The river of vile
that streams through the main living room
your bile
and into crowded basements
now a flood plain
well,
it doesn’t compare much to your smile
and as your body lays heavy
heaves,
contorted, distorted
reaching for boulders
that erode quickly into sediment
hapless in attempt
your parents disinterest now retorted
hapless self directed contempt
flowing
with pants shackled at ankles
o’keefe sweet lips flower showing
pink
you drown
and sink
and crickets chirp
and fish swim
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:48 AM UTC
your body, the drain plug,
that climactic days of a day
murky sweet strawberry milk water
ebbs and sways
around, surrounds, and surmounts you
Your body the dumping ground
for pretty poppy seeds
seep, steep
seeded somewhere deep
as
synthetic stinging metaphor rain
pours on your mistreated singing skin
spotted, dotted, synaptic rule
akin to lemon poppy seed muffin tops
your head- a top
spins round
and mimics
never-ending bath drain whirlpool
ambulances and ambivalences soundtrack
this nocturne
night of a morning
mourning already
my poor lost sister
a little less than intact
lost in her head
I'm loosing her
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she nods
and grumbles,
fumbles for words that aren't there
four words that aren't there
forward isn't there
because what do you say
about matters
when your high
and breathing last breaths overlapping
in humble showers
in heart crumbling nakedness
your faithlessness trapping
murky sweet strawberry milk waters.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Couldn’t sleep last night
so I did the next best thing
and quaffed caffeine until
cerebral vasoconstriction
set in
I think
I know I have always been embarrassed to be me
but I guess
if nothing else
Humiliation breeds diffident dissonance humbly so
so foggy up here
a tad bit soggy,
saturated with my diseased anatomical atoms
my dendrites retreating
softening like rotting fruit
so much potential so little actualization
synapses overloaded
with drugs
that I didn’t know
Like the lone tree in the farthest forrest
dendritic pestilence is high and corrosive
I’m high and corrosive
and
I sigh for the lovers that never knew I loved them.
I miss the lovers that I never knew I loved.
and
I love the lovers who didn’t don’t and wont love me.
Couldn’t sleep last night
so I did the next best thing
and mirrored the rain until
pillows were
sponges
I think
I know I have always wanted to be caressed slightly
but I guess
if nothing else
creation breeds ****** succulence cunningly so
so sticky down here
a tad bit rickety,
saturated with my diseased anatomical atoms
my elevated coronary coronated erosion
sputters like a misused Porsche
911
so much beauty so little left
arteries caked
with yesterday’s cigarette
that let me let go.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
Each raindrop explodes
into millions of tiny oceans
that I can’t see.
As if written in code.
I know of their existence
they mean the world to me
but I wish I could feel and know
without emotion
that one of the millions of oceans
was bigger than the sea
from which the raindrop first appeared
and was lifted upwards just to fall again
again, against all agony an aging raging storm
dropped its first few bombs.
Signalling to the rest it would soon be time
for their own demise,
surmised from the fallen
they form the same sea scenically placed
where we will first meet
they are chastised for their ability to
reconstruct from their own destruction.
I shake in my bed thinking of all the millions of oceans forming over head
and all of the oceans they have been and will be
all the seas they were a part of then
and now that they can’t and won't be
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
Social ineptitude
summarized as “self-solaced in solitude"
becomes nightmarish
in late night fright
I worry I will never make my desires known
Sewn into the fabric so even the
sharpest seam rippers
do little to nothing to repair
my inability to tell the truth,
my lips have been sealed, healed and sealed again
To the Yous
I used to call
mine
You're gone and
I am reminded of your presence in this world
and your absence in mine.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
I'm uncomfortable
And always tense
In observational
Desire
From my corner coffee shop
Spot.
Unnoticed,
I see simple embrace
One for which
my body aches.
My body breaks
I realize
I'm alone and
In doing so actualize my own fate.
People are aliens
Foreign and speaking a language which seems eerily
familiar but forgotten
years ago.
