Somewhere between Gluttony and Vainity, I suppose.

Love is like stepping on a nail,
then running.

Sometimes, when I say your name,
you wince.
(I want to force you into a corner and press up against you)
Your face in a grimace;
you cringe,
(I want to ravage you savagely)
as if you're in pain.
(I want to turn into sand and bury you alive)
(I want to take these two hands and tear you apart)
It's quite rude, really,
(I want to bite off your lips and devour your heart)
but I don't hold it against you.
It seems involuntary.
(I want to explode on you then swallow what's left)
I think there might be something wrong with you.
(I want to **** all the life right out of your breath)
More than anything though,
(I want to turn into a river and drown you in the flood)
I'd like to know
(I want to spread through your body, bones, and blood)
why.

These poems are for posterity (because mind-loss runs in the family.)
I dedicate all this poetry to my progeny, but most importantly,
to the one and only Future Me.
That old guy who's worn out and world-weary.
The one who's losing his memories,
and can't keep track of what he thinks.

These are all for you.

I'll record the lowest lows and highest highs.
Presented for the perusal of his (yours, my) rheumy eyes.
I might embellish at times -
I might even lie.
I just want to be able to look back and realize:
It's been an incredible life.

A patchwork quilt.
A square of some color.
One semblance of meaning;
What we meant to each other.

A rainbow coat.
One chromatic series.
A shade of you.
A tint of me.

My muse can be annoying but I find it quite amusing.
She takes the cake when it comes to making the commonplace confusing.
Does she like it when I'm climbing,
or would she rather see me fall?
She's either dumb as a wall or just doesn't care at all.
Schadenfreude. Paramountcy. Trounced then disenthralled.
I'm forced to use these great big words because she makes me feel so small.

Love is a fiction being written in the moment and read in the past,
and it only lasts for as long as both parties involved believe it to be true.

I know you.
I like you.
We've similar parts inside our heads.

But I know it's not like you
to ever want to share a bed.

Supercilious satirists sipping scotch with seriousness
while discussing super silly stories
in a state of semi-deliriousness.

It may come to you as a shock,
but I've never held back.
Even when you were stuck on this.
Especially when you were stuck on that.

I'm not here to announce the fact
that there was something going back and forth.

I held your words in the palm of my hand;
blew on them for luck,
then spread my fingers and took a chance.

It may come to you as a surprise,
but I've never been afraid to roll the dice.
With you I always felt lucky.
I never expected to roll snake eyes.

Sadistic Queen,
how are you so mean?
Your punches are subtle,
but leave me with internal bleeding.

I love the way it stings.

Bring me another poisoned fruit from your tree.
Make my stomach ball tighter than a white-knuckled fist.
Hit me again,
you beautiful bruiser.
I've never before felt a pain such as this.

You are a *******'s *******.
Take one step closer and I swear, I'll scream.
****** ****** doesn't even hold a candle
to this twisted, grisly, nightmarish scene.

It's almost more than I can handle.
Stop it.
Stop it!
You're hurting me!

Feel the heart that sinks through floors.
Float the farce -
crawl on all fours.
A spider never lost its step
when caught in its own web.
Weave the trail that eats the mist.
**** it in.
Explode essence.

Twilight sprinkles tinkling in the fog.
Swirling eddies in a shot of egg nog.
Snowmen wearing blonde wigs with broomstick arms.

What the hell,
it's Christmas.

There is a place that we don't like to revisit.
A topic that perpetually stays off limits,
but every now and then,
stars in space align in such a way
that cause us to relive it.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,"
Said the blind cyclops in his customer review,
which is filed in the Physically-Disabled-Yet-Still-Insightful folder of our Customer's Reviews.
A folder seldom perused by our super,
who seems to prefer deferring all menial mentally-unstable issues to those who are new to the feild.

I hesitate to inform them that "field" is the type of word that I've always been notorious for misspelling.

That's one hell of a spider web,
but I like the way it vibrates.
If it takes two to tango then how many more do we need to tap dance?
I think I fell out of the Conga Line and into the river.
These **** shoes will be the death of me.

That's one heaven of a flower arrangement.
Congratulations on your spatial awareness.
If I had a few more of these then I think I'd finally be able to understand the extent of our particular disease.
It seems we're always partying on a molecular level.

I don't proclaim to know the half-truth of secrets spoken in ancient tongues.
It's all a bit too convoluted,
but if you pull this tab right here then the whole thing comes undone.
And yea sure,
maybe now we're more vulnerable but that just makes it more fun.

