It's a bomb on your doorstep.
Wrapped up in a pastel pink and white blanket.
Swaddled in a babys basket
You don't even hear the ticking over all the babble
You just assumed it was designed to protect.
You never asked anyone
Or questioned where the basket came from.
Where it got this baby.
Why it is concealing it's wicker with this blanket.
You bring it inside.

tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick

Wake up tossing and turning
hear a ticking downstairs
In your kitchen.
On the island.
"You're hearing things"
close your eyes.
It's too loud.
Walk down to see just a basket
A blanket
The baby is tucked in tight
You were hearing things
"Go back to bed sweety."
But the basket keeps ticking.
"Baskets are supposed to tick"
you never question it again.

tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick

You never see it explode.
Just find and count the pieces
Wicker shrapnel where there should have been guidance.
Viscera where there should have been eyes.

"Over there
Witness all the rooms you rent,
Moments, Memories,
all the pieces of heart
gifted by lovers or strangers"
said The Cherub.
"My arrows choose which you will cherrish."

"While we lay entangled here,
Having consumed one another.
Do you wonder if we will cherrish this?"
said The Archer.

"Would you like to come even closer
And discover the answer? "
replied The Cherub.

"Every memory I've choosen to cherrish,
Has Shattered"
says The Archer.

"Well of course it did,
You tried to choose.
We cannot choose
which memories we will cherrish.
We may only pull
faith From quiver.
Give in to potential
without intention.
Close your eyes.
Empty all your senses
Until the only sense you have is Trust
I'll fill those empty spaces,
can you feel me?"

"Yes, you are close."

"You have my quiver now.
We still have no control over whether
We will cherrish this moment.
Put your faith in this bow.
Draw back our arrow
Trust it's natural path.
Close our eyes.
Forget this room.
Volley the whole tower"

I want my book in a children's library
I want my book in a maximum security prison

I want my book resting on a cloud in a sky
to be seen by a passenger in an airplane
the passenger to crack the escape hatch and jump
survive the fall

I want my book to be a parachute
I want my book surrounded by tiny hands,

hearts,
and mouths,
saying I love you
I love me.
I will survive

I want a book that is a house
for the abandoned
I want a book that is a vacany sign
Rent me.

I want my book that is a headstone
I want a book that is a flowerbed
I want a book that is a matchstick
a Tire Iron
an oil tanker

I want a book that is a leatherman
in a hunters pocket
in the belly of a deer
in the zip ties and cellophane
of a childs Christmas present

I want a book that bleeds

I want a book held by tiny hands
with wide eyes
wider because of me

I want to destroy the innocence of children
by handing them courage and wisdom
I want to inspire revolution
I want sad eyes and clenched fists
I want skydive
wings grown during the fall

I want a nation run by answers
with blood stained sheets

I want a book that is every question
symbiotic book
single cell organism
splits in two hearts

I want a book that is a surgeon

saving lives,
holding scalpel
I want a book with hands up
no rubber gloves, just a gun to it's back
an engine running
I want a book that is a bank robbery
paper bag mask
on fire
Molotov cocktails
disguised as champagne bottles
Destined for VIP

I want the man who threw it
to be the only one burning
and well read
And *****
I want my book in his VIP

I want him to read it with a melted eye
I want my book in his prison cell
to be next to me
maximum security
my casket

I want a book resting
on a cloud in the sky
in a children's library
surrounded by tiny hands
Before I am gone.

You like to blend in
It's safer, not being identified in a line up
Not being noticed by the school Bully
I couldn't bear that life.
Always needed spotlight
Crosshairs
Skyscrapers.
Let people come into my building for it's big neon signs
When they leave maybe they've learned how to use pen. Bought or sold stories.
Taken something with them.

You are in the ocean
One of the many holding hands
dropletts blending together
Boats motor by, dump their waste
People dip their toes in,
******* before they leave
Scream over you about their tragedies.
Never hear you.

Except one girl
She sits by the ocean
Listens to the waves and the crashing
Watches the men hurl lobster traps
wants to be a ****** diver.
takes lessons
Gets a degree in marine biology
visits your rocky bottom
Lost in the sea of other droplettes
Illuminated Neon Coral houses
Tiny white specks to chase
lights dangling from
big teethed fish

She stays there
Loves how beautiful it is
Her name is Poetry

Finding that balance between what feels good and what you need is harder than picking out an outfit in the morning.
Unless those outfits are all pretty slutty.
Then it's about the same,
the main difference being there's no real good solution.
Just a bad idea,
and a worse idea.
A low cut dress with no bra
Or a ruler width mini skirt over a thong.

I have always been a fan of extremes
so, I guess, between what I want
And what I need.

I'd wear the same outfit every day until it ripped,
got lost
or didn't fit me anymore.

And then I wouldn't wear anything.

They finally told me you know.
About what you became.
It took them awhile.
Every time I asked about you they said you were well.
fine.
moved on.
hid it from me.
I wouldn't have the right reaction.

They said you drove to their house drunk.
Brought our daughter with you.
They watched her play
while you ****** some stranger.

Well.
She isn't mine anymore.
I was a stand in stepdad at best.
She isn't yours anymore either.
you Told me,
her, your mother
you wished she was gone.
That she was such a burden.
You wanted to be free.

Your mother was
nice enough to take her off your hands.
the whole time we were together you convinced me your mother was devil.
stealing your baby.
Convincing all you weren't enough to raise a child.
You never told me that when I left,
she'd be right.
That without me, you'd give up.
go back to the trailer life.
The drugs. alcohaul.
Empty whirlwind to try and feel something.
anything.

I wasn't happy when I found out.
You'd think that when you hear
your ex lovers life going down in smoke
you'd be exhilerated.
I'm not... I feel guilty.
For leaving you that way.
you weren't fit to love anyone alone
Not me, your daughter, yourself.
I don't want to see you blackout on pavement
cold, too drunk to drive home.
Throwing up for whole days after ******* strangers for drugs.

When I left you, you refused to drink.
Said, you had an addictive personailty
were avoiding it.

I want to imagine you getting better.
finding the right help...
learning how to raise a child the way that is your own,
but is also healthy, happy.
I gave you both so much time, love, care.
Driving you to the doctors,
her to the playground,
the whole family down to boston for vacation.

you chose this.
Drunk driving from Trip to allyway
Killing yourself on the same street you grew up on.

I wish I had adopted her when you begged me to.
Back when our puppy love blinded us so loudly all we saw was the sun.

You had me convinced I was controlling, jealous.

So I showed you exactlly what happens when I stopped trying to help.
Stopped caring that you were lying.
Gave you all the space you needed to
be free.

I was hoping on some level that I was wrong.
That I was controlling. jealous.
just a confused terrible person.
wishing that I was this monster blind guarded by distrust.
But here you are....
Gave up custody.
Picked up a million vices
working at mcdonalds.
I'm happy you feel free.

I'm happy I gave up trying to change you,
it was the healtiest thing i've ever done.

I've never had a regret before.
always owned my descisions.
Preached each and every terrible experence helped shape my charecter.

Until today.
I regret leaving you that little girl.

All the audio recordings of you hitting her, calling her a ****,
telling her she couldn't eat until she stopped crying
All the times I didn't step up and say you were wrong
because I “wasn't her real father”
it “wasn't my place to tell you how to parent”
You "didn't hit her that hard"
all I ever wanted was to raise her right.
To love her.
Give her something constant in her life.

I painted you on such a pedestal just because you gave life.
trapped myself in this hole I labeled love.

I wasn't happy when they told me you lost her.
That you were an alcohaulic.
had given up.

I just regreted ever telling you no.
no I can't adopt Soleil.
I can love her without paper.
No I would never take her away.
I have faith in you.
You'll be an amazing mother.
Just believe in yourself.

Maybe if you listened to me.
you'd still have her.
be alive.
Free.

I wake up on a yoga mat
In what is now just My
empty room.

