I am the patron saint of lost eyelashes
of foggy cloudless minds
and faded neon piping
of the Ocean's Retreat
of blown out birthday candles
when the wish-maker
never intended.
I am the patron saint of loose boards
creaking and rattling
skeletons
mere shadows of
past grandeur
and the wind quickens
and the light magnifies
and sensation multiplies
but the numbness maintains its steady and resolute path onwards
into the dark coils of the future.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
Untitled
10:00 pm and the streets are empty
the drunken lines I slur float out the windows
and she’s flailing in the back seat
and your eyes are empty
(are you there?)
9:00 am and the honeyed light floats in
suddenly I’m in the wrong room
in the wrong clothes
sheathed in someone else’s memories
you fill the holes
with the corners of your mouth turned up
and your sweaty palms
playing songs in my hair
2:00 am and it’s white light and white lines everywhere
empty boxes scattered across the counter
burn holes in the carpet,
glass on the patio
the shattered remains of our night
you inform me that there’s more to life
they tell me with their bell voices and their bell jars that I can’t sink any deeper
but how can I not when it’s 12:00 AM and I’ve forgotten who I am?
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC