Stephen R.
For himself:
Wake up,
Check the locks on the door,
Hear the ticks of the clock,
Check the locks once more.
Repetition assures me.
Repetition feels safe.
Repetition makes perfect.
.

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two, three, four

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two, three, four

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two, three, four
The bills remain;
Sitting stagnant in my wallet,
Seven of them nestled in my right back pocket.
Three more times,
I check on their loyalty,
Make sure of their chaste and undying devotion.
For, currency does not cheat,
Nor is she some cheap one night romance.
Tangible, Reliable, she lusts only for my hands.

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two three, four

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two, three, four

Twenty, forty, sixty, one, two, three, four
Alas! She waits for me faithfully once again.
Quelled at the thought,
Flattered at the notion,
My heart starts to lament of the strangest emotion.
Sure, oh sure!
My green darlings still adore.
But what of the backstabbing locks on the door?
Kevin K:
For himself:
From childhood on, everyone saw a unique quality to me.
“He is sensitive.”
“He is artistic.”
Adolescence made me realize the anomaly;
But, society deemed homosexuality a sin,
And so,
I got lost in misery trying to be straight;
For my parents,
For myself,
for you.
I watched the faces blur past me, in their normal grace.
Always burning,
Always yearning,
to take their place.
Jennifer K.
For herself:
Shunned for my sexuality;
Defined by the promiscuity of my past,
I never reveal the potential of my person.
I slip into one poor judgment that paves the path for hundreds,
if not thousands.
My conscience stopped counting.
I break free from the guidelines of my parents and my parents’ parents.
I break my soul in the process.
One time, I told myself.
Just one last time,
To pay for school,
and never again.
But I pay my price for prosperity.
That is the problem with such petty self proclamations.
When times get adverse,
I know my body will become His,
And His,
And His;
One last time,
I tell myself again.
I gaze at the girl in the mirror,
Take off all my clothes,
and sink into the abyss.
Stephen R.
For Jennifer K:
Torture epitomizes the lamenting lover’s soul.
Torture consumes the obsessive mind.
You and I,
We are two of a kind.

One, two, three, four

One, two, three, four

One, two three, four
I count rosy pink petals.
I need their insight.
I need to know if you feel the warmth of lover’s light.
I check once more.

She loves me.
The signs tell me seven times.
I want to hear them seven more.
Jennifer K.
For the world:
Medicate.
Medicate.
Medicating myself, I repeat the cycle infinitely.
Misery,
Misery,
Absorbing myself in misery, I feel the makings of humanity.
Cheap, worn, and withered.
I am a tired flower that never had the chance to bloom.
My petals are dried up.
My future has only one end.
I feel the wind about to break me,
Then I cut myself from the stem.
Goodbye.
Kevin K.
For Stephen R:
I kept the pack of cigarettes you gave me,
I often hold them close when I feel alone,
I despise smoking, but
Anything from you is enough for me.
You are the candlelight in this dim lit space.
You are the truth I have to face;
The truth I cannot turn away.
Man to man,
I hope you understand…
As children, we imagined the most foreign of lands,
with fog and bogs and fairies.
We played until the streetlights radiated the night.
We played until our hearts and legs grew tired.
We had no care about future or past.
We only saw the happiness before us,
In those magical childhood lands…
Three simple one syllable words,
Mean so much,
Three words;
not enough.
You have me caught in your every flaw and grace;
Everyone else fades away to gray.
You shine brighter than the sun;
Glow more obsessively than the moon.
Man to man,
I hope you understand,
Why I fell in love with you.
Stephen R.
For Jennifer K:
Your shades grew withered and worn.
The world rejected your thorns.
You bled purity in your flawed grace.
You tried to make sense of the entropy.
The heart of your brother wants me.
The heart of your admirer needs you.
You gave up.
Adversity swallowed you, you did not pull through.
You could not make sense of the entropy.
You left.
You left me.
Counting the memories,
Remembering,
The lines in your smile,
The smell of your hair,
Nights we lost in the stars,
Interlacing fingers,
The sound of “I love you”,
The promise of forever,
Your warmth,
Your essence,
The knocks on the door,
The words “She’s dead.”,
The mourning,
The questions,
Never getting the answers,
The dwelling,
The forgetting,
the moving on.
I try to make sense of the entropy.