perhaps is a word i use sometimes
perhaps is a crutch of a word, yes?
it however allows me to write with honest
perhaps a true lack of certainty
perhaps a fear of conviction.

Don't be just pretty
      Be a gallbladder
Functional

It strikes me that I have never written about you
Well everything I write is about you

It strikes me that I have never written to you
Well I have written a dozon letters, never sent

It strikes me that I have  never used your name in my writing
That is still true

Lust is a selfish, carnal
Thirst, it can only be satisfied by
Engagement in ****** activity

Illness has an odd way
Of ordering affections
sorting priorities

Nausea is illness
But the unsourced kind
it is a warmth
an unpleasant heat

An indication of error
But what?
Is Wrong?
Nausea is the stubborn sick
Refusing to disclose its root

It fills and sloshes
Like a coagulating soup
The only cure is to here it told
“Your mistakes are forgiven”
“Your body will be made new”
“Your grieving is heard”
“I am listening”

Nausea is a stubborn captain
of a leaky ship
O bail my ship
O captain
Make all things new.

There is a worm behind my eye
And it wants, it wants, it wants
Sending telegraphs down my nerves
Begging to be noticed
There is a worm behind my eye
And it wants out.

You are not the only person i’ve loved looking at that light
Green, blinking over the water
in fact, i said goodbye to my first staring at it
i soared with my second in its glow
but each one, each one
faded, or crashed, either by my malicious hand, or my incompetent rudder
i have pulled so much from so little
i knew that light meant everything
now i have learned, it is just a light
in reality it exists only to demarcate the left side of the safe path
not to me, not to me, to me, like one before me, it was everything
a green light blinking in the Distance
every future i could hope for
each time filled with a different You
i’ve sat in the same spot on the same sandy shore and said the same things the same way
the only difference
You
god, i hope You are different
i hope i feel differently about You
but i do not, i can not know
i hope our ship will not sink like the rest
Illuminated by my kitschy and distracted heart
always looking for the next metaphor
Blinking, noiselessly but immutable
i am sorry
**** me and my poetry
i am sorry
in the fall there will be a fourth.