I’m so tired but mostly from you
I am tired of other things too
By other things, too
You are not the only thing on my mind
but you take up most of the vacancy
and everything else is pushed to the sides and pressing against my ears
christ I can hardly hear

I am so sore but I keep walking like my shoes aren’t too tight
like my dress looks fine
like it’s not riding up the back of my butt and exposing my ass for all the city to see
this is not happening instead I am busy slideshowing myself
the first time we met then the second time we met
then I am fast forwarding to when we first had sex and how I was so loud
your grandma hated me after that

I am so busy but the papers keep stacking
and I’m just some filthy college slut who can hardly handle her final critiques
all I want to do is call you and hope you’ll eagerly pick up
or even want to pick up
or even pick up
but instead all that is between us is a missed call that I can’t take back
and a bunch of papers that I have to examine with amazing skill
I know I don’t have

I should get my priorities straight, the bathub is grimy
my nails are bloody
my grandmother is sick
I am not a kid anymore and you are not my boyfriend
and what we had was really quite terrible and how
dare I sentimentalize a kiss on the cheek or a squeezing of hips to mean
that you promise to love me eternally how dare I act as though I am fourteen
with braces of steel and a heart made of mush and a brain filled with lies from
dramatized shows flickering in my room in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and my periods heavy and my arms are too fat along with my thighs and I’m thinking of true love and when I’ll get that

It’s quite hard to concentrate
the cement has cracks
my forehead is sweaty and my face is red
it is hot outside and wish you were here to lick the sweat off my chest and boldly say
“does that feel good baby”  but you’d say it in such a boyish way but I would still get turned on but I hate you now because I am too busy for you to be all over my mind when I have other things to do it’s all your fault if I fail out of college it’s all your fault if I don’t get the masters program I wanted and it’s all your fault I can’t concentrate at all
the sky is gray and work is shitty and the missed call is still pending and blinking and buzzing on your phone
I’m sure you notice it and I’m sure you’re home and free and able to see that
calling me back would make me happy
I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called god!
you haven’t been in my bedroom in over a month
and I haven’t cried either
and I haven’t gossiped about you to any of my friends
the paint is wet on the canvas
and my jaw is clenched
and I am thinking of you and that is all

I was fifteen when my father was knighted and we moved to an estate near the castle
I began working in the court as his squire. The months speed as I learn. I sharpen swords and shine boots; I listened to the servants stories of court gossip and political intrigue. My favorite though was the court magician who talked about lightning and planets. I knew each constellation in the night sky. I was sixteen and my father was killed. The older ones were afraid of me then. All the boys in the castle met in front of the blacksmiths forge after chores were finished. We fought each other sometimes one on one, other times in piles of bodies and limbs. Black eyes, split lips and broken knuckles were common. In fact a visiting duke once noticed out loud about all the servant boys having black eyes. They were badges of honor of course. Worn with pride.
Sometimes we would sneak into the cellar and drink ale. I was a boy without a care in the world until I turned seventeen years of age. One night I escaped the castle with my bow to hunt. A storm came off of the sea, I had not noticed it rolling in but it struck with fury. I was lost and soaking wet and the cold was setting in. Lightning flashed and I could no longer see the moon.
Something attacked me. I remember nothing of it except awaking later leaned against the castle wall. No marks on my body. I became violent and detached. I shattered the jaw of a boy one afternoon. All the court laundry girls were watching us from the windows, and he cursed my father. I was blind with rage, and it was beautiful. I never felt so alive in my life. I could smell the sweat of the boy as I slammed a right hook into his jawline. I could smell the blood and it's sensual dripping warmth on my knuckles. It took every bit of strength not to lick it from my hand. I dreamed of it that night in my room. It's aroma melded with the memories already as clear as a painting in my mind. Each detail elongated and dramatized with a feral edge.
The dreams were haunting at first, but I soon relished them. I dream of the moon first always reflecting in the lake brimmed by ancient pines. Then I was chasing a deer or a rabbit through the brambles and down old paths that only beasts know. Then, the taste of warm blood in my mouth, the pulsing of lifeblood beneath my teeth.

The moon always reflected the true moon in the sky that night. Until, on the full moon. I was lying in my bed, hoping for the pleasure of the dreams again. I was warm all at once and colors began to brighten. Then it seemed as if daylight were pouring in through the window although surely it was the moon. I gazed at her. Until within me the locks began to break, and it seemed as if chains were falling from my being. Until blackness, so infinite and complete filled with the most terrible and beautiful visions I had ever experienced.
I could taste everything in the universe and I watched the wind blow through the pines from a tall rock rustling the needles into a symphony of movement and sound. Such beauty I have never known. Then a golden flash between the trees.
An old buck moved through the boughs. I tested his scent on the wind he smelled of earth and roots. Then I am chasing him.
Into a clearing he staggers as I toy with him. He breaths deeply, his sides heaving. I can see his hot breath as a cloud in the cold air. Then his cry, and the spray arterial. The taste of life.