All the clutter That made this house
lived in.
Tucked
in the three old
Sock and underwear drawers
That used to be:
Hers.

The family photographs
half the nerdy posters
books,
Magic the Gathering cards,
Burgled by some addict named time.

I look out at what I now call
"The guest bedroom".
The only evidence of her
An empty dresser
covered in Princess stickers.

At work
Customers ask:
How are you doing?
"I'm awesome! how are you?"
How are you doing?
"I'm wonderful! what brings you to freeport?"
How are you doing?
"I'm fantastic, peak or dark roast?"

How's your daughter?
"Step-daughter."
That's all I'm allowed to tell you
My boss said I'm scaring off customers By
over-sharing
So he wrote me a script.

I would love to tell you
I don't know how she's doing
And it's killing me.

Her mother left me,
We were both fifteen at the time so
My mother, Rightfully cautious
of her overly passionate puppylove eyed son
Didn't let me adopt

So I don't get to see her anymore.

Her mother was a fire who never drank enough rain
And that little girl
Will burn without my clouds.

I am playground math lessons
In space of mindless television
I am baking a cake together Instead of
"You won't eat till you listen".
I am the voice behind every barbie doll
And dinosuar that ever fell in love.

when you ask me how she's doing
All I can think about is how
I earned that
first "I love
you,
dada."

How I made her laugh
more times than her Mother made her
Cry.
How I tucked her in at night
and she made me read her
"Oh The Places You'll Go",
Over
and Over
and Over.
Screaming
when I said she'd go
On through the hakken kraks howl,
and Giggling
when I said she'd move
Mountains.
I raised her for three years.

But because I walked in on my daughter
Locked in "The guest bedroom"
banging on the Oak door
Screaming "DA DAAAA!"
While her mother forgets about us
On the other side of a keyhole.

I have to waste at this register
Handing you a precious cup of coffee
every precious cup of coffee
another abuse I can't protect her from.

"How is your daughter?"
"Step Daugher"
"How are you doing?"
"I'm awesome."
"How is your daugher?"
"Step daughter."
"how are you doing? Step daughter"
"Tell me how you're doing, Step Daughter."
"Please, Tell me you're safe."
"Tell me you're safe."
"Tell me you're safe."

Up here at the top of the world, I stare into the horizon.
a building under construction in plain view.

Next to me,
A homeless man throws an empty bottle at some hard hats.
Screaming nonsense at them like he owns them.

Beside him,
A dog prances around, stopping only to **** on the brown grass.
covering up the **** that was left by some other dog earlier on.

the sun sets.
a film student points and clicks his camera at his model.
The model stares longingly into the horizon

At night,
Rebels, stumble out of the wilderness giggling and coughing.
smelling like skunk and sweat.
Almost stumbleing off the rocks.

I sit alone at the top of the world,
Trying to find my own way to escape.

I stand up and walk to the end of the cliff.
I scream nonsense at the black, but nobody hears me.
I ******* the precipice; but nothing is covered up.
I stare gloomily off into the horizon, but all I see is the building under construction.
I inhale smoke, but I don't feel any different.

I can't escape like the homeless man does,
or the dog, or the film student, or the rebel. they found their ways and Those ways belong to them.

I need to find my own way to escape. My top of the world.

You ****** exotic,
beautiful creature.
Here we are again
I made sure to not be tardy this time
Which was easy since you moved ten minutes away
You called me seven times on the
walk from the parking lot, to your front door.
On the fourth call you mentioned pouring another shot of Jim Beam
So no, I will not be ******* you.
I am obligated to let you know I am a mess.
That is, I would have told you I am a mess
If you didn't mute me by providing more then enough proof it was mutual.
you said lets dump our boyfriends
date each other
Poly wouldn't be enough attention for you
Who have passed self destructive
into destroyed.
With your unzipped *** stained lingerie and ****** that I found
Still inside you.
you forgot it was there when you asked me to *******
the next morning
After my fifteenth no.

God bless that ******
Caution tape boon from some deity I should pray to more often.
Blessing me with one last chance to think before my actions.
That ****** saved me from any number of potential tragedies.
Yes I was disgusted
Not because the cotton string was mistaken originally for some sort of ***** rat tail.
Not because I imagined for a breif moment, a tiny sufficated animal
who got a little to curious.
Not because you were offended I wouldn't yank it out and ******* anyway,
instead of assuming it was a sign
I should stop my hands.
Go to bed.
Disgusted at myself.
if not for that magical used ******
from what I assume to be
the God of a full eight hours of sleep and
Inverted libido
I would have let myself be seduced Into spiraling back into ******* the pain away.

I've worked too hard at reminding myself who I am.
To let myself be the man who throws away the bruised hearts.
Or drowns them in a sea of bodies.

No.
Now that you've woken me.
Put your body away.
Now that you're sober.
Where is your heart.
Go on, get it.
Beautiful.
God is that a specimen.
Bruised from aorta to base.
Here's mine.
All purple and calloused.
Uncanny isn't it?


almost Identical

Miles of indigo ocean floss the urchins from its rocky teeth
cracked, aged, sturdy

like our captain
unwavered by the changing tides
wrinkles deep in his eyes
skin dry from the salt of the blue.

The ship a knotty brown, pointed like a tri-corn hat. Roguishly handsome like it could Woo the sea.

Our captain sang stories
of the ship's past lives before its soul
settled into our vessel.
His adventures hearing mermaids
Lured under to their beauty.
Most men be tranced by their call
lost forever in their seaweed chains,
not this Stone-hearted Charmer.
With swiftness of a thief
his smirk toss the sirens under his thumb.

Johnny Two Leg sticks his knife into the lid of a large barrel
prys it open.

Maggots wriggle under the dark of it's planks.
Rot cotton forming in their crevasses.

"Another day another barrel" Johnny sigh to himself
lid clanking against the deck.

This will be the crew's rations.

Sing songing men with their plenty red wenches toss back tankards on board.
Their song isn't flashy,
not even practiced,
they just want their tales to be heard.
A chorus, or chant repeats between stories.
Some simpler, some scary, some tall.
Each member of crew taking turns with their voice boxes, scratching the black liquor walls.

Johnny Two Leg plunks the barrel center of the crowd
a loud cheering erupts.
The poor boy who was staged on a chair belting limerick of his most recent love affair has his stool politely kicked, knocking him prone,
causing a nearby member
or four to laugh.

"If a man is a song, is he really dead?"
booms our captain through the bustle. touching Johnny Two Legs back,
giving a smile as he walk past.

We form a line as he hand us vials from the barrel

thumb the frosty glass
pop cork unleashing purple mist tendrils that spiral round like a serpent's tail

look to our captain in devotion
who holds his vial out proud.
Johnny Two Leg stands prouder,
glowing for the captain.
The poor boy stand bright eyed, clutching.
Together we swig back the poison

give our souls to the next vessel
be it castle, sword, or ship.
They'll sing about us
of hearts calloused harder than oceans teeth
voices louder than the reddest haired *****
passion hotter than the fires of hell.

When their lungs grow tired of our song, remind them
'fore we faired the sea under their new flag
we breathed oceans of wisdom
devout to this Knotty Tri-corn Rogue.
May his story never die.

