"What it is to be Male"
a observational rant, by Michael Sherrillo

I've had a revelation recently, it all stemmed from very simple observation; Guys smell. Now, as I recently found out, this isn't a secret, but at the time I didn't know. I should explain by saying that I live on a guy’s floor in a dorm. And as I walked down the hall recently to my room, my nose was assaulted by the most noxious and repulsive mix of body odors I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing. I at first though someone had broken a sink bomb on our floor, only to find it was really the stink bomb of manhood. You see, I had always know on some level that in certain specific scenarios guys smell bad, as a high school athlete, I couldn't help but be mugged by the odors of the locker room on a daily basis. But I had no idea that this was actually the general state of maleness. While in college, I now try to avoid other guy’s rooms because I found very odd and disturbing odors wafting out their doorways. But it seems that recently, an "open door" policy has began, as most of the guys now leave their doors open for most of the day as they and their roommate’s go in and out. This may make the area friendlier as we tend to talk, mix, and mingle more, it makes the hallway a venerable war zone of nasal nastiness as each rooms distinctive and uniquely putrid aromas likewise mix and mingle till they gain strength in numbers and begin to duke it out against the now 3 month unchanged glade plug-in which was our halls first, last, and only line of defence
Upon complaining of this unholy situation to many of my female friends, they matter-of-factly responded, "Of course, it's a guys hall." I couldn't help but have my chin drop. Apparently I was the only one bothered by this recent development. The fact that guy’s smell was not the secret that we males seem to pretend it is. Every day we shower (though you couldn't tell by the smell of it), soap, shave, aftershave, and just generally pretty ourselves up... all in some vain dual lived Clark Kent/superman situation where we hope that the secret identity of our stinky selves will be kept secret from those we try to get closest to. When actually, they've know about our second nature all along! Oh, the twisted webs we weave... you may wonder why smelly guys bother me, since I am a guy. Well, because there are a few of us who actually care and spend a little bit of effort trying not to smell, we haven't given our nasal system the chance to build up an immunity to the stinging breath of Satan you call B.O. My window is always open, fan on, and scented candles at the ready to ensure that my room smells as much like a fresh ocean breeze as possible. So, because of my consideration for any visitors, friends, and other hall mates, I have to hold my breath as I sprint from the doorway, eyes watering, to the relative safety of my little slice of home and hope that I don't accidentally take a breath and pass out on the way. I wonder now how girls make it in our halls and rooms as frequently as they do, and I have a hypothesis whereby they coat themselves in a smell-protective feminine bubble of peach body lotion and designer perfume, which acts as a temporary shield/filter which makes our otherwise fatal atmosphere breathable. Tests are currently being conducted to verify.

"On Death and Morning"
a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

Sunlight sprouts on hilltops far.
Growing, it reaches for the sky,
Giving birth unto the dawn.
Lighting early mornings night.

Pushing forth it's golden head,
this brillant sliver ignites the sky.
Smoking clouds now burn bright red,
and in the silent fire, die.

Ashes now, floating high,
Are all of the night which do remain.
As the newborn sun, on it's blue playground,
begins it's journey across the day.

"Lock 'n Key"
a random though, by Michael Sherrillo

You've entered the lock of my heart.
I now only await the sweet turn of your kiss,
To see if true love's doors will open.