I awaken leaned naked against a pine. Claw marks adorn the trunks of the great trees around me. Deep claw marks as if a bear...
I was terrified
I was alone

I work in the stables. I lock myself away on the full moons, but I feel guilt  for the pleasure of my dreams. As if they were tangible sins.
Then the kings daughter visited me and asked about the foal that was born earlier that morning. She was curt and spoke down to me. My chest was hot. I was nervous that I would insult her and be executed. We watched the newborn stand next to its mother. I thought she was watching me from the corner of her eye, but her next words proved me wrong."How dare you look at me, slave."
She returned the next day, and the next each day she seemed more angry than the last. She and her handmaid wanted horses readied for a ride. The king arrived and I dropped to my knee in respect and fear. "You boy will protect these girls as they ride."
The hole in my chest fills with melted iron, as the young princess thanks her father with a kiss on the cheek. He leaves and my anger is complete. She will have me killed; damned girls will probably ride directly down a hill and break a neck. Then who shall be blamed

They controlled the horses in a strangely feminine manner. Their sweet purring to the horses made them flick their ears. Their light touch turning the great beasts with ease. Such beauty I had never seen. Their delicate figures like full bloomed flowers and the hanging tassels of silk blow in the wind. Her scent...unmistakable.
She watched me.

The night before the full moon I was slipping into the beauty of the dreams. Sleep pulled me downward, and suddenly a small rap on the door.
I fully expected guards upon the other side. They somehow had found out I was the beast and Would cut my head from my shoulders.
My heart races as the door opens. A shadow slips inside as I crack the door. It pushes past me. The scent...
She stands in the moonlight of the window with dark eyes piercing. Thank the gods it was not a full moon.
I light a small lamp with shaking hands and she slides towards me, removing her dark cloak showing her nightdress. The curves of her body...not left up to the imagination against the silk nightdress.
My head swims, and the beast inside me sniffs the air and growls deeply. She pushes herself against me, but my mind races to the headsman's axe and the kings eyes.
I push her away and hand her her cloak. Telling her it was much too late for such foolishness.
I am a slave after all...

I could not sleep
but the dreams slipped in anyway
Like leaves in the wind they twist and float
Pulling me into their strange likeness
I am enthralled by the the scent of a nightdress
And the warmth of a body pressed against me
In moonlight I am bathed
My hands with blood soaked

She does not visit me at the stall, and I do not see her face peaking at us from the tower window as we wrestle in the courtyard.
Inside me a strange ache at her absence. I drink ale that night and stumble to my room. The door I forget to lock, and the windows swung wide.
So cloudy
I could not stop
The feeling so pure
I could not banish it

She was found by her handmaiden in pieces around the bedroom. Her white night dress shredded and stained scarlet.
Twenty dead guards each one with bites to the throat or their heads smashed. As if some bear they whispered...
I was found naked out in the wheat fields covered in blood. They followed the path straight to me.

He stands before the king making his statement
Explaining how he was attacked by some beast
Only two months 'ore. He explains how he could not control.
The king shakes with rage. A black cover is brought to hide his face.
He goes quietly to the block and death. His body burned to ash

gloomy girl. pretty.
seated at low table
someone comments. she replies.

(look over
take a few steps forward)
"i bet i can make you smile"

(looks up.)

"i bet you a kiss on the cheek, right here, right now, i can make you smile-
here slap me-"

"what!?"

"go ahead, slap me, right here in the face- right on the cheek."

"i'm not going to slap you!"

"why not? you're just gonna kiss it and make it better anyways."
(pause. raise eyebrows. crooked smile.)


(she smiles. tries to hide it with her hands. head down. giggling.)

(kiss her on the cheek quickly and purposefully. get up swiftly in an over dramatized acrobatic display. dart away.)

After history
something to do
with the Munich Putsch

in 1923
and going out
on to the school

playing field
Rolland said
That hot lips chick

is waving to you
from the outer fence
and so off you went

leaving Rolland
to go kick ball
with others on the field

and as you strolled
towards Christina
she came towards you

leaving her giggling friends
behind and met you
half way on the field

and said
I dreamed of you last night
her voice floated

around you
for a moment or two
and you saw across

her shoulder
Rolland head the ball
towards the goal

between two jumpers left
on the ground
then looked back at her

standing there
bright eyed
with her dark brown hair

and you said
Did I behave?
And she took your hand

and walked you across
the field slowly
and replied

Of course you did
Oh good
you said

wishing you could
have shared her dream
making it your own

she squeezed your hand
and said
Do you dream of me?

