my shell, it seems
is the only thing that is known as me
if "nothing is as nothing seems"
i'll be the nothing i am, to you, for free

i am skin
and eyes
and skull
and bone

i am hair
and fingers
and limbs, here on loan

i am a photograph
you "no heartedly" gaze
swiping and scrolling
in a "hook up fried" haze

sick of talking to another
who's talking to everyone else
"past your eyes" looking
is the new normal, game

so "marriage equality" is legal
and it doesn't mean a thing
too many "already partnered or married's"
bring such a soul sting

but back to "my shell",
attached to a name
many may know it,
but they don't know the shame.

that pulsates, pounds
with every beat of my heart
says the boy who imbibed "tragedy"
as his most drawn to, of arts

now older and wiser
in a shallow soaked world
where "bisexual" means you'll do anyone for attention
my grandma, a dog, any willing boy or girl

my shell, inside
possesses a soul
along with a heart,
but all i am is a hole

to attach any thought, you don't have
for a moment,
then on the the next,

utterly disposable.

i own it.

because i know it,
and the truth does not lie

because i see it,
played out daily.

my shell, it seems
underneath,
here, i hide.



21 march 2019
ringwald love.

see the carrot, dangled and dazzling
bobbed and weaving above your eyes
dynamic, divine, swaying, side to side
glistening, golden
its the absolute in an elusive lie

everything, it knows, you want
whether or not, you admit it, confess
the carrot, dangled, knows you in "naked"
sees through your attempts to deny it, forsake it

it is the apple, "you're eve"
or, if offended, we can call you "steve"
no matter the label, or title, here called
grab for it, bite it
begins here, "the fall"

this battle for power, of submit to "the hold"
this carrot is smart, knows your secrets untold

it wants you to want it
worship, enslaved, sit.

and wait forever, for the possibility,
it's yours
the difference defined,
through the Christ and the whores

a trickster,
with mixture,
soul drenched, light and dark

versatile, for symphonies and saran
wrapped, you, for "play time"
you, "the played", he, "the man"

what to give, to "the he" who has everything?
a family and a husband and a stable of others,
lined up, labeled, valuated, vaseline-d

what to give, is "the crawl"
that he wants
the carrot is lifeless, if not dangled,
in front

real trust is earned
in action, not words
in follow up and follow through
like blood is red and sky is blue

fuck purple.
and it's mixture of madness
you're better off in the comfort of strangers'
sheets, sadness

those without the smarts or the power of carrots
the difference between lions for lambs, mice for ferrets

do not pretzel or bend
do not grab, beg, the carrot
the secret is this,
please imprint, be aware, it

sit silent and strong
make no movement, at all.

and watch as that carrot
gets bored, then moves on.

the lesson,
the carrot was never about you
it's for those without insight
or depth, to see through

the carrot wants your power, for him
keep you salivating, in waiting
a toy, imprisoned, his whims

impalpable
and ever, just out of reach
what is practiced, presented
isn't always what's preached

before your eyes
let it fall, let it rise

know exactly who and what,
the carrot is.

and keep walking alone
your dreams,
a coveted, carrot-less man

make a wish.

(one who wants you, as much as you want him,
one unencumbered,
reciprocal heart, throbbed,
real, begin)



27 october, 2018 
ringwald love.

prisoner of the red lights.
dreams daily of setting himself free.
(too many people, not enough humans,
the streets are war zones, anyway)
one day he will.
it will be glorious to feel.
keep moving forward, and in time,
things can heal.

(so they say and so he prays, in awareness of the "ravaged within" state.)

he says,
"as far away from "the everyone's" as possible, please
all the chaos and careless, brought me to my broken and beleaguered knees"...

