O desperate lovers,
hold onto
your tarnished lockets
& keep your broken clover
hidden deep
in your pockets.

For the grass
is never greener
& chasing it
will only
make you meaner.

Trust me.

I don't know how not to be alone.

slowly walk into the bathroom
deep breathing exercises
count to ten
again and again
step onto the cold linoleum
the cold hurts your feet
slip your skin off
wash off the mask
you don't need it right now
kneel to the cabinet
under the sink
pull out the small square
put it on the floor
in front of your feet
deep breathing exercises
count to ten
again and again
one step forward
right foot to match
clenched fists, white knuckles, shut eyes
count to ten

the number blinks at you
you've gained
you've gained
you've gained
you've gained
you've GAINED
YOU'VE GAINED
the room becomes smaller
you drop to your knees
warm tears roll down your cheeks
move closer to the porcelain
both hands taking turns in your mouth
get it out
get it out
get it out
get it out
now

a deep breath, a sigh of relief, the sound of harsh running water
you won't eat tomorrow
you don't deserve it

We slipped down olive drab line
under deafening blades,
out
onto the ridgeline
into pitch
like lightning.

Then the hookers,
them stick *******
scooted,
leaving us
in total silence.

Three days
& two cracks later,
we got extracted,
two departed,
mission accomplished.

I lay
staring
at the spinning blades,
could hear your deep breathing,
it was almost a snore.
Our lovely-odor
permeated
the dimly-lit
room.

I lay
and bore witness
to the strewn clothes
lying in various places
around on the floor,
remembering your
wild-antics.

I lay
there
& for a brief moment,
it felt like only we existed,
then the sound of a radio
clicked on somewhere
down the hall,
probably six doors
away
from our
room.

I tore the filter off of the last Lucky Strike I had
Just as a close friend taught me to
after school in the church parking lot.
It wasn't a metaphor
we just wanted the purest tobacco to infiltrate our lungs
and the nicotine to take the pressures of the day away
*even if it was just for an hour or so

sometimes
there are rocks in my hands
and only tight clenched fists
can keep them from smashing
the mirror world below
into delicate shards of broken promises.
i long to float among the clouds -
one with the stratosphere -
but the rocks weigh me down
so that i cannot touch them.
reaching
but never reached.

people in glass houses
aren't supposed to throw stones.
so i am sure to keep locked
my loaded palms
hiding in plain sight.

only your lips
with homemade ice-cream touches
can coerce my stagnant fingers
to melt back into warm flesh.
skin bones knuckles joints.
i release the stones over a waterfall cliff -
rushing rolling rambling -
and they ripple in the water
and sink to the soil of the riverbed
making a home for fragile fish
in search of shelter.