Yes
you said
Most nights

trying to make the lie
convincing you dramatized
a scene that never happened

and she smiled
and laughed
and you noticed

out of the corner
of your eye
Rolland kicking the ball

goal ward and waving
his hand then
having reached

the boundary of the field
at the wood’s edge
she kissed you

on the cheek and said
I’m glad you dream
of me as well

and smiled
and lay her head
upon your arm

and soon you knew
the bell would ring
for end of play  

and maybe
you thought
smelling her perfume

and shampooed hair
kissing her head
you might

dream of her
for the first time
tonight.

I have switched to mechanics
The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse
The organic matter is dying just
Artificial forced relationships
With penetrative remarks

The tiny prism in the back of my mind
Where I can not stake out the feelings
It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing
Those white walls are suppose to fool you
Repudiating that they are of silence


Do not placate me young sir
I know that’s were things come to a halt
You enlist them into your nihilistic theories
They can not see cyclical processes
The influxes of hysteria
that inevitably ward out the insurgency

No you claim them among the broken
Make them scared of large boxes with no windows
But does it even matter
The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow


The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me
Can she not see the rampant fires?
The cages that are cracking
As the mice turn on each other

Or is it calculated
Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere
You remind me of my mother
and the United States government

The will call my a conspirator
But ill know you never landed on the moon
And even if you did
You didn’t caress its very surface  

You didn’t risk your life
to just inhale the fumes of a memorial
It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you
No matter how much you sing about it

And what for me?
I could fix you in one splash of a recall  
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack
And the turnstiles
can’t see color anymore

I am growing blinder everyday
But I can never find my oracle under all this rubbish  
He has possessed me that
Flying gingerbread monkey

Before this I liked solidarity
Juggling my own fortunes
My own soggy breath fill up the window signs  

Now I am a menacing
Ravished house beast
Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts
This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for

But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant
Populously used factoids over martinis
God know me and the monkey are socially retarded

As this thing of forsaken design
has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception
We must talk about the alcohol.
Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle
no worries it will have friends

Should I be concerned about my physical stability?
Not really I rather like bisecting my liver
and pouring to the brim
No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed
Why else would AA be so giggly?

I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain
I won’t give up the dream
and succumb to a lobotomy
Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur

This is worse then the torah
A bigger degradation then the bible
If only I had cried for the proletariat
Then I would be famous

But even though the trances are fun
And the posterior eradicating
OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You!

And I do mourn in some postulated manner
for the orphans
But they would have made it out of their capsules
if you just gave them time

Iguana of diamonds,
Sand sea and sun,
Little children in sight,
Attractions of light,
Natives of love,
Decorative cities, what night.

Island’s of the Bahamas beauty as can be,
What more fun than playing with dolphins in the sea.
Creative costumes, dancers so bright,
The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Nothing more beautiful than the island themselves,
Well except the people willing to give help.
Pineapples, peas and rice, pink sand, flamingoes, and some conch salad,
Not forgetting the “KALIK,” cause’ “IT’S A BAHAMIAN TING”.
Blue, Black and Aquamarine, was just described to you,
All in the Islands Love.
Come and enjoy the exciting experience too!
My Bahama Land!

©

The acoustic guitar plays softly, in the background of a critiqued ball room as he made his entrance. The attention of the audience fell upon him; As he walked readily towards the dance floor, The melody of the flute and the rhythm of the bass guitar, Dramatized his beauty. The spectators in fear, but his passion so real, As I stared into his eyes, that made beauty felt unreal everything else that surrounded me disappeared. He focused his eyes on the dance floor they began to whisper; Who will he choose? Who has to leave now? He flashed his eyes upon the viewers that were once in shock, now in terror, but their facial expression in awe. The apothegm states that he continually seeks for the one that would heal his disease but bound to the power of the earth’s forces, his determined, stunning eyes will never be able to reveal, the secret one that can heal. The bass drums play wildly as he shows the crowd his fury. The once stunned viewers now begin to panic, but I draw myself closer. Before I could reach him someone else got in the way. “I would like to die” was the words I know her to repeatedly say. He gently pushed himself away in anger. He looked around the ball room, and observed the reaction of the audience to his response. They’re now in astonishment. He then stopped and his focal point was clear. The piano and the cello played softly to become one with his voice. He said to me “let us dance.” I’m frightened, the majority of the onlookers left in a daze. My vision weakened before our dance began. He smiled, and as he looked upon my face all the instruments faded away. He said to me is this your last dance? Will you leave us tonight? I’m the kiss of death will you close your eyes forever or will you leave me in delight?”