"but in the end I'll stand tall and silent, transcendent
as majestic, with meaning, as the ever present trees"...

that surround us all, but you sometimes have to wonder
does anyone notice, does anyone see?

just another prisoner of the red lights.
secretly  dreaming,
another life, "meant to be"

1 june 2018 ringwald love.

i wonder who little orphan annie would be
if she had seen the things i've seen
would she still be singing
"the sun'll come out tomorrow"
or would she sink into the pit,
"i want to off myself", sorrow

bitch had daddy warbucks to save her
mine never came.
my heart throb, dark angel man, savior

instead, i've been an "or-a-fist" orphan
tricked and whored
upon this alter
despair, destruct, implied, implored

the pain of being bent
over the railing, into hell
sodomized on secrets
mind, "meat-minced", to dwell.

i try to think "positive!"
but it doesn't last very long
seems i'm telling myself lies,
far too weak to stand strong

watching as all the other urchins grow
and live to say "i told you so"
"you're too negative to get what you want"
has turned me into "soft seething" sore cunt

which is beyond unattractive
and not worthy of adoption
as "you bet your bottom dollar"
takes on new meanings and options

like get me to the nearest bang,
for a buck.
barely alive still counts
as a "good enough" fuck.

as long as i'm still sort of pretty,
in the dark
us orphans, so needy
will do anything, literally, on the lark

that maybe that ship will come in and not sink
keep dreaming, keep praying
don't look back, stop to think

that maybe little annie
was a fraud,
compulsive lies, wants and whims
or maybe not,
can the happy ever conjoin to the end?

without bending and crawling
spreading, "spitballing"

who knows, gotta go,
it seems some thing, but no one, is calling....

(for me)



12 february 2019 ringwald love

SOME stranger sometimes
says something striking

ONE whisper, one time
wetted, waistband whitenings

FOUND forever fondlings
framed in fire, fulfilled, filthy

MY magic man, mysterious
a muse, in monotone, managerial
marked, my membrane, missed

INNER inkling, insights, insides
intuitive imaginings, impacts in "idolize"

HEART hauntings, hues of "home"
hopeful, heavenly, higher, him

(echoes of infinite, i am not here, alone)



16 may 2018  ringwald love

to the lengths of which
i've lost my mind
for the things we search
but cannot find

could they be found
by looking within
or is the secret found
in surrender, give in

to all that which
we cannot know
cannot perceive
once seeds are sown

some say "rent"and some say "own"
some wander in packs
while some walk alone

which one "is"
and which one "was"

the you, you believed
well, "just because"

because someone told you
that's what you were

decided, your fate
like the "should" in the "sure"

as in, are you really, so strong, underneath
to not be conditioned, like "wash, rinse, repeat"

do the same things over, and over again

like the song "saved by zero"
"maybe someday i'll win..."

but you won't
if you don't
soon awaken,
this fracture

the one that separates your "you",
from the rapture

of feeling the soul of your skin, for yourself
walk in truth, heart assured, you are nobody else

but the you
that sees things
and feels them, quite deep

misunderstood, maybe
like "the sheep" is, to seep

inside of you
then leave, true blue
wondering, this mind of yours
is it all, a lie, or truth

flashbacks, playgrounds
casual brutalities of youth
banish them, behind you
no need, "play the sleuth"

just breathe, in your confident
and bleed, then get on with it.

living in your dream
before it leaves, left, in you
a haunting vision
of what, "if only", i'd said
all the things, loving
lost, them, trapped in my head

there are many things that i can do
stripped and "salved", naked, bed

but i lay here in silence,
keeping secrets, instead



15 may 2018 ringwald love

replaying the film
in my mind
rewinding, pausing, a thousand times.

looking for traces, searching for clues.
who really, were you,
and what was the truth

like a belief in beauty, broken
vanished, gone, once come unglued

feeling i could believe in you.
oceanically deep, gorgeous to bone,
i sensed you, i thought, powerfully true.

until that truth showed itself, but illusion
your "exclusive on elusive"
became a secret telling intrusion

like the whispers from an "other",
present in the room.
showing me what i could not see,
my wanting of you, the game, you feed.

pouring my depths
as others would pour of the bullshit to impress
you'll take the rest of them, for the win
leave me in a longing, confused.
perpetual state of confess and undress.

i will become
stronger than my memory of you.

no choice, devil now known.
the best of me (heart)
for the worst of you,
proved.



written 10.30.2018