"Above Me"
a short story, by Michael Sherrillo

High above me you sit, like a princess from a storybook. Even from below, I can see you beauty, blinded at first by it's force, thinking I'd gazed mistakenly up at the sun. Then, slowly you come into focus, framed up there against the bright sky and drifting clouds. I blink once, twice to make sure my eyes arn't decieving me. Each closing, the few seconds you spend out of my sight, seem to last far to long; and still your there. Details begin to come into focus, hair, the color and texture of cornsilk, being swept back by the hight softly blowing breeze. The way you seem to radiate a light of your own, skin softly glowing with beauty. Eye's, even from here I can tell how captivating they are. They are not the type eyes you merely look at, these are the eyes you fall into, lost and drowning in their and depths, only to be resurrected by their passion and honesty. If true beauty lay in the soul, then for the first time in my life, I believe I have seen somthing truly beautiful. I can only reach up in a futil gesture, wishing you gaze could see me, down here, so very far below. But even if you were here next to me, a part of me knows that I could never truly touch where you exist. The look on your face, I know that we are two lonly travelers of the same sort, each passing through life, hoping to find that one thing which we can cling to, to anchor our wandering souls as we drift on the currents of time. Could you ever see me... somehow I think not, I am just a passing shadow in your eyes. To be worthy of you glance, I need more than just to love you. A glass slipper, a slayed dragon, or a perfect kiss while you sleep; these are the tokens which should win you. You deserve a knight, a prince, a hero... not me. I have no greater desire than to spend the rest of my life, standing in this very spot seeing you. But, like the fading changing beauty of seasons passing, so do you anwser some silent call, and all to quickly vanish from view. I stand for a while longer, just gazing up at the spot where you once were. Maybe minuets, maybe hours, time left long ago, but as the shadows grew long and the wind grew brisk, I felt the tug of the world calling me back. So, pulling my coat a little tighter against the twilight's chill, I turned away, and without looking back, walked on. Only to late would I feel the sensation of being watched, longed for, of being silently called. But before I could turn back, I knew it was gone. Had I looked, I would only have seen the slight sway of a curtain falling back into place. As I walked, I could almost see the building and the single lit window on it's top floor slowy shrinking and fading from view, until I finally turned a last corner, and they were gone behind me forever. The current of time pulled on, and each of us, wandering, lost, drifting, and alone... were swallowed by the darkness of the encroaching night.

"On Birthdays"
a thought, by Michael Sherrillo

We only age in retrospect.

"Flight or Folly"
a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

So fast, while never seeming fast enough.
So quick, but feeling so slow.
My heart can't decide, it races and stop,
At the very sight of you.

Like a bird, trying to take off on a lake;
Wings beating as we quickly gain speed.
The spark I see in your eyes, has jump into my life,
And igniting, set my spirit aflame.

Faster and faster, we speed down our course,
Will we crash, or will our hearts join and soar free?
You make me smile, and laugh like a child,
With you, I feel I can be me.

With a destiney unknown, and a fate which awaits,
We purposefully spread open our wings.
Since you've entered my life, all these new feelings have arrived,
As you've opend your heart to me.

Without any final care, we lift into the air,
As love sets our souls free.

"First Morning"
a haiku, by Michael Sherillo

First thing this morning,
Before I opened my eyes,
You were on my mind.

And the night before,
While I drifted into sleep,
My last thought's of you.

What you mean to me,
What you touch has created;
So frighting, so new.

"Sharing"
a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

You say a million sweet and cute things.
You mean them with all of your heart.
But I never seem to do the same for you,
I never can find the right way to start.

How can I find words to describe,
All the amazing parts of you I see?
It's like trying to tell a man born blind,
Of beauty as the sun sets into the sea.

The warmth of your soul,
The soft touch of your laugh,
Or the way your presence
Sweeps me off of my feet?
I cannot imagine any possible words,
Expressing what it is in you I see.

Maybe because, in my heart I'm afraid
These feelings might not be returned or recieved.
Or maybe the thought, of scaring you off
Is what now locks my lips so complete.

But I feel a connection, clear and strong
Something special between you and me.
I only hope that we can enjoy it together
And between us, discover the beauty we seek.

"Far"
a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

So close, and yet so far away,
My neighbor across the street.
Why is it a few yards of air,
Feels more like miles of concrete?
Because, as my heart reaches out to yours,
You quietly, peacefully, sleep.

All I need do is pick up the phone,
to rouse you from Sandman's keep.
But I think it'd be best,
If I just followed suit,
Since I know I'll see you
In my dreams.

"Waiting"
a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

Each night I've had
a dozen plans,
and cancelled every one.
Hoping this night
I'll have the chance
to hold you in my arms.