I grew up watching my parents reduce themselves to their bassist.
Oops, that's a typo:
They are not musicians.
Debasement, so crass.
Humiliation on full blast.
But I guess it's a fairly common thing to dread family vacations.

My mom can't take the hint.
She can't tell when we're disinterested.
My dad talks a bunch of crazy **** despite who might be listening.

There's an unspoken comraderie amongst us siblings.
We're all in this together.
We fight our inherited,
unwanted,
self-destructive tendencies.
When I lose a battle I can always count on them to make me feel better.

Two have found ther wings.
They flew away from this place.
One soars high,
but I fear the other found himself another cage.

It's okay, I think.
I mean, I think he'll be okay.
As for us remaining two,
we're slowly making our way.
Our way out, is what I mean.
It's what I meant to say.

This nest hasn't been kept very warm,
but I guess it's still a home.
With two featherless,
flightless birds to deal with;
I'm glad I didn't have to go it alone.

I've decided against advancing toward her goals.
They hold nothing for me.
A thing like this can't be bought with gold,
though I sold it all for silver.
Melted down to form a mirror.
I think I saw someone else reflected.
A stranger's eyes seem clearer when my own are so
blind.

The reasons I stopped talking to you had more to do with my own personal shortcomings than with anything you did.

I used to climb onto the roof just to feel closer to the stars,
and tonight I climbed a ladder then wondered where you are.
Sleeping safe and sound in the warmth of your bed?
I wish I were your pillow,
to know the thoughts in your head.

Do you ever dream of me?
To know would be too much.
Instead, I'll climb to greater heights
and wish on stars for luck.

Oh yea, that one is great
I think I'll buy it right now, and right here
Except I spent half my cash on cigarettes
And the other half on beer

And it's so faux tragic
And totally lame
But I can't seem to face the shame
These are nothing but my parents' bad habits
So I'll leave them to shoulder the blame

Because I'm still young
Nieve of what I may become
Even though I have the living reminders

It seems I've got piles of strong ear plugs
And a never ending supply of blinders

Kiss this goodbye
Somewhere beyond the clouds in the sky
Something is falling
Slower than I
Have fallen before
A monster hides on the other side of my door

Bid thee farewell
I am forbidden to tell
Of the place where they've hidden
Of the place I will dwell
Of the things I have found
My mind is still . . .
Reeling

Sliding, finding nothing now
The sky is north
The sea lies south
I open the door and try to get out
Open the door and try to get out
Open to try how to figure this out
A monster no more than two eyes and a mouth

Why is it always everything all at once?
I've rejected the world I had, and I've been rejected by the world I want
Nobody seems to like me much lately
I've embraced this "I feel things more deeply than you, and you don't understand" mentality
And yet I'm the one going around calling everyone else pretentious
That too, I noticed I've been saying "I" and "me" a lot more than I ought to
At least a dozen times by this sentence.
The irony always kills me in the end
8,
no wait
9
12
10

A swift crack to the head and suddenly I'm off my feet again.
A bit of paranoia settling in.
A lingering sense of regret over things unsaid.
Things I might want to give to friends just in case I never see them again.

A quick jab to the ribs and suddenly I'm taking it all in.
Seeing the importance of it.
The implications of knowing where to begin.
Beginning again after everything else has come to an end.

A clenched jaw with fingernails digging in.
A slip of the tongue that should've been bitten off.
A song sung while lying in a field thirty yards from the bar.
A poster hung from the walls of the place where we used to live.
A bit of bone sticking out from a sawed-off limb.

A fist hits me in the stomach and suddenly I can stomach anything.
The twists and turns and cigarette burns and the lessons twice learned but never accepted.

This is how it starts.

In the whirlwinding downpour I can see what it's for
Some semblance of a peace of mind disguised as wanting more
And filtered through your anecdotes I see the picture clearly
A moment as profound as this I'll never hold so dearly

Sincerely this time, I really must go
I'm combating with the ghosts of things that I can never know

Give me your hand, a hug, please just something
Because this ain't enough; I'm dissolving into nothing
I need one more chance, two more lives, three more times
So that I may reapply it to the format of my mind

The herald of hedonism dove headlong into his own soft spot,
with just enough pressure to puncture it.
Awash in thoughts of lost humbleness;
Swimming in his own *****.

Tore the skin to reveal blood and guts.
Nothing left but guts and blood.

Animated by some force of destruction.

