"I love you," you said
Three times
Sober
Or, at least, after only two glasses of wine
With an expression that wanted me to see its sincerity
You thought about the way your face looked
And how I was looking at it
Which, naturally, made me suspicious
Less of whether what you said was
Or is
True
And more of whether you really believed it
I certainly don't
Although, regrettably, too big a part of me
Hopes that you do
But you won't even go out to lunch
So the concept is moot
If you dwell on me so frequently
Where are you?
Not here, in the growing rift
Between our potential and reality
Where I fume
You flatter
Whipstitching my raw edges
But your adulations can't repair
The fact that you don't know
My favorite color
My stance on religion
Or the quality that I admire most
In a friend
Negligent though you may be
I'm harsher still
On myself
Allowing you in, while I know all of this
How you must find me!
So easy
Malleable
And still I permit you
"We're alike," you say
And you tell me how you care
So little
About so much
But not when it comes to me, apparently
Or so said the lips
That have only kissed me once
Without seeking more
But I kissed you then, anyway
Knowing what would come
Freckles
Sinful dimples
The unfathomable brown eyes
For which you hold so much disdain
The slightest gap
Between your front teeth
Your encouragements didn't stir me
Already shoved
From my resolution
Before your many admittances
And rare
Melancholy musings --
These, perhaps strategic
But disorienting, nonetheless
I'll chalk it up to us finishing the bottle
Which I started
Frustrated
Half an hour before you arrived
And carve myself some apathy.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
I had a dream last night
Of being pursued by a murderer
A homicidal man, whom I'd seen ****
Again and again, with merciless vulgarity
And who hunted me like prey.
But as I fled him, he knew my habits
He foresaw my strategy to escape
He discovered me.
And in the raw terror of that exposure
Scrambling before him, in the dirt
At the height of my adrenaline
I came to a jolting, sick realization
That I was enraptured by him
And all his poison
His carnivorous mania, and blood-drenched agenda
And I felt the Hunger in his approach
And simply waited there, suspended
In that loathsome state of horrified ardency
For him to Consume me.
And it was not in the frenzied seizure of awakening
But only after a lengthy absorption, when I noticed
That I called it a dream, rather than a nightmare.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
I wish not to want you
For fear that, when I hold you,
My touch change you golden
With greedy alchemist's fingers.
I wish not to want you
And liberty, command you
From the nobility --
Metallic -- which bars you from love.
A Queen of Phrygia
I sow sin in good nature
Chest hollow for dictums
That confine my pow'r to transform
I've no eyes to covet
Yet I birth my own idols
In chambers forbidden
To those of conscience staunchly pure
I plead you, stay iron
And I'll be happily robbed
Of my talent to turn
Wretched an organic desire
I wish not to want you
As I lay my hands on you
But I have not the gift
To breathe such wishes into life.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Peace:
For the time, there is Silence.
But deep in its bowels lives a sound...
And a word yet unheard
Still holds Violence.
...Its potential for Chaos abounds.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
At moments, I fear I am a sociopath.
Do I only feel shame, love, guilt,
Empathy, when buried there at the root
Is myself?
Does this fear itself absolve me of suspicion?
Doubtful.
****
I have such icy innards.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
The ceiling fan is deafening
and my vision is as unfocused as your appeal
both spearing forward in fierce concentration
only to phase into vagueness, midway to their destination
As you continue to speak
my eyes continue to blur the scene
and I hear a series of moods, rather than words:
Anger... Anger... Injury.
Injustice, Pleading.
Righteousness. Vulnerab-- Demanding.
Reason... Reason... Reasoning.
I sit this way, fuzzing out your face
and decide it's effective, attending to your aura
selfishly shielding myself from the specificity of your language
but listening, intently listening, to your atmosphere
ringing out against the drone of that **** incessant ceiling fan.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
After one night of many nights all rolled into one
You shoot me through with one pass.
It’s a clean break as I fall into consciousness
Tumbling through unfamiliar seas of painful candor, sovereign guilt
And reckless bliss.
The weighted bullet around your neck reminds me of your careless aim
And my selfish craving to be its target.
The metal is cold against my lips and unforgiving beneath my fingers.
I cannot help but cry when it touches me, weeping with longing from one eye
While the other flows with regret.
Three pulses rust now, as my commitment turns to ash
And a scarlet phoenix blooms from the blood of a union sacrificed
Yet the irony is taunting me, as I see clearly
That I’m gunning for salvation as you engulf me in temptation.
What a dangerous pair we make, we two, the Silver Bullet Brigade
Firing round after round into the establishment
And ruining our souls as we shake to set them free.
Your newly empty chamber is still hot from its release.
I’m unstable. My exit wound is ragged.
But the smoking gun is not held in one pair of hands.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
There are certain times
I feel the need to flee
In hopes that someone (but not just anyone)
Will come wading through my troubles,
Searching for me.
It’s as if I am miserably childish again,
Desperate to establish the necessity of my presence.
Though laughable, in glorified imaginings,
The Rescue rivals its predecessor,
The Escape.
~~
I run.
~~
I view the world -- my world --
More plainly from a distance.
Greater quantities may be seen
The farther I flee,
And with each step, I’m allowed more clarity
Of my global truths.
Perhaps I should stay so removed,
With my obstacles revolving miles in front of me,
Slow and small,
Responding easily to the willful manipulations
Of my far away hands.
Simple.
Detached.
Alone.
Maybe I should stay here...
But then, someone comes looking.
Two desires rend my certainty
Until someone finds me,
And I am carried back home.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 2:36 AM UTC
Sometimes,
I wish I were a plastic toy.
Inexpensive, but cheerful.
Why did we outgrow those things?
I would trade the pricey seriousness of my pearls
Any day now
For some cheap happiness.
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 1:11 AM UTC
A mirror.
Reflect, unconditionally, the glory of all
But never radiate one's own splendor
A shell.
Provider, protector
Submitted to the furies; ever a refuge, never a refugee
A utensil.
Mere instrument, to be used and used
With no other use
A shoe.
Worn in and around
And replaced when the toll is apparent
A secret.
Put it out there, do
But keep knowledgeable to a close few
A kettle.
Boiling away on someone's behalf
Soon to be dismissed as a maker of shrill screams and hot air
A woman.
Charitable to inane ideals
When all that defines her is contrary
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 12:42 AM UTC