It seems I am not getting
better at conversing
just daily Rehearsing
The same rhetoric
Stoic lows
recycled and recited
to a new day, a new ethereal face
Inadequate Inadequacies
Inadequately Inscribed,
,described and, imbibed.
Please, oh Lord,
Let me imbibe
before subscribing
to speak to you, me, every and anyone.
Send Help!
Send Anyone!
A person
to make my lips feel
a little
less caustic.
Casual conversation
by the wayside
I want what I had
Not what I can or could have.
I don’t want love.
I’d rather have a dog to put to sleep
than no dog at all.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
Something about a cigarette and a cappuccino
gives me solace
but not more than the layers of my bed.
I know it’s all “in my head”
but when did
losing you
become worse than
losing myself
selfishly
I drag on
I drag on
I drag on
like the dragons breath
out comes the
smoke and flame
and with it
my dignity
and affinity for you, myself, and everyone else
Something about a cigarette and a cappuccino
keeps me at bay
but not like you did
its not the end of may anymore
but the beginning of June
and with it I come out of ruin
ashes fall out of my lungs
cancerous
I don’t know it now
but my eyelids
won’t close tonight
and instead
in fright and flight
I fight with myself
I plead with my psyche to think about all
the infinite world of nothings
that seem to ease my mind
I should come with a warning:
be kind
I’ve been hurt before
and wouldn’t find
it terribly wrong
if you would,
or could
find it in yourself to
love me
just
one time more
Something about a cigarette and a cappuccino
gives me solace
but not more than the layers of my bed.
I know it’s all “in my head”
but when did
losing you
become worse than
losing myself
selfishly I
drag on
drag on
I quit.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
**** you** are so tired.
Enmeshed in your
silk of lies and loved lovers loved while loving me.
How can you say a love shouldn’t be loved
How can you lie about your lover
Especially if you (n)ever loved me.
let it be
what even is "meant to be"
Not tired in the way
you can shut your eyes
and wake up
refreshed
to a new day
But tired in the way
you no longer
sulk and skulk.
just continuously
walk around
inconspicuously
hoping no one
asks
“How are you”
because your answer
has evolved to some effect of:
I am great!
I am good!
I am alright.
I am fine
I am
I exist
and you resist
speaking,
you just keep reading
because
you feel your smile
is not as misleading
as it used to be.
Everyone can see your
eyes are lost
consumed looking for
the reason
for you to lie and love lovers while loving me.
**** you** are so tired
tired in the way
your tenacious tensity
is palpable
unmalleable
unrelenting
to the point of exhaustion
at this point you are just venting
So ******* go away.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
I don't usually wear my seatbelt
because if I die driving,
I want to go enthusiastically, smiling.
I only want to die
if in a gore-ific scene of carelessness,
I want to exit with a bang, part of a mess.
And I don’t find this morbid
Because if I die cruising down 33,
I will die my mind at peace with the rest of me.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
This morning was one of firsts
and one of fists.
My lashes tied together
untwined the way they always do.
slowly
For the first time in six years
I had forgotten the date.
I pushed my feet through the maze of layers
as if I had someone to wake up next to
My optimistic attitude wished they were not there
because they were running a little late.
I threw on an outfit...if you can call it that
and went to the store
The violent red that attacked me at the front
brought me the realization that it was in fact
the same day
just a year ago
that I would have prepared for
weeks ahead instead
I made myself a meal and poured a glass of wine
as the white outside made
all of humanity disappear.
...and it was beautiful
I bought myself flowers, and lit candles
I snuggled and rubbed my feet together under a red blanket
and listened to songs about loving yourself.
I feel a little bad
I feel a little good
but most of all
I feel
I know
that before loving all of those lovers all those loves ago
I must be loving to the mornings
when there are just my feet in the bed.
This morning was one of firsts
and one of fists.
My lashes tied together
untwined the way they always do.
...and for that I am grateful.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC