There was a time
I opened my computer in highschool
Searching my browser for you-tube for the first time.
I opened the website for U2
The band.

It was not for another month I discovered the video search engine that is so engrained into our culture today.

I saw a 5 year old navigating you-tube today.
They were watching a cat be abused and giggling.

I wonder when curiosity died.
Perhaps after it killed the cat.

I once saw a winter tree
With shit skewered on each branch
Next to the road
In the front lawn
Of my elementary school crush.

I once melted a coil of her hair
On a lightbulb
In her attic
I still remember the smell.

I do not remember the smell of the tree
I imagine it smelled like shit.

I once watched return of the jedi

On a pulled out futon mattress
While my elementery school crush
And her two younger sisters
Explored each others bodies.

I ignored them.
I also ignored Carrie Fisher losing her entire planet.

Instead I watched their mother lose a game of majong on her dusty grey computer moniter.

She then sold some of the hoarder stash lining their walls on ebay.

This is where I learned to observe.
Being a fly in the tar pit is more honest then
Being a fly on the wall.

I do not remember the smell of starwars

I imagine it smells a lot like a woman
losing a game of majong.

I imagine it smells a lot
like sweat
and tears.

How like my father
To turn to religion
Like an heirloom
One of the two things he left me
Faith, and

You were born bone
I became tattoo
flesh tethered your scaffolding
Under my beautiful scars

Thin paint, Stinging red
Constellations of wings
Left them with fingernails
Your soft shoulderblades
snug under pale skin

A bit lip tease soft blonde hairs one by one
Down tips underneath
the divet in your neck.
I admire the canvas of your spine back to me, all red wing stinging.
Ready to fly off
Moving thigh and held
Shifting maroon blankets.
My mouth smirks
Attempts to hide how desperate
To taste it is.

Sweet bird. Sweet angel.
Awake all night
With a tattoo of an arrow
And her hand
Pressed to her forehead.

A glass of water.
Towel held like a childs blanket.
Still white.
Even used, it is still fresh linen smell.
We are still fresh linen smell.
Your hipbones agree.
My thumbs asked them.

I kiss your feathers gentle and let them burn softly as I trail down.

Your whimpers send me skyward.
Lighter headed now
Tight cheeked.

More rustled blanket
Your thigh dances over hipbones.
I feel the tethers between bone and canvas
Scar and silk.
Warm in these wings
Stars in this constellation.

fleece coddled my head
Choked on a guitar pick
Laughed a hysterical
Cry for help

songs keepers of ID
Acoustic Railroad to meditation
My only distraction
Lack of pills

Late to my doctors appointment
inspired to write a song
Electric highway to medication
Ran out of meds

Hear more songs
instruments change
Guns, skin, razors

This is the dream.
Writing at this desk
You aren't real.

Part time bartender
Full time escapist
Left to spare her daughter
From a life of engagement.

She'll never know
If her time here was wasted
Before the verdict
She Prayed for church basements

Nobody noticed.
Except the bar fly
His tab stayed open
She clocked out, out back
before he could close it.

A memorial,
he was outside smokin'
didn't realize he lit a candle
When the cherry was glowing

She'll never see it.
In the paper they read it
hearts bleedin'
like a wound they weren't treating
By breathing.

at the tip of a needle
wings spread like an angel
Wrote her name in hebrew
Left us a messege.

How much time you got
How will you spend it
She bet him on her life
That it's less then intended

If I could reinvest it
I'd pay for my sins
I'll be damned If it
Wouldn't take every penny I have.
But I'll be glad for empty pockets
When I stop losing friends

I'm not sayin' her life was wasted
I'm just sayin' live.

I'm clawing at your door, God
Don't you see the shadows seeping out from under your closet?
I see those shadows everywhere.
Let me be that for you, God.
Let me pull you in.

Nicholas Mitchell
Next page