on a cool summer night

breeze.

the stars are out, and the clouds are
nowhere in sight.
the stars shine bright.

it's quite brisk on this
cool summer night.

breeze.

i can stay here forever wrapped
in your embrace,
kisses on your face.

i'd rather be in
no other place.

breeze.

the music of the season playing
into our ears.
there's nothing to fear.

just as long as we
hold each other near.

breeze.

the pale moonlight bathes the bay.
the mists move in at the end of the day.
and we realize both we have none to say.

breeze.

funny how we find ourselves wanting
on a cool summer night where the silence is haunting.

and the tension in the air is almost as it's taunting.

breeze.

taking pictures

i wonder why i don't have
many pictures of either of us
because i actually do
like looking at pictures.

i guess i like knowing
that you'll always be there
on that slip of paper
despite any situation.

i know that even when
we're not taking pictures
you'll make me smile
because you're just like that.

it's even better when
i see you face-to-face
since then, we have smiles
plastered on both our faces.

and by that time,
we'll have taken countless
pictures in our heads,
ingrained in our memories forever.

taking pictures is
one of my favorite
hobbies --
especially when i'm with you.

i just planned the rest of my life

i just planned the rest of my life
by clicking "submit" on the
online registration of classes.

i am going to be a linguist.

i've never been so certain
of anything so big and demanding
but it looked good at the time
so here i go with half of my fall schedule in place

and the beginning of the rest of my life in place

check the appropriate box for
the major you are declaring,
said the form

and who knew i had to fill out a form
for intention
of declaration
for concentration?

college is halfway done,
but my life's still just begun.

the weather's nice

the weather's nice, it's been warm these past few days
i never thought i'd have to wear shorts this early
and i thought that being in berkeley would leave my wardrobe
with jackets and spoortcoats and sweaters so burly

the arrival of the heat signals the arrival of the skin
bits of fabric covering strategic places
sororiticians and girls who can pull it off
not to mention i'd rather look at those than their faces

but that's when it's noon and it's fine and dandy
to walk around campus on flips and on flops
but if it's eighty degrees in my fucking apartment
one little bite and morality drops

because i've heard many people say that they're horny
i guess that comes with the coming of spring
i don't want to hear it since it doesn't concern me
nor do i want to hear much about how they do their thing

it's still eighty degrees, the fan's on, window's open
there's no breeze to blow, nor relief that's in sight
so i crack open a beer and sit out where the moon is
because i might as well enjoy the yellow moonlight

summer in berkeley's a thing to behold
the things you will see you will never forget
from tour groups to telegraph to bums in the street
to dogs wearing glasses or a tie-dye dining set

but it's only the spring and it feels somewhat wrong
to feel this warm and to feel so nice
it rained for a bit just a few days ago
but i fathom a few days of rain would suffice

since it gives me more time to think about us
and what we'll be doing in a few days' time
i guess we'll sleep in and you'll kiss my cheek
as i write and recite my pointless summer rhyme

now a cool breeze is blowing and it smells like laundry
the room is still warm but it's better, at least
i will see you soon, in fine weather, i'm hoping --
now what rhymes with hoping? kiss. oh, you silly beast.

lullaby kisses

if i weren't so scared,
i would tell you right now that
you just make me smile.

i would like to kiss
every inch of your body
bit by bit by bit.

i know that you're not
but i tend to think sometimes
you're torturing me.

you torture me by
plainly acting like yourself
and i melt in that.

music on paper.
you lift my melodies up
and sing me to sleep.

lullaby kisses
and sweet, sweet satisfaction
make you feel so good.

refusal

there's a certain feeling of

empowerment

that comes with saying
NO.
nothing lost;
in fact,
everything to gain.
but i think the matter
comes in the latter
when the chit-chit-chatter
gets fatter and fatter
until, of course,
the NO comes.

NO.

feeling great.

and no remorse. how awesome?
very awesome.