I came across a chimera yesterday.
It had the legs of a beautiful egyptian *** goddess

She covered them with pants she had bought that morning
My favorite color,
Pistachio cream
She had no idea what my favorite color was,
luck should have it,
She's perfect.
Her personality had traits of every woman
I'd ever fallen in love with
Alphabetical From

Anxiety to
Brand new
Comfortable
Directionally challenged
Embarrassed when I caught her smiling
Flirtatious
Goregeous
Home schooled
Intelligent
Jealous
Kitchen working
Lavender loving
Mistake making
Neglected
Open hearted
Passionate
Queer
Religious
Self-analyzing
Takes off her wedding ring
Understanding
Venomous
Worried about everything
Xerox'd onto her
Yeilding Body.
Zodiac stamped

Like she was made especially for me.
she wasn't...
She belonged to somebody else.

~~~~~

She told me I represented the end of the world.
We saw shooting stars and the only thing we could wish was
"Please let this night last forever."

Because once we climbed down our milkcrate staircase
We had to deal with the consequences.

Our lips were so close that I could tell her breath was sweet,
like poison.

She gave me her body.
Pressed it against me like we
Were one whole creature.

I love making woman glow.
Love seeing woman cry.
Not for some sick sadistic pleasure
because ironically,
I hate lying.
When you're glowing or crying
At least you're real.

She was so...
Real...
Just like the rooftop we layed on.
The shooting stars,
The kiss.
Her begging me to hate her.
Touches and moans.
Warmth and the softness of her skin.

Now, I'm just a name
On a list of regrets
That she passes to him
In her worst nightmares.

Before her I thought I couldn't love again.
Broken to the idea of relationships.
Meaningless pleasure.
At least now
I'm broken for a different reason.

4/30/17

A cheetah speckled woman
With long curly red hair
Invited me to a bean shaped cushion
In her studio apartment.
her keys jingled in the closing door
Sealing us, a hot red room.

"Love is creepy"
She says, sinking into
Her candy apple bean shaped cushion

I am a watcher.
When We met, She was in her natual habitat.
A coat tail of men,
I admired how oblivious they were
to being faceless goons.
watched her direct them
like an ***** desperate orchestra.
My back against a wall,
Smoking a cigarette.

Now, I'm in this studio apartment
Again, I am a ******.
She tells me stories
Of bad tinder dates
as I survey the strung up Christmas lights
Posters of Marilyn monroe.
Teenage quotes of aspiration.
"Be unapologeticly you"

She smiles at my ignorance to her body.
I am not ignorant by any means
Only respectful
I notice her smirk at me swing around
Leaning into shelves of pottery and art supplies.
flying around with a clipped wing.

"Will I be a poem?" She asks.
"You're right. Love is creepy."

I pull wine out of my bag and place it on the counter, put Chicken and vegetables in the fridge.
She turns on Netflix and asks
"whaddaya wanna watch?"
"bird documentaries"
i say,
an effort to incite her own decision.
domestically,
A bird documentary starts to play.
I gloss over a smirk at my failure
We share wine meditating to the sounds of
Bad Voiceovers and chirping

We are the card dealers of moments
hourglass columns
sand falling where art should be carved.
fractures of timelessness stacked like
Jenga blocks
each sip of wine a ritualistic dymensia
blackjack tables with no dealer
just a bartender

We watch an owl puke up mouse bones
"Owls are Creepy."
We agree.
witness to me, is indulgence
silk strings pull my heart towards exhibitionists
When she changes to A pink robe
Textured to compliment my heart strings
the singsong of birds chirping.
provides an exotic baseline for her sway.

I stare at her body.
"My love is creepy" I say
pressing thumbs to divets in her hips
I am slave on her shadows
My hands trace contours
follow my worship eyes
"I like the attention" she says

In the morning
drafty eyes part

whisper From swirling pink elephant dazes
smiling at me.
the soft moans of her night
the reason I started dealing cards.
an addiction to that moment.
the reason I turn the hourglass.
the wide green foggy eyes
Watching me stare back.
stretching like a cat
who plays with the bird
brings it to it's master as a gift
limp and submissive,
Perhaps she is the bird.
Sunken to the curves of the bed.
a limp beautiful body
the most honest and intentionless fracture
love is creepy.
I am a watcher
ask only that you exist.
Existing is equally as creepy.
we have fingers
thoughts
consequences.
So why not stare at a part you want to keep?
Why not write it down for others to fly?
so many beautiful things are never seen
Oppurtunity wasted for fear of being creepy
Fear of love.
fear of cats
Fear of birds
when I stare I capture
When I write, you stare
love is creepy.
we are creepy.
birds are creepy
be my creepy love bird.
peace dove
fly with me, if for a moment.
and stare down at everything while we can see it
I want to see everything with you
For now I see you in everything.
Photoshop you into my dreams
Imaginary
Love is for the birds anyway.

Of Drained batteries
The white plastic robot that uses them
The pink and poppy wallpaper of
Tiny bedroom the robot sits in.
Child too grown to want pink walls.
Doesn't want the toy either
Not since the battery died
Overalls tucked into boots tear down pastel gardens
Paint over the chipped glue in beige.
The Dreamer
Of a drained battery
Of a toy.
Sees the walls from memory now.
Won't open her eyes in the bedroom anymore.
wear beige anymore.
This robots Batteries are hard to replace
Beige Is difficult to charge.

Bent over the painted lines of her road.
Stood a black feathered crow
peeling back a tendon of flesh,
Like a strand of red twizzler candy,
from the tannish white fur
of a dead bunny.

she thought this was cute.

"AWW! THEY'RE KISSING!!"

Her daddy did not correct her.

This memory, he revisits every time she brings a new boy home.
Debates internally,
the tipping scales that balance ignorance and optimism.
If maybe he should have explained the beauty in death, rather than let her beleive her illusions.
The beauty in nature, the circle of life.

Like a cat, she brings home dead animals

Like the owner of a cat,
He is unimpressed.

Maybe if he told her the bunny was dead, she would stop offering herself to the crows.

Half a million dollars moved
by political giants
say our chimera hearts
are lion about some parts
look about my parts, see fur
see teeth, see claws
Lions? that's right,
We are.

Pounce on scorn
for these gender norms
we're pressing eulogies in binary's
for transcribing our identities
to hetero70's minded
heredity enemies.
fixated on tellin' me
my parts are prescribed
like sedatives, sleepin' on it
'till I'm good and dead,
like the rest of them.

I love a lion
Son of a lion
daughter of a lion
daddy was a liar
mommy was a fighter

but I'm not lyin'
I've been rhymin' since third grade.
back than I said I was a lesbian
to try and get laid
nobody knows who they are that young
Our personalities grey
and unsung
media does an oli-oop
propaganda elected a spoof.
a Caricature opposite from any revaluation
Who was it
that wanted to watch Disney villains
start performing Macbeth
wrapped in a flag, carrying a privileged crest
white owls, burning bathroom signs on crosses
Tinder deleted her account
For the wrong parts,
used the wrong Lions stall.
They viewed her as lyin'
Aren't we all?
Aren't we fake for six months?
Jack-o-lantern carving out
new masks to try on?
The tea lights stay the same
keeps flickering sin
and shout.
If the wind blows just right,
I watch them sometimes,
burn out.

You have a body.
I know you never sleep there,

spend less time breathing than contemplating,
jailbreak daily from your ribcage,

harbor kitchen spoons to feed your escapism.
hide the entrance
under stale white hotel sheets.

Born to be an actress
with no script, you ponder this
in every mirror.

In every mirror you inherit this vacant body,
enough money to live in a studio apartment
in Washington, Vegas or anywhere

men would pay for three phone plans,
calf-length black socks and pseudonyms.

A room at the Marriot to trade scars,
connect you again with your skin.

At a political dinner
roasted hog, blueberry pie,
gilded knifes protecting the spoons.

Dog mouths are wet for scraps.
They bark beneath the table,

"Unoccupied bodies, should start charging rent.
Have you considered being a *** worker?"

"...Oh come on,
you never even turn on the lights."

Autumn squash soup sits on window sill of cardboard boxes.
Pumpkin pie wafts down alleyway
sits against a house.
The earthy colored scarfs. The brown boots and the blue glow from the 360 degree moon.
All look beautiful on you.

The speed limit is 30 miles an hour here
But i've been going 45 And I never look at my speedometer.
When the cop lights shine behind me glowing white and red and blue
I'm reminded why in fall, the color orange doesn't scare me.

I get a knock knock on my window from a man dressed in blue.
And when he asks me if i'm guilty i can't help but dream of you.

