J Christmas: Favorites

Nov 2012 J Christmas

September

Two men in a jail cell.
One with a scalpel.
One roped to a chair.

The man with a scalpel,
He is no medicine man—
He is a torturer.

The man in the chair,
He is no prisoner of war—
He is a civilian.

Weeks pass by and
The door never opens
Until—

On the one-hundrenth night
Out of the cell, crawls
Only one man

On his skin, there lies
A masterpiece.
A raised rendition of "Starry Night."

Eyes glance back into
His previous prison,
Only to find—

An empty chair.
A scalpel.
A reflection.

I would not like to cloud the story up with rhyme.

Nov 2012 J Christmas

Little Slow Suicide Boy

Nov 2012 J Christmas

September

Little Slow Suicide Boy

Little slow suicide boy
Has lips tainted frozen blue
From threefold the norm amount
Of ecstasy's strong hue.

Little slow suicide boy
Has lungs of ravaged tar
*** combined with cigarettes--
Mind gaining ground on a star.

Little slow suicide boy
Finds sunshine in the rain
Happiness in depression
Places the needle to his vein

Little slow suicide boy
Scorns the girl with a slashed wrist
Scorns the boy who is dying to exist
But one fall into a lifeless choke.

Takes another drag, blows out smoke.

Nov 2012 J Christmas

Cardiac Arrest

Nov 2012 J Christmas

September

Cardiac Arrest

Cardiac arrest
Read me all the rights I have left.
Cuff me up
In the vein of the law
I must remain silent:
I know to withdraw.
Love, he is a lock down.
"We've got a
Code Red
—blood cell.

Cardiac arrest
Read me all the rights I do not have left,"
he said.

Nov 2012 J Christmas

Love: In and of the High.

Nov 2012 J Christmas

September

Love: In and of the High.

Threw
my hand to my heart
fingers on the needle.
Plunged it
down.
(My hand
hit yours
on its path!)

Oh,
Intensity.

Do you not
feel as good
as I do
right next
to you?

When I tell
you of how
I feel, you
say, "shut up.
You're not
sober."

Yes?
Does that have
something to
do with this?

I love you
still in the high.
In the morning
after.
In the crest of
waiting for my next
dip.

If I were sober
for a straight amount
of the little time
that we have,
I would love
you then
like I love
you now.

Can you tell
what I
am on?

Nov 2012 J Christmas

Do You?

Nov 2012 J Christmas

September

Do You?

Oh, mother, mother!
Do you see me,
smiling
at the needle?
Mother, mother?

Oh, friends, friends!
Do you hear me,
laughing
from the addiction?
Friends, friends?

Oh, nurse, nurse!
Do you smell
the wafting
iron?
Nurse, nurse?

Oh, world, world!
Do you feel me
grasping
your wrist?
World, world?

Oh, Amanda, Amanda!
Do you taste your
bleeding
vein?
Amanda, Amanda?

The mother—
The friends—
The nurse—
The world—
And I—
Answer, *"no."

Nov 2012 J Christmas

Cuddling the Cultlery

Nov 2012 J Christmas

DieingEmbers

Cuddling the Cultlery

I need no other spoon but the one we share.

Spooning - lieing together or the welsh tradition of the loving spoon