push it down until it isn't there
blocked out
blacked out
like those years
2.5

bodies hard and sweaty in the dark
hands and tongues
reaching
searching


2.5
forget and never forgiven
but somehow you do
specks of blue
across my chest



2.5
light the night for us
betrayal
but not betrayed
for not one; but two




2.5

Your voice is like sweet ether
On a dirty kitchen rag
It calms me down
It knocks me out
Knocks me up
I am pregnant with the sound
That 6 strings produce
And the beauty of your words
The fire walkers in you
Your fingers always knew
Know?
Have known?
How to pick the smiles
From my insides
Pluck the kisses from my lips
Draw the nectar
Sweetness?
Sugar?
Out
50 Ways to turn me upside down
50 ways to be knock-the-wind-out-of-me
Put-me-back-on-my-feet
Incredible
In the beginning it was dark
And you said
"Let there be colors
Let me have a guitar"
In the beginning
God colored me
Full of red blood cells
And vitriol
Carefully
Steady hands
Inside the lines
But with shaky hands
There's so many more shades
Blooming
Cascading
Lightning strikes
And this is the last time
I swear it's the last time
I will weather these storms
My daddy said there'd be boys like you
Boys who could make it rain
You know when I'm with you
I lose my mind a little
Who is this kid?
And how is he under my skin?
He's a tattoo I don't remember getting
Maybe I was drunk
Maybe I'm in love
Whatever that is.
Dog hair on duvet covers
Avocado-flavored lollipops
Antique shops
Every song about a different girl
Like 32
24
36
Bursting at the seams till I
Can't take no more
Jackie
Madeline
Taylor
Adrienne
And probably
Certainly
Girls I've never met before
What you do to me doesn't make sense
My intestines turned up at the corners
Pelvic thrusting on the couch
A little bit louder now
A little bit louder now
The mortars are screaming
Down
I'm quickly losing the war with myself
Jericho's walls
Are crumbling
And I'm told we have nothing to fear
But fear itself
Nothing to fear but ourselves
And a boy with glasses
Writing checks that I'm afraid will bounce
Singing softly to me
On the couch

i don't hate you
i wish i did

your words tear apart my mind
and mutilate my thoughts
until dark thoughts creep back in

i want to hate you
but we've been through too much

i try not to
but i still care
i still wonder how you're doing

i want to hate you
after everything you've done

but no amount of screaming, tears,
dirty looks or passive aggressive poems
will make things the way they were before

Well, i am back,
And i gotta new rap,
My dad, i've never seen him cry,
But today has been the first time,
He snapped an said he might be leavin,
Cause my mom, she the one who always pevein,
Tryin to make us to just what she wants,
We probably lost all of our aumbiance,
She makein us mad, and not takin the blame,
She think we gonna be played like a game,
We just the pawns, she is the queen,
But we done, we retaliate, we burst right through the seams,
She doesnt seem to care about our feelings,
She takes everything and makes it into HER dealings,
She thinks she controls how or wht we do,
But we all know, dont test 'you know who'.
Cause imma snap,
Straight to full atack,
Aim to kill,
Or get your fill,
Cause imma cold killer,
Cruel blood spiller,
And this is my plight,
So do u have the sight?
The sight to see,
Just whats in me,
The stuff of legends,
That i can tell you, dont come from the heavens,
Im not from the light, im from the dark,
On an adventure i have embarked,
Dont push me anymore, or i will snap,
Go on, lock the door, before i attack.

I was there from the time you were born. I stood in
the delivery room, staring down at you before you
could even open your eyes to see me. Your
parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me
there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes,
but I was there from the time you were born.

And I followed you home.

I was with you always, your constant companion.
You played with your toys alone while I stared from
all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted
hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented
forehead like glue. I was always your constant
companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on
your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom,
but I was on the other side of the door, wind
whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My
arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I
stood hunched on the other side of the shower
curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift
behind you.

I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You
never saw me that morning as I sat across from
you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging
from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely
at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I
think you are aware, but you’ll never understand
just how close I am.

I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than
breathing in your ear.

Breathing – gagging, really.

I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my
crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever
single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling,
underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the
dark.

Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your
parents came running down to your room one
night when you screamed. You were just beginning
to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man
in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the
sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my
chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into
your closet and your mother was unable to see me
though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You
thought you’d never forget when they left that
same night. You saw the closet door crack so
softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed
on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I
pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.

You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not
quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just
waiting and following you always, touching your
face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.

You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m
coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk
across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you
with loud roar and a screech.

You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels,
bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching
your face again and again.

As you stare up from the cold pavement with
cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in
your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to
your chest.

You’ll see me approaching.

No one else will see me. You will stare past them
into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first
time in our life, something like a smile will come
over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a
mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.

I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling
people and pick you up in my crooked arms.

Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then
you’ll have to follow me.

And I am always with you.

I am your guardian angel.