It's still fall season.
And I don't have snow tires yet.
But the weather man in my head said i've got time.
Mr. Officer in response to your question
Yes, I know why you pulled me over.
It seems that i'm on roadside trial for daydreaming.
And that slightly blue glow from the 360 degree moon sure does look great against your blue suit.
Mr. Officer. The color orange doesn't scare me.
Pumpkin carving flicker glow
Lantern guide you too your child home
While your there is there a rope swing?
Is the grass cut? Are you dreaming?
Is there a pie in the windowsill?
Because the baker inside.
waits for me tonight.
And i've been apple picking lazer tag
Holding soft hands in a graveyard.
Singing showtunes in our costumes that we struggled to sew together.

Mr officer. Do you even like pie?
Do you dream the scent and flavors?
Does it linger in your mouth?

Because to be honest
I think I'm going to love her.

In the audio recording you sent me
An hour of touching yourself
punishment for misbehavior
you giggle and cry at the same time
With a trembling whimper

It's too late now, for a confession.
We were never so honest, as our ***
Violent, passionate
suspending reality momentarily

Life's one true sin, objectification.
And now, you are a recording.

Your eye begging Me, The Cuckoo Bird
To Free you from your own fingers

like the cuckoo bird
My religion
Only gave me one hour
To howl, at passing time.

My roommate sat reading terry Pratchett
on our patchwork couch
Covered in my grandmothers quilt
as i boiled water
to make americanos for us
with the aeropress i just bought
her for christmas
It was her only gift this year
Our christmas tree wasn't up yet.
we put that up about three months after everyone else took theirs down
we watched the water drip
Like clockwork from the veins in the lime wallpaper
Collecting in her blind cats water dish
Which lapped happily before tripping over a mis-placed buhhda statue.
my roomate closes her book to say:

"being polyamorous is something you should only try is you are amazing at organization and have a fettish for complicated things."

By the time I heard her say this,
I had been trying to juggle hearts for quite awhile
I must admit my dexterity wasn't high enough
To roll without dropping a few
it's hard when hearts are never the same size
Or weight, or color.
I would be a better librarian.
organizing the hearts
Holding them just long enough to capture and
Stick on a shelf somewhere
That must be why I write so much poetry.

In an oversized denim jacket Stands
a girl who treats kisses
like handshakes.
She's young.
With makeup done perfectlly
hidden beneath a baseball cap.
I wish for her to treat I love you like thank yous
so that she has her heart broken less often.
So she may pay attention to what all the men are thankful for
So she can hang on to one that's thankful for more than just
She treats kisses like handshakes.

4/8/2017

Monogamous Cat

Today I met a monogamous cat.
I was twirling the keys to my Black Saturn
Sauntering from my Clients home After making him breakfast
And In the wide paved road
sat a fluffy orange cat with a pink collar.
Staring at me.

I put my keys away and knelt down in the middle of the road.
My red converse cracking a bit As I bend down to present my hand.
The cat came over when I called
Sniffed and let me pet her on the head, neck, and back
Nuzzled into my Khaki pants
I took this as a sign of friendship
naturally,
I went to rub this cats belly

oh, boy,
was that the wrong move.

The messege was clear.
I was not this kitty's owner,
And she was having none of my ****.

She left my hand,
more blood than skin

I pet her on the head
one last time to let her know
We could still be friends.

I shouldn't have been so forward.

But how am I supposed to know
a species notorious for hedonism
produced a monogamous cat?

I am greatful she knows her boundaries
that she is comfortable
cutting a man
When he crosses them.

The broncos won and I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was washing trash cans.
Heard about it through social media
About all the different things lady gaga looked like when she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser, pizza rolls, dolly parton
Because one time dolly parton wore a red suit.
Which i thought was kind of a stretch
But i've read stupider things on the internet so i let it slide
I saw a commercial saying that tons of babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think i've ever been less **** than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man covered in nacho grease and beer stains and goes
"Oh yeah!" Its baby making time!
My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
Thy have her doing laundry in a musty basement with middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
Ruins the magic she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked doing her make up.
Wig cap and undergarments
Snow white with her nose up asking for kombucha.
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets.
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray when they yell cut and
All the actors go back to their miserable lives, i figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making 15 dollars an hour is a goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good hoping.
That's why she hasn't cut me loose anyway.
She says she needs me around because i'm a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But i love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens. And half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets. And her still believing in magic. I think it says a lot about her.
She gives me something to dream about while I wash these trash cans.

Pushing wheelbarrows through tall grass
hoping it will mow the lawn
it only carries old dirt
over new problems
Occasionally spilling manure over the lip to make new weeds grow faster.

Never believed in lawn mowers.
Said that cutting the heads off all this grass would risk cutting the heads off the flowers too
Most people say **** the flowers
But not you
Your garden is extravagant.

I Have Given The Kids At Family Christmas, Explosives.

I told them,
"Keep these in your pockets and don't tell your parents you have them until you get home.
If you throw it at the ground it will explode and make a loud noise!
Suprise your parents with them, and tell them
Nick gave it to you".
Then I went to their parents,

"I Have Given Your Children Explosives".
"Wait, WHAT?"

"I have told your children to hide explosives from you until they get home, and to then suprise you with them.
Act scared".
I handed them their own explosives.

"These are for revenge".

One little girl came out while I briefed the adults,
"I just heard that".
I gave her three more explosives.

"These are for staying quiet.
You're on the adult team now.
When you get home,
scare your brother".

Part 1

He constantly thinks
About their future
Raising children
A big field to play on
White picket fence to hold it all in
Never liked the idea of
Raising animals
Preferred the two of them
Talking through their problems
He doesn't trust
The media
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
This kind of danger
Not a world to raise children
He loves her
Can't cage this feeling
He is protector
Loves feeling her head on his chest
If only for a moment
He'll never clip her wings
Loves watching her fly
He prays for her to come back
for the children

Part 2

She will leave
Any man who stops her
Loving how she wants to
Without some cage
Wants to run a farm
All the men shes collected
Goats,  Cows, Chickens
Working deep into the hours of the night
Never sleeping
Her life of addiction
Injected into her bloodstream
So she does
What she needs to survive
To love
So many people love her
Always touching, kissing, whispering
One of the many lost souls in this forest
Her hips a curtain call to tragedy
Long enough to need her love
Then she'll leave
Returning only to those she trust
To deliver story books
of goats, cows, chickens


Part 3, Across**

He constantly thinks
she will leave
About their future
any man who stops her
Raising children
loving how she wants to
A big field to play on
without some cage
White picket fence to hold it all in,
wants to run a farm
Never liked the idea of
All the men shes collected
Raising animals,
Goats, cows, chickens
Preferred the two of them
working deep into the hours of the night
Talking through their problems
never sleeping
He doesn't trust
her life of addiction
The media
injected into her bloodstream
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
so she does
This kind of danger
what she needs to survive
Not a world to raise children
to love
He loves her
so many people love her
Can't cage this feeling
always touching, kissing, whispering
He is protector
one of the many lost souls in this forest
Loves feeling her head on his chest
her hips a curtain call to tragedy
If only for a moment
long enough to need her love
He'll never clip her wings
then she'll leave