NO.

fantastic word to say.

they say

he said, she said
gossip this, rumor that.

well i heard from him
and he heard from her
who's best friends with her
and she knew him
and so he told her
and she told him
and then it got to me

you expect me to believe this?

but seriously she told me
and then i tried to keep
my mouth shut
but she didn't, oh
that bitch didn't
so she told him
and he told her
and she told her
and she told him
and he told her
and she told him
and he told him
and he told her

no. he didn't.

it's what i heard.

crying

i've wondered sometimes
that when it rains
is it god crying?

i can only imagine what he cries about.

broken hearts, broken dreams.
shattered hopes, lack of faith.
i think he cries because there
is no more hope.

whenever the skies turn grey,
and whenever i smell the earth
churning in anticipation,
god's about to cry.

he's been doing it a lot more often these days.

and i would think
those are just the
little things.

don't cry, god.
we don't have a big enough tissue.

happy birthday hitler

the terrorists are winning.

day by day,
countless lives are being taken away
for the sheer display
of guns and
i'm better than you.

afghanistan
iraq
vietnam
korea
devastated.

people die everywhere.
but not when they're
supposed to.

big-eared nepotistic presidents
control the balance of the nation
and ultimately, the world
and that is so harrowing to say.

we're not playing any games here.

day by day by day
we live more and more in fear
pointing fingers
placing blame on whomever wants to take it.

and somewhere,
a half-german nazi with a square for a mustache
is smiling
because fear is starting to win.

happy birthday, hitler.
the terrorists are winning.

every time i talk to you over the phone

every time i talk to you over the phone
my hands get cold
my forehead starts to sweat
and my heart beats faster
like it's a fight-or-flight response

i've known you for two years,
but i still get butterflies when i hear your voice.

i just imagine your lips moving
producing those sounds
kissing me with those waves of noise
that come through with clicks and blips
thanks to the telephone

it sends chills down my spine.
you do it
every time i talk to you over the phone

i think it would have been better

i think it would have been better
if i just told you i loved you
right from the start
because i'm a huge coward
and i don't know how to
do that otherwise
because you somehow
scare me so much
and i can't really put a finger on
how you do that to me
because every time i think
about it i shake and i almost
have a nervous breakdown
but you understand why

right?

because every time i
kiss your lips i
feel a little high.
sigh.

or every time you're in my arms
i try to ignore how you charm
just by giving me a smile.
sigh.

i think it would have been better
if i just told you from the start
that i loved you
because i wouldn't have to write this
and give it to you later
because i'm such a coward
i probably wouldn't have given it to you
anyway
now that i think about it
and now that i think about it
i shake and shake and
have a nervous breakdown
but i think
you understand why
you make me feel so high

burnout

evergettoapointwhereyoucan't
seemto
f o c u s
onanythingexceptthewonderfullybanal
andequallymeaninglesstrivialthingsthat
everydaylifetriestoofferwherethedays
blurthemselvesslowlybutsurelyandsteadily
goddamnthatsteadily

breathe. in. out. breathe.

butjustassteadilyasyoutrytohoneinand
f o c u s
yourealizethatyoucannotevendothe
simplestmenialtasksofnoconsequence
washingthedishesisaharderchorethan
changingthechannelonthetelevision
anddoingyourhomeworkisnowapastime
insteadofatimehonoredpenanceforschool
andyettimeandtimeafterwardsyoustillcannot
f o c u s

crashthenburnnotburnthencrash
butmoreoftenthannotwhatendsup
happeningtoyouisexactlythelatter
andtheformerlaughsatyoubecause
youcannotdoasinglethingaboutit

burnout

itisacommandnotadeclaration
sodoitalready

proof

looking at a bottle of some
daunting
bacardi 151.

i can just imagine
how it's going to
burn
going
down.

(and how my
liver
is going to hate me.)

i've always wondered why
proofs
of alcohol are double the percentage.

maybe it's a measure
of their worth?

what would that make
me?

at least 200, i hope.

and i wonder too

how someone looks
and thinks

"i can just imagine
how he's going to
burn
going
down."

missing

phone's ringing.

hello?

hey.

what's up?

i miss you.

me too.

just wanted to say hi.

sigh.

awkward silence.

i'll see you soon?

yeah.

phone's hung up.

sigh.
sigh.

transitory utopia.

i can smell the cigarette
you just smoked a few minutes ago.
i can see the cynicism
in your eyes, the tired look on your face.
i can feel your finger, at
this spot where you burned yourself once.
i can taste the alcohol
swirling in the bottle...
i can hear the humid night
turn a blind eye, and say 'forever.'

deeper and deeper into the darkness
i spiral out of control.
up,
gasp,
up,
gasp,
reach --

GASP

-- to no avail.

the darkness surrounds.
warmth, a smile,
a nice memory,
feeling a cold burst of air
settling on my skin.
the taste of the alcohol gets stronger.
the smoke lingers longer.

i'm so scared.

bit by bit by bit by bit
i'm in this for
i don't know anymore
and i don't care.

wisp of smoke
ash floating in the breeze of night.
transitory utopia
thanks

for taking me there.