driving my love for you
into
the *******
ground

I close my eyes and feel the sun come untucked from the clouds,
bleeding blood orange through my eyelids.

No one really knows you and I the way we know our footsteps,
coming home across wood floors late at night.

The way we used to sit on windowsills,
or crosslegged across from one another on your bed.

Our arms sank into the crevices of one another,
I wanted to feel the weight of you to crush me,
if only just to feel the peace of the street.

she compares her sweet tooth
to that of a good long scream,
the kind where your throat hurts a little after
and your eyes water,
the type of scream where your neighbors start to wonder
if either you’ve been murdered,
or you've just had the best ****** of your life,
because it sounds just a little too pleasureful
to be the sound of of an inevitable death.

small cheap rooms where you walk
down the hall to the
bathroom can seem romantic to
a young writer.
even the rejection slips are
amusing because you are sure that
you are
one of the best.

but while sitting there
looking across the room
at the portable typer
waiting for you on the table
you are really
in a sense
insane

as you wait for
one more night to arrive to sit and
type Immortal Words--but now you
just sit and think about it
on your first afternoon in a strange city.

looking over at the door you
almost
expect a beautiful woman to walk in.

being young
helps get you through
many senseless and terrible
days.

being old
does
too.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

You throw your words at me,
and I'll catch them
with light hands
each time.

My blankets full of things,
I like to
hide beneath
during the night.

If we are to ever to end,
you will remember me
for how many times
I hurt you.

And I will remember
the way you always kept
the knife
beneath my neck.