Loves watching her fly
returning only to those she trust
He prays for her to come back
to deliver story books
for the children  
of goats, cows, chickens

There is a little boy kneeling in a chair playing with a toy tractor.
It keeps falling off the table
(Or he pushes it off)
Then he runs to pick it up and place it back on the table.
There is a diaper on the table.
(Which he also threw on the floor)
A baby has been placed at the table.
When asked the babys name, the little boy says:
"Robo Dog!"
I think that is an awesome name.
I wonder if when that baby grows up he will be emotionally unresponsive.
robotic
Charming player of a Dog
I won't follow these boys around their whole lives but assuming he is.
That little boy is a prophet.
So i'm watching the Prophet and Robo Dog
Throw things off the table and giggle.
Thinking about how simple
Pleasure can be for a child.
How intricate it can be for an adult.
When Prophet commands his Grammy to eat her bagel.
I cannot see them any more
They are sitting behind me in a booth
But I can only imagine she obliged
Or lifted to her mouth and pretended
I like to imagine this is Prophet and Robo Dogs first encounter with false truth.
But it looks like Prophet has a couple years of Holidays on Robo Dog
So that isn't quite true.

In 2009, The american disaster film "2012" was released.
Preparing for "The End of The World" was easy.

A piece of cardboard at a Red Light.


"2012 The End Is Nigh, What's a dollar?"


We might as well have smiled, given a friendly wave,
honked our horns like we were passing the Freeport Flag Ladies.


In 2012, I was in high school with my first job.

I didn't care that In the twinkling of an eye,

we were gonna hear God's last trumpet.

On Rapture-Eve, I set out "Milk N' Cookies" for the "Left-behind"

I left next mornings outfit on the side of the road as if Angels abducted me ****-*** naked mid-stride

Turns out, the red light never turned green.

The "left-behind" kept breeding

and Hell on earth just kept recruiting

Now it's 2020,

The Freeport Flag Ladies are in Quarantine,

the signs have needles in our eyelids like mechanical spiders,

You can't even turn the news off now,

I pick it up at CVS Like a Controlled substance prescription.

They make you call in once a month to get it refilled.

Some how my amazing wife Amy and I

Not only survived the rapture,
we brought a brand new life into it.

For 10 days we were locked in a hospital

We never looked at the news.

The world melted away as we danced together

Waiting to meet our little miracle.

After Amy was whisked away for intensive surgery
and survived the most unspeakably amazing thing in the world
a nurse eventually grabbed me and asked if I wanted to meet my daughter,
I was guided to a baby table

with knobs, meters, heat lamps,

and on a tiny cushion

in a tiny plastic crib,

My daughter.


Sophia Naomi Mae Coulombe.


wide eyed

staring into my pupils

wiggling

perfect

Now we are home.

No nurses, no IV.

Somehow it feels like the end of the world and all it's chaos
was the best thing that has ever happened to us.

Everything happened exactly when it needed too.


We couldn't have had better timing

if God planned it.

It's 2 AM
I'm propped against the outer brick wall of an abandoned ******* barrel.
I am 50% coffee
40% water,
10% *****.

The sprinklers pop out of the ground and mist the air
In my arms there's a woman I thought I'd never speak too again.
As puddles form and creep inwards,
Stopping just outside our warm bodies.
I'm holding her, puzzle piece, tightly.

She was my first high school girlfriend.

We saw each other in the same place, every year.
Every single time we had heart attacks.
Chanting to ourselves,
"Please don't notice me."
"Please don't notice me."
"Please don't notice me."

Tonight, lit only by the moon light and the lamp fixtures.
I'm holding her tight enough that we look chimera.
Experimental pieces, combined as one whole creature.
Neither of us, want to let go.

Rewind to this afternoon.
She's sitting on the grass next to our mutual friend
I attempt to pass by, unnoticed.
Tip-toe, heart attack.
"Hey Nick"
"****"
The friend jumps up faster than I can conjure words.
I'm trapped in her embrace.
She introduces us.

She thinks... we don't know each other.

A bulldozer hits the brick wall around my heart
That's been telling me to avoid this sweet girl.
We stare at each other like the sky is falling and we're paralyzed.

I kneel down in front of her and look at her like she isn't real.
She's terrified.
"How have you been."
Saying this, felt like a gunshot.

The recoil hits me as she repeats the same question.
Neither of us, have had a great time.

"So much life has happened...
That whatever we did too each other...
Wasn't nearly as bad as now.
If you want to be my friend, I could use one."

She's quiet, all but her breathing.
It gets heavier, and suddenly, the friend rushes to her side.
"Are you okay?"

"If you need me to leave i will, i didn't want to scare you,
If it's too much to see me right now i can go."

The anxiety fills her body like a thermometer.

It turns red and shatters.
She rushes to me and hugs me tight.

Her heart beats a million miles a minute.
She calms down and a tear drips on my neck.
I hold her close to me.

Finally, she manages to push out two words.
"We're talking."

"I know... it doesn't feel real."

"***** YOU!"
She screams, and jumps back.
"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you needed that."

So fast forward.
It's 2:00 am.
I'm buzzed. and it's freezing.
I've been hugging this girl for roughly two hours.
We both want nothing more then to kiss each other,
But we don't.

Because we both knew,
That was a terrible idea.

I tell her I sang our love song too another girl.
I tell her, I kept the jar of love notes she left me above my bed frame.

She tells me, she reads my poetry.
She tells me she cried, when bapbap died.
She tells me she's sorry, about my job
She tells me she's sorry, about my daughter.

I ask that we not be sorry, for things we can't control.

We remember the good times.
We laugh at them, relive, and enjoy them.

I have so many good memories, that hurt me so badly.
Tonight, I got some of those good times back.
It feels amazing, to just have a night that when
I relive my good memories, they don't hurt,
They Sing.

Take a look at all these stories.
Every detail marked in delicate pencil.
Inventory, backstory, spells per day.
You wrote these character sheets.

You put the devil's **** in their pockets.
Keen rapier on their hip.
Their numbers clasp fingers like chain mail.
You wear it like a valiant knight.

You look like an infant covered in pots and pans.
Clanging
Babbling
Holding colander to your head playing make believe.
It doesn't even fit you right.

This armor you made yourself doesn't even fit you right.

What are you if not a knight?
What are you if not an infant?

You've fought dragons, finished quests.
Conquered battles you didn't even want to fight.
At the end of every session you collected your experience and said "See ya next week!"
This session doesn't end.
You can't just stop rolling dice.
Have to keep playing.

Drink the +5 energy Brown Liquid.
Roll to see if your car starts.
Perception check to see if you hit that baby in a stroller.
Roll charisma to try and get a discount on that Pair of pants.
Nailed it.
You didn't check for traps in this relationship.
Take 15 heart damage.
Spend the next six months trying to recover.
You are noticed by a woman.
Roll initiative.
The girl goes first.
She tells you she loves you.
You're knocked prone.
She gets an attack of opportunity on your ability to sustain relationships.
You wonder why you wandered down this alley to begin with.
Roll for Charisma Burst.
It succeeds.
She is stunned.
You run.
Double your move speed.

Burst into the town bar.
You ask for quests.
They give you whiskey.

Your vision is slightly blurred
You wake up in strange place.
Roll a perception check.
It's an unfamiliar small apartment.
Your clothes seem to be by your side on the ground.
Roll me a knowledge check.
The apartment of some girl you hooked up with last night.
Your eyes peek up from the pillow and see a beautiful...
Man.
You did not roll very high on your knowledge check.

Roll dexterity to gracefully get up from the bed and leave quietly.
It fails.
You fall flat on your face to a loud THUMP sound.
The man wakes up and smiles down at you.
Roll initiative.
You go first.
You run out of there
Double your move speed.
Roll another Dex check to see how much of your stuff you were able to grab.
You snag your bag but you never bothered to put your clothes on
So you're running down the street in your boxers with a black backpack.

Roll perception to take inventory of your backpack.
You have a change of clothes that you packed for the next morning.

Socks +5 comfort
Boxers +5 freshness
Pants +10 decency
Shirt +2 Stain.

Your laptop and chargers are all in there.
You can't seem to find your phone.
Spend a luck point to reroll perception to find your phone.
