love her like you've never
loved anyone.
Truly anyone else.
You're the best.
Tanya.
Tanya. -
Teaching a pigeon to fly?
And I mask this . . .
wearing black.
I'd give you the shirt off my back,
dear lover of mine.
I see you on the catwalk.
I share my disappointment.
Marco.

Permission Granted

I've recieved you - spiritually.
This labor of love;
not lost so.
...
. . .
My genuine nature -
filled with burning desire . . .
completed, Marco.
But above all
Im relieved-
Tanya my love.
Sharing this
great-dissapointing
true sell.
Swelling -
swelling.
Tampered.

Mercy - ...in real time'

Covered in tracks...
this crossfire of emotions.
Blankets.
Grading my responsibility.
That behavior;
personality.
To kill.
On board.
To board the ship -
and
exit.
I've happened ...-
not to realize
or completely understand.
My inhibitions to dream.
All in the alphapetical order of tightening;
knots.
That you surrender, Marco.
In captivity.
With you Tanya.
'Tanya.
My love/.
A'
a sweet look that your life gives.
Marco I have the power.
Sweet heaven.
I'm more tempted to resist thinking
anything.
But to sail the ship of dreams
isn't a mechanism.

There's no power greater'

The imagination is more important then
knowledge?
Fine Einstein.
Then tell me about rejection.
The behavior that modifies a contect
to reasoning.
I contest the context we're in.

My darling, Tanya.

Heart Attacking

I've made this a conscious effort.
Unlike'
the past.

But I have a nose for heart ache.

My sweat is largely vulnerable
to such novelty of confession.
But marco...
yes - Marco.

You very well know that when Jesus listens.

And in this arena between thought and a -
pardox.

The man in you.
Met me.

Perhaps another idea of not backing down.
Or -
perhaps another idea of failure to present my true
feelings.

What I truly feel - is the thought of how passionate
I have been blessed with.

Do I have any idea of losing control over emotions;
the battle of crying like a boy for who I have no candy.

No candy for you little boy. What are you. Crying.

Marco doesn't cry like that anymore. A man of few.

There's a fork in the road
that I followed to get here again.

Tanya.

No longer a victim.
I refuse to answer.

And I feel it in me.

The answer: is to survive.
No loss prevention.

Now I hear my ego talking back.
The answer(s) I used to give.
You're not worth it, marco.
Marco, you'll never be good enough.
Stop trying so hard.

Tonight I instead participate in the ruins of
my emotions set free.

God willing, the height of my emotions.

Joy.

Marco.

Amen -

P.S. The scent of a flower implodes all sensibility I have.
Remembering to act anonymous.

The psychiatrists chair'

You there.
Yes, over there.
I see you in the reflection of my mirror.
Now that?
Not yet this!
I am too old for child play.
So. . .
what if the reader has heart trouble.

Avalanche and frost bite

This is an untitled view of the hemisphere.
I told myself what not to expect.
And what else then to expect?
You masochist of words.
You sadistic evil weather.

Killing time

Something told me to write this out front.
In the field of time.
Where no time exists!?
But listening to the sadness;
that echoing sound.
LISTEN.

From the depth of my shadow-figure are. . .
bones -licking my skull. . .
inches of the image.

Inches - inches.

My "no mystery" beyond time.

This conscious framework of sanity.
Longevity.
Personal refuge of emotional suffering.

It all began here.
And now I needn't rest.

The weather is fine.

It's killing time.