I did not choose to love you, I am told Cause you can't help who you love. We're all prisoners here, invisible shackles taking control I did not choose to love you, I am told. I despise fate. Hate to think I'm a conquest, a figurine, extolled Shapeless drones punctured in pain by an arrow fired from distant places I did not choose to love you, I am told. Cause you cant help...who you love. -b.r.rivera #30in30 A Triolet Poem 4 of 30, April 2012.

I must disrupt this. Put a ripple to cast a thousand waves shaken by a moment. A whirlpool if no other gratified by the less reasonable gods, my nod  to the pickers of the hung backs and perhaps  plumbers ass from seeking seed from cherry.  This is my moment.  My epic John Wayne blacker than soul, blacker than hell, blacker than night to create a internal struggle with my insomniac mind teetering between dusk and when  babies suckle at their pacifiers, greeting the infamous Sandman that alludes me.  I must disrupt this. Cup of black rain and indulge what my nerves do not necessitate. I dare hesitate sniffing and grinning, my own silent treatment of alone time that I  hoard over like the last piece of meat in a dog's bowl. Do I even begin to be a little less cowgirl and more Ice cream parlor patron, sprinkling unnecessary sweet on the heavy cold world that tries to screw me over? I won't even give a strong nod to the  reason why I must sugarco...