Fails.
Spend another luck point to reroll perception to find your phone.
Fails.
Spend your last luck point to reroll perception to find your Oh, thank god.
You found your phone.
Call a cab
Get the hell out of this town.
Roll effectiveness of taking this shower.
Drink the +5 energy brown liquid.

There's no "That was a great session guys!"
"Congratulations! You slew the dragon! You all get 500 experience points!"
"See you all next week."

You just keep rolling.
And rolling.
Until one day it all stops.
You roll poorly,
Encounter something way above your level.
You can run.
Find a healer.
Get home, take a full rest.
You can't just make another character sheet.
There's nobody to look at your scraps of paper.
All the characters you rerolled to be who you are now.
Bits and pieces of all the wars, quests, dragons.
They're you.
Remember them,
Learn from them.
Keep rolling.

Two weeks after the breakup
I watched my reflection
******* trace a puffy purple bag.
under my eye, A smirk sprouted
A loud Sargent boomed in my skull

Dear Maggot,
As we march further
Into the territory of single life.
We, The voices in your head
Have voted unanimously
Thumper, The results.

Sir yes Sir.
Nick your descisions
in reguard to relationships
Were convicted of self-destruction.

Here is some Dating Advice
From the voices in your head.

1.
Don't Stick it in the Crazy.

2.
I'm serious nick. Stop sticking it in the crazy.

3.
Although ******* inside a woman
Whom loves you and wants a baby
Is a fulfilling, Romantic experience.
With Tinder dates this is no longer Routine.
******* inside a first date
Behind a lighthouse
Without a ******,
Should not be
YOUR FIRST INSTINCT
FOR ******* IDIOT

4.
Remember it is okay to **** your friends.

5..
remember it is not okay to Rebound **** your friends.

6.
Having *** with a new gender
For the first time
Is exactly like losing your virginity
All over again.
You have no idea what you like anymore.
Why isn't this working?
That doesn't go there, Oh
My god,
Please put that there.

7.
Some of your ex's
Will start talking to you again.
You should still probably not sleep with them.
Okay once, but now no more...
okay seriously
STOP SLEEPING WITH YOUR
...Oh never mind.

8.
When a girl reaches for a 2-liter of soda
After having *** in the backseat of your car.
Do not assume she's thirsty.
She may lift the soda bottle to her ******.
I know what you're thinking,
Yes it's that bad.
Watch!
As the soda.
Magically disappears!
When she spreads her legs and says:
"Drink from me"
...and of course when you say:
"No"
She will get extremely upset at you, and
Scream at how terrible of a person you are.
While squirting
****** coke
All over the back seat of your car.

Please be very clear
About where you stand
On drinking ****** coke
From the beginning.

9.
Just because someone is in a relationship,
Does not mean they won't sleep with you.
Asking if the boyfriend or husband is okay
With you guys.
Is a good first step to taking the higher ground.
Asking during ***
Might **** the mood.

10.
eat plenty of Potassium.
foot cramps ruin everything.

11.
Listen here maggot,
When a girl leaves something behind,
She probably wants a second date.
Even if what the woman left
Was ******* ****** coke
All over your brand new leather seats.

12.
STOP.
STICKING IT
IN
THE CRAZY.

13.
Some of the people you sleep with.
By some miracle,
Will still want to talk to you.
You crazy *******.
They might make amazing friends.
You might even have *** again.
If you're lucky,
They'll teach you something

Under heavy fire from enemy forces
I hide behind a concrete barrier.
Blind fire spray
take out a man and a woman.
tumble behind a wall, pop up
Shoot a third.
run down a corridor. Spot a fellow soldier
"group up!"
as we Charlie's angels back to back. He immediately drops to the ground.
"Evan!" no time to mourn. I'm in cross hairs
run down a tunnel watching my back.
Turn around to spot the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.
Wearing the wrong color.
Tread quietly up behind her.
before she can even see me,
hold hip, hand tangled in hair,
kiss her against a barrier.
while she's stunned.
We lock eyes and exchange smirks.
I Shoot her.

"You fight *****!" she screams, as her vest beeps and recharges
Coming to life just in time to get revenge before I'm completely out of site.

when the game was over we
told war stories.
"We need to do that again sometime!"

Having a partner with mental illness is not a low-level quest.

Having a partner with mental illness is debatably the best quest in the game and has incredibly valuable Loot.

"I am farming so much exp off of this argument right now."

"I just scored some mad reputation points with your parents."

"Hey, can we do that over again? I didn't get the drop I wanted."

Erasure & Found Poem from
"On Photography By Teju Cole in april 16th new york times magazine

--

You were The fast moving disaster of a tsunami
added to the slow motion disaster
of a nuclear calamity

Towns flooded
Infrastructure wrecked
Forests splintered
more than 15,000 people dead.
earthquake cut off
my external power supply
Floodwaters damaged my backup generators
Disabled it's cooling system
Overheating ensued
Fuel in three reactor cores melted
Releasing radiation

Everyone saw The water coming in
The roads swept away
Towns and harbors destroyed

Extensive documentary work
was undertaken by photographers
Of the ruins,
Debris,
Cleanup and relief operations

The gut-wrentching scale of destruction
The professionalism of the emergency crews
The fortitude of the survivers

The extreme uncertainty I feel
in our current political moment
helps me understand for the first time
the curious twinship
of mourning and premonition.

Information
about the tragedy
Sorrow for the suffering it caused
Gratitude for the work
that makes sorrow visible
Foreboding about the future.

An alert flashes
your phone
Something terrible has happened
Far away, a flood, an airstrike,
Soon, there's footage of people picking through wreckage
what used to be their homes

It is easy to pity them
Difficult to imagine this will be you
Suddenly bereft of a solid place in the world.

Listening to anything
that touches on the sublime
makes me apprehensive.

Like The silence that greets us
waking in the middle of the night

I've got my warrior ******* on
Wolverine lent me these acrylics

Lasso your credit card with my weave
Tuck your tunnel vision in my G-string

This is my ******* song
Got my bad girl heels on

You can't get me off your mind
So how you gonna get me off

Come over to the throne room
I've got an after for you baby

What other religion costs $25 per song

Give me your devotion
I want Matronage
Ritual

When I was 19 I turned days into kalediscopes
Water into water
Paper covers rock
And coke cures a bad trip

Trip over my perfume

You won't spend money on me High on life
So let's get you depressed

Tell me your story sad boy
I've got rent to pay.

Fight or flight
A gut response.

I've bathed in hatred dressed like leathermans pointed at my ribcage.

Jumped off rooftops thinking the ground was softer than my future.

Told woman to choke me until I purple
Purple plays verb safer than run
Than scream
than remember.

When your sancuary
Has a spotlight on the one thing you've been escaping from.
Fight or flight.

"Hello"
You tap her shoulder.
Confirm she's not your hallucination.
You still aren't sure.
You couldn't touch long enough.

Do not ask.
"where is she?"
Or "so you're an alcohaulic now?"
Or "are you having a panic attack? Because I'm having a panic attack.
And you used to always have panic attacks.

Do not pose:
If I avoid the streets of an entire city
So I won't cross your path.
whether you are there or not.
See Your ghost in the deli,
Order gelato, carrying a carseat.
hear your name
reach out to thin air
that belongs in my lungs.

Why, beautiful disaster
Are you skipping your A.A. meeting
Sitting at this bar, that I call home.
Drinking on a stool that with one moment
Belongs to your ghost now.

how did you stumble into this bomb shelter?
Were the salt circles not enough to keep you out?
have I not been loud enough?
I preach the Gospel of this microphone.
Everyone within a ten mile radius of a screen
knows I come here at this time
on this day
every week

If you ever want to see me.
I'll be here.
I can't leave.

You can.
You don't have to.
I mean, I didn't invite you.
But when has that ever stopped you before?
If you need to face me head on.
Come.
I need you too.
Let's dance
Forget the empty dresser covered in princess stickers
Forget the swirling mattress of our lies and mistakes.
**** Google+
your perfect ***,
the photographs I can't delete.

Jump on this bar table with me.
Show them how it breaks under our weight.
Smash that beer against the wall
Jam the broken bottle in my ribs
I promise you.
I will ******* feel it.
If my blood doesn't spill out.
If my pain doesn't splatter this godamned stage.
If a single person in this room forgets
This dance
When we purple.