After morning matinee
and after dinner
of sausages and mash
and baked beans

you met Helen
by the post office
at the end
of Rockingham Street

she had on
the red flowered dress
you liked
and held Battered Betty
her doll
by an arm

her hair was held
in plaits
by elastic bands

and her thick lens spectacles
were smeary where
she'd touched them
but not cleaned them

where are we going?
she asked
how about London Bridge
train station?
you said
we can watch the trains
come and go
and watch the porters
rush about with luggage
and things

she gazed at you
through her thick lens
shall I tell my mum
where we're going?

sure if you think
she'll worry
you said

be best if she knows
Helen said
don't want her to worry
where I've gone

ok
you said
and so you both
walked back
to her mother's house
and she told her mother
and her mother came out
and looked at you
and said
ok so long
as you're with Benedict

and so you walked back
along Rockingham Street
and got a bus
to London Bridge
railway station

and sat on the seats
downstairs
by the conductor

and this guy with glasses
and a thin moustache
gazed at Helen
from the seat opposite
his eyes moving over her
his gaze focusing
on her knees
where her dress ended
he licked his lips
his hands on his thighs

Helen looked away
pretending she didn't
see him looking
you stared at the man
watching his eyes
dark and deep
they say it's rude to stare
you said

the man looked at you
kids should be seen
not heard
he replied

and you're seeing a lot
you said
he muttered something
and got off
at the next stop
giving you
a hard stare

Helen said nothing
but seemed relieved
after a while you got off
the bus at the railway station
and went inside

there were crowds
of people
and the smell of steam
and bodies washed
and unwashed

and the sound of trains
getting ready to leave
and voices and shouts
of porters and rushing
and going and coming
of people

and you sat
with Helen
on a seat
on the platform
she with Battered Betty

and you with your
six-shooter in your
inside pocket ready
to get any bad cowboys
who came your way

and Helen said
why was that man
staring at me
on the bus?

just a creep
wanting a peep
you said

peep at what?
she asked
I'm not beautiful

yes you are
you said
anyway it wasn't
your beauty
he was looking at
you said

what then?
she asked

oh something
he oughtn't
you said

and a loud blast of steam
echoed around
the station
and a voice called
and a whistle blew

and you all
sat watching
Helen
and Battered Betty
and six-shooter
carrying cowboy
you.

The road to hereafter isn't above us in a brilliant cloudscape;
It is the footpath of a dark 8pm suburban road.
Along it are frugally scattered street lamps,
That gently ascend to a set of traffic lights within stone's throw.
The houses on each side of the road are asleep,
Few driveways shelter parked cars,
You will be walking, and it will be raining.
You will have your umbrella.
Hooded pedestrians will appear from only a few feet away,
They will be walking in the other direction.

The Minute passes me by
quite disgusted by my wailing.
Leaving as quickly as it came,
I hardly think it stays the full sixty seconds.

The Hour sinks its teeth deep into my skull
pushing shards of bone-like-regret into my ego's soft, gray matter.
There's no surgical thought to remove such an irritation.  

The Days...
Oh those god-damned Days.
They see me confused and so seize their chance;
they pull out my feet
right from under my frame,
and helpless, hurt,
I collapse to the earth.
Now begins their fun!

The Months form gangs called 'The Years'
and The Years take their turn
breaking my joints, my fingers, my knees,
all my snappable, crackable points.
Curved, crippled, creaking,  
I want to give up.
But,
it gets worse.

A dark shadow hovers over me.
I look up  as far as I can lift my heavy head
and I see coming down on me,
like a fat man resting his rump on an ant's back,
The Decades with their massive, soul crushing weight
squatting their hindquarters;
oppressively,
upon my twig-like spine.

This is a merciless beating!
This is the beat of time.

And throughout the abuse,
I crawl, cringe, cower
as safe as can be in a low state close to the ground,
(which is still six feet too high for all that time cares!)
I hear from somewhere afar
an unfaltering decree
from my maker to me
"Stand up straight! For Heaven's sake!"

wait for me

ive gone away

to some unknown place

purple night dims dark
for me

have i lost my humanity?

"here, take this pill," you say
"it'll make you better"

but pills get lodged in my
throat
tonsils swollen

i choke i choke
on
purple nights

wait for me
thats all i ask

so we can go together
down unlit paths

It all began as an observation,
a mere innocent study,
to watch people in cars,
from cars.

First, the tired workers,
who glared and stared in the road in front,
who slumped in their seats,
who held the steering wheels in a glum manner,
who had dark circles in their eyes,
who had cans of beers at the back seat,
tired, weary, drained, exhausted,spent.

The cheeky children,
who yelled at their siblings,
who wrestled with siblings,
who sat listening to lectures,
who texted with their phones,
who went tippy tappy with their laptops,
who ignored the world; reading,
innocent, busy adolescents.

Of course, there are mothers,
who glance at their sleepy children every few minutes,
who smile at their babies dotingly,
who gave loud lectures to kids,
who smoked cigars,
who was on the phone,o was just driving ahead,
loving, fussy, unleisured.

There were the out-going,
who head-banged furiously to booming music,
who sang aloud to radio,
who chatted enthusiasticly with passengers,
who smiled the whole way through the journey,
who stuck their hands out to feel the wind,
who had nothing to worry about,
free, wonderful, liberated, loose.

Also, some were fretful,
who needed to visit hospitals,
who had their heart broken,
who got rejected at interviews,
who lost someone,
who is obviously in anxiety, who were simply drunk,
worrysome, tired, sad.

And then there's me,
who had nothing better to do,
than to watch and observe,
and felt many things should be changed,
eccentric, weird.