What price have you paid for that countenance so vain?
Besides the cost of makeup
and hunger pains

My dear, I'm afraid
You've lost more than you've gained

That army of boys all waiting in limbo
Does it please you so to have those dogs at your toes?
Sorry excuses for men who will never know respect
If you ever gave it to one of them they'd move right on to the next

Don't count me among the many trying to take you to bed
I'm more interested with what's in your head
And in yours all I can see is a complete lack of depth

Surfing on the waves of the apocalypse,
our hero dives deep to grab the wings of angel fish
then spins with hands full 'til he's at the center of a whirlpool capable of drowning the world.

The reaper appears in the eye of a storm,
and as our hero peers into the depth of his cowl,
he's surprised to find a smiling caricature of his own face.

(This is the part where the main character blasts off into outer space.)

Armed with a bottle full of light,
he slays the wicked worms boring holes through his brain.
With the combined might of all the stars that remain,
he smites the dark matter beast before it can retreat to the unseen place between all things.

But victory is bittersweet,
as our hero soon discovers that he can no longer breathe.
For lack of the existence of gaps,
his lungs collapse beneath the crushing weight of everything as it condenses into one solid mass with an atomic number quickly approaching infinity.

Everything goes black,
then suddenly . . .
BANG!

My body is a home.
Our limbs are bent tree trunks writhing in a storm.

Your breath is wind I bend to swallow.
My eyes are black holes that pull you in.
Our tangled limbs are frozen forever on some forgotten event horizon.

Ever-conscious of the cage,
We take comfort in our cells.
Dreaming of escape,
But making no attempt to free ourselves.

Who're you getting back at?
This act has to be directed at someone.
Are they watching?
Will they see
the instagramed photos of you kissing me?
Will it make them jealous?
Will it make them angry?
Will it result in a late night text message that reads;
"Please come back to me!"

Where is this seemingly bottomless well that you draw strength from?
Has it always been there?
How did you find it?

Sometimes confusing what we want with want we need,
and when it all falls apart;
oh, how we bleed.

Whether a steady downpour,
or a soft, subtle drip.
"I'd rather be alone right now,"
but we're together in spirit.

The silent one.
The stoic one.
The prideful one.
The hot head.
We've all been hurt before.
Oh, how we've bled.

But a stone's blood is cold,
and the darkest shade of red.
If and when it flows,
it only ever does so
slowly.

"You take care of yours,
and I'll take care of mine.
Now, if you don't mind;
please just leave me be."

*******.
Holy ******* ohmygod where the **** have you been my whole life?
Good gorgeous holy God.
Is this really happening?
Do you really exist?
Do you mean to say that you really actually genuinely exist?
This is incredible!

How have you been here this whole time and I've just had no idea?
This whole time!?
It hardly seems fair,
but I don't even care anymore;
It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter because you're here now.

Turns out that life was only pretending to be cruel and unjust and ugly before.
Turns out that it was all just the the set-up to the biggest and greatest revelation that anyone in the history of the world has ever experienced.
Turns out that every disgrace, every bad choice, every ache and pain endured was all worthwhile;
For your face.
Your voice.
Your smile.

Do you remember that time?
My family has a home video of it.
It was my birthday,
and we were little kids,
and there's this moment in it
where we are standing quietly -
Staring at each other
Awkwardly.
You smile and giggle,
and I smile too,
but only a little,
because I'm trying to be still.

When I see it, it's like walking into a time portal.

I remember what I'd said to you.
I remember how I'd felt:
Like everything was moving too fast,
so I asked you for some help.

I said,
"Just stand here a minute. Don't move.
Let's just stand here for a second."

And you did.
And there it is!
Us standing awkwardly right in the midst
of chaotic childhood revelry -but removed from it.

We're like two young souls frozen
forever in a moment that made no sense,
and when I see it,
I long for that first loss of innocence.

The surface seems sweeter the deeper you go.
Please give me your hand.
I'm too far below.

It's always darkest right before dawn.
How long have I been sleeping on rock bottom?
Have you got a breathing apparatus on?
I'm sending signals in waves.

This is a new kind of certain old craze:
holding one's breath til the end of their days.

A good captain always goes down with his ship.
Easily done when there are no lifeboats attached to it.

I'm shooting up flares.
Is anyone there?
They sail right on by when you no longer care.

It's not until you start swimming toward the shallows
that you discover how deep of water you were in.

Perhaps I should've thought twice before partaking in this hike.
My legs are killing me.
I'm tired all the time.
My dreams only remind me of all the trips that I've had.

Short stories with breakfast
A novel at lunch
Non-fiction for dinner
but not too much
Passion at night
The most eloquent dreams
Waking with dawn's light
and feeling serene

It spilled out and the ***** swept it up.
A ghost wearing sheets that were brought to your mouth.
Don't tell