our bodies slammed off every dining room table
Shatter wine glasses into chapbooks
tear off your fake smiling mask
throw it at a nearby ******.
Naked screaming killing each other.
When we blackout.

your ghost will still be sitting at the godamned bar haunting me.

And it's funny
Why does it hurt?
It's not like I go a day
without seeing you anyway

4/12/17

She said she moved across the countrey to
Get away from her sister
They got a divorce and it was
Against her beleifs.
Against God.
I told her firmly
That i empathized
How it must be hard to move across
The world, to pack up everything
Just for your morals
She said she and her husbamd moved in with the ex husband her sister
And that the whole family besides herself
Supported her sister.
I said that must be hard.
Then when she loved me
Knew i understood.
I promptly told her i was polyamorous.
That my lover moved to ireland
To live with her husband
Packed up everything
And how hard that must be
and She did not flinch
I held her as she cried on my shoulder
She in the fifteen moments I saw her
Realized there is a whole world of differences
She can find comfort in when she is alone
She never once knew what I thought of her
Morals
How In my family we have divorce celevrations.
How ending is always a new beginning
How you can love amd still realize that a forever is going to make you miserable
Or never having a baby will **** you
Or being ***** every night is going to torture you
Even if the abuser is your own husband
I worry for her safety.
A woman who doesn't beleive in the word stop.
Doesn't consider leaving
Or letting go
I could never trust someome like that.
I would never be able to see them without feeling regret.
There is no words for the sorrow I place in that body of theirs.
And it is not my place to change it.
But I can tell them how happy i've been
Letting go someone I love, forever.
Not because We are unhappy.
Just because it was time for them to go.
Tell her how I still love them.
How i miss them every day, but it does not depress me.
It enlightens me.
Tell them of all my happy memories
libraty labrynth where she made me look her up with the dewey decimal system
Ice skating and backwards buttwiggles
Every time we stayed up late and I whispered that she existed.
Because even I wasn't convinced.
Now that she's left.
I'm still not.

But I will never forget either of them.

A little girl found a deck of cards
On her daddy's poker table.

She always knew how to make a home
Out of a gambler.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She built a tower, stories tall.
When daddy returned, it never fell.
The boys bet his chips around it.

We built this family with a house of cards
Steady hands and racing hearts.
We built this family with a house of cards.
Queen of hearts, two of cups.

Daddys a fool, played his part
Just half a step into the dark
When A little girl found a deck of cards
Sitting on her mommys altar.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She watched her house of cards grow.
When mommy returned to Tarot.
The cards had found themselves
a different owner.

We built this family with a house of cards
A good read, a bad hand.
We built this family with a house of cards.
The fool, The queen of hearts

The dealer busts, we grow old
A little girl can build a home.
With nothin' but two decks of cards
Shuffled all together

******* google plus.

I spent days deleting pictures of them off my phone.
Click update profile picture, and suddenly,
There's a beautiful girl standing at an ATM through a window covered in raindrops.
a little girl with smile wider han galaxies pulls the last jenga peice
Maybe I don't want to look at the three of us snuggled cozy smiling.
Maybe i don't want to see my old phones wallpaper.
That i changed to forget this happiness.
Maybe the hearth of that home burned ob these photographs.
On barbie doll soap opera ******
On match box car roller derbie.
On film strands ripped from the winding projectors of playground games and princess dresses and faces covered in cake.

******* google plus.
you didn't even ask if I wanted to save those memories.
or at least when you did, I had a different answer.

a lot of my religious friends try to explain to me what god feels like.
They often tell me something along the lines of.
"It's like the love he offers is just so big that it overwhelms you."
or
"it's like he is so understanding and comforting that you just feel completely loved."

I never really got it before I was broken.
I'm still not religious.
But when I think about how I feel about woman, it's very similar.

It's not that I fall in love with one woman.
or that I fall in love with a whole bunch of woman.

It's more like there is so much love coming from every single woman as a whole.
that it just is an all encompassing cloud of feeling less lonely.

so I flirt.
I flirt with every single woman.
sometimes they flirt back.
every healthy word sounding like another warm pair of hands on my shoulders.

I legitimately fall in love at first sight with millions of people.

I'm lonely.
need the touch,
company.
words.

When I say I need you, or I love you,
I mean it.

When I don't say it
I mean it too.
just think you'll leave if you find out.

But
I'd rather be on a porch drinking a beer with friends, then alone in my bed sexting some tinder match from new hampshire.

I'm not doing this for the ***.
don't care at all about the ***.
I just wanna be next to someone.
So when people say they beleive in god,
I understand them in my own way.
They just don't wanna be lonely.
I pray to woman all day long.
worship their bodies like alters.
Woman are this glowing cloud of comfort.

So when one says she wants me to be with me forever.
To be my True religion.
It sounds like I touched God.

When the apocalypse happens
the aliens and Archeologists
will at least have our art.

Fading asleep
Three blurry forks in the road
three of everything
Until i blink.
I crawled up out my passenger side door like a submarine hatch
lifted the heavy weight with my back
Didn't think to roll down the window

I called the band to laugh at the irony
we just wrote a song on falling asleep
crashing our car, dreaming in autumn.
In the song, I dreamed of a girl I'll never have.
But when it happened
I was dreaming of the leftover sheppards pie at home.

Swerved into a rock wall,
Kick flipped my mercury on it's side.
I wore my seat belt
woke up drivers door to the ground.

An old man stopped to warm me.
my grandmothers ghost
in his passenger seat.
offered I sit in their car
out of the cold
Until the firemen arrived.

I saw my mother's blue SUV coming
And waved for the elderly couple to part.
tears in my mothers eyes,
she hugged me tight.
The police showed
To Check out the scene.
as I was alive,
They mostly watched me.
laughing hysterically
At how prophetic poetry can be
and how lucky I have been
And how my shoulder angels are my grandmother, and a gambler named risk.

When My partner arrived she expected me crumpled bleeding.
Smiling false safety through the phone
as I bled out
But I was fine.
she stormed towards me.
her friends stepping outside the car.
her girlfriend in the passenger seat
in the fetal position.
Throwing a tantrum, because she wouldn't get to sleep with my security blanket tonight.

she held me greiving.
I felt like this was an alternate universe.
where I survived
and this wasn't the real story.

The tow truck arrived as the cops collected my Lisence,
the medical professional
okay'd me to sleep tonight.

The firemen flipped my car onto the rockwall from being sideways.
The tow truck grinded my car across the wall into metally pulp.
They collected the bits and dropped it off on my driveway a mile down the road.
my partner drove her friends home
to return to my bed later.
check i was breathing throughout the night.

My car, crumpled. Missing an eye. Looked like a corpse.
like a reminder of what should have happened.
you could feel all sorts of spirits
when I opened the trunk.
contents compacted against the left side.
when i woke up, all i saw was laughter.
At the irony.
the shock.
how many more times
I would need to die
before I perform a magic trick.
if i turned my car into powder
turned my story to a falacy.
how long before their panic attacks become a suicide?
And I'll stop seeing three of everything.

I want you to know that you are precious to me.

Not precious like some rare stone around a ring finger or
a sentimental gift.

precious like a photograph of a child in your wallet.
precious like a young girl finding kitten wearing red ribbon under her Christmas tree.
precious like a young girl holding cardboard box kitten.
precious like a mother Glowing. singing to her belly
precious like a mother holding a cardboard box.
precious like ashes on a fireplace.
precious like a photograph in a wallet.

see, when I met you.
we had no idea how long we'd love each other.
we didn't question we did.

when you said you were leaving.
I Asked, "do you have a bucket list?"

What's next?
We did everything on it.
Went skinny dipping,
Climbed a rooftop
Went to a seafood restaurant
Because, you hadn't yet.

Then the day before you left you said:
"I love you"
quiet.
underneath your breath, so I wouldn't notice.

"what was that?"
I would ****.
You'd turn 50 shades of red.

"You've sure been sending a lot of hearts through text lately.
did you say you love me?"

You nodded, but never spoke up.

I kissed you.
"I love you too."

You didn't say it again for awhile, but,
I did.
So many times that I lost track
then every once in awhile
1,595 Miles away.
you'd send me a facebook message
you were wearing my cologne, you missed me, you loved me.

I would glow brighter than the moon each time.

Now you're coming back.
In just one week I get to hold you again.
kiss you again.
like a photograph jumping out of it's film to breath.
You are so precious to me.
Just thinking about touching your hand.
looking you in the eyes to hear you say any words to me.
Listen to your dreams, Build us a living room, and Make them happen!
because every precious thing happens there.
A fireplace, a Christmas tree, a carpet covered in pointy children's toys.
Your clumsy body and my clumsy body, interlocking fingers watching pointless Television.

Because we can.
Because you're home.

Well this machine just wasn't built right.
the receptor only processes certain sounds that it's familiar with
or images that seem to
not really exist,
motors seem to be weak
only get enough juice to function
above low power
when the system is running on the backup generator.
even then it only can move for about
an hour
it needs to be shut down for eight hours
every night
and take a fifteen minute break
every two hours
so it's really only useful 14 hours a day
at best
and if you ever forget to shut it off
or try to leave it on more then that
you'll need to send it back
to the shop
for thirty days
we recommend washing it every morning
and putting these capsules in the top
when you boot it up
it may make mistakes less often
or it could self destruct
chances are if you remember to shut it off
it will not destroy itself
there are better models but they are for display
to make you see how much more you
need to tend to this model
we really need you to know
how much care this machine takes
it doesn't do everything it's capable of but it can do
pretty much everything.

I keep waking up to sunsets
Affinity for the moon I suppose.
the fireflies, cold air.

I've felt happier at night my whole life
Sitting in elementery school
popcorn reading
Headphones plugged into a PSP
Blaring mindless self iindulgence
Putting me to sleep through the day
So I could level up my nightelf hunter in World of Warcraft until 5am
And sleep through social anxiety.

For awhile I woke up at 4am to serve you coffee.
Seven years addicted
I loved that too.
Traded coca-cola for drinking it black
My coffees color is the smog in Chicago
This nightlife is my real addiction.
That's why I love the graveyard shift.
Devouring untold stories
assisted living facilities.
This Goldmine of consentrated Wisdom
Parkinsons Orchestra Doctorates.
Politicians prepared for Death

Rabbis still flirting with nurses
remembering the whole torah service by heart
forgetting their wives name.

For my sunset
I like to imagine a big desk
A wall of glass
The top of a grey tower.
I want to Birth a skyscraper.
I want to stand staring out my wall of window back turned to my coffee cup
watch how beautiful stasis can be when you shatter through it.

I like to pretend each sunset
Is a death that wasn't mine.
I like to count the deaths in assisted living
As sunsets.
I like to read obituaries like sunsets.
I keep waking up
To sunsets

Whatever happened that night is something we both needed.
As for the future,
I'm not worried about it.
We both learned stuff  
Made a memory
Whatever happens next happens.
Even if that means you can't look at me.
Even if that means we get to be friends.
I'm not crossing my fingers for some crazy outcome of "us".
Magical as that may be,
We only saw two shooting stars
At the time neither of us had anything to wish for
Except the night to never end.
And if we never forget it then it never will.
You have an amazing man who loves you.
I'm just a memory who helped you realize that.
I finally realized I'm not trapped in a bubble of meaningless ***,
I can actually love someone again.
Even though it was placed in an unobtainable
Chimera of every single thing I could possibly love,
At least now I know I can feel that.
And that makes me more happy than any
Ill-fated prophecy.
You love your husband.
And if a day comes you can look at me and call me friend
I'll be ready for it.
I'll greet you with a handshake and a smile
I promise I'll never advance on you again.
I won't ever try to contact you until I know it's appropriate,
Out of respect.
I've been in his shoes and it's awful
There's nothing I can due but stop talking to you.
So I'll do just that.
Until it's okay again.
Thank you for everything.
I needed you as much as you needed me.
I will never feel awkward when I see you.
I hope someday it goes both ways.
I don't feel bad or seduced or betrayed.
I just feel happy to have met you.
Because I never would have been able to get over what my ex did to me
If I wasn't in the shoes of the man who took her.
I finally realized it wasn't his fault.
I don't have to hate him.
It wasn't her fault either.
Sometimes people just feel things.
And that's okay.
Because in the end, we make decisions,
And feel other things.

Goodbye until you decide to say hello.
You're an amazing girl and he's lucky.

Today, we have surgery
I sink my chest into yours.
Your blood pumping through my veins for a bit,
I feel heavy.

I want to turn to a whisp.
Like the Night Elves in World of Warcraft.
A floating blue orb of energy
weightless electricity,
Spirit in the power lines, like that spark we felt.
Tealight in a gas stove, left on for 6 months

When I am cremated
My ashes will be Kept in little ziplock baggies,
Filed away in the back seat of my mothers car,
Until she parks in a bad part of town
You break in
Leave the quarters for the tolls
Leave the GPS cupped to the windshield.
Then snort me, in my mothers backseat.
Thinking you just hit the jack ***.
That's where I will be.
Charcoal cave painting your nasal cavity
coating the inside of your lungs like a cigarette.
Replacing your addiction.

This surgery
The Aorta of copper perfume,
Scalpels summoning blood,
I, scavenged from the wreckage

my heart inside you,
the rest scrapped in a kiln.

If they botch the surgery
cold Iron will be the last thing you smell.

I, a spark
grounding from your chest.

Heart still beating.

I once saw a winter tree
With **** 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 ****.

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.

Demons are born in
the venn diagrams of who
you are vs. who
you want to be.

Eclipsing the hell
portals is the only way
to seal the gate to
mental illness.

the only way to
lasso your planetary
pie charts is to self
actualize.

Beating you isn't like
beaters in a cakemixer, my love.
You can't cover a cake
in moans and whimpers.
No matter how much frosting we lick up,
No matter how hot we make the room.
We still can't bake a cake with our bodies.
We don't have the right ingredients.
We need eggs
flour
salt and milk and
Actually I guess you do have most of those things
All we really need is flour.
Hold on,
I'll go buy some flour.
We can pour it all over ourselves
and bake a cake.

The field is covered in bright green grass that He,
The baby dragon nibbles on.
I'm allergic to grass but I like watching him eat it.
know it fills him up.
The blades start rustling and we hear a train.
The sky gets bright forming a giant mushroom
I should hide in my brick shelter but he,
The baby dragon gets off on the danger of it all.
I am advised to just stand by.
Wait for the sky to clear
When the billow clouds pass
He'll be standing there.
Charred, Alive, Stumbling towards me.
I can catch him
Bandage his wings.

So I wait.
But while I'm blinded by these radiation fueled lights
I cry, and scream
Completely useless.
He flies off
waves of radiation singe past me.
Face Burning.
Skin Boiling.
I call "Dragon!"
"Baby Dragon!"
But he never answers.
Too busy getting lost in the wasteland.
Soaking in the radiation.
Loves the way it burns.
So I just sink
crawl towards what I think is his
Cold, mutated, dead body.
left behind by the whirring storm of the end.
And I rip it's wings off
Crying and screaming
Snot pouring down my face
Dust storm lashing cross my back
Red gashes against the
Glowing bright green sky
Loud muted sandy horror

Until It stops.
Goes quiet.
When I wake up.
The grass is gone.
He is standing there.
Baby dragon.
Not Scarred. Not Tired.
But stumbling forward into my arms.
His wings full of pride, glowing
Wrap around us and hug tight.
"I missed you." He says
"I love you". He says
I was the one charred, boiled.
But the baby dragon mends my blisters.
Rubs my head
whispers my name.
we count the seconds together.
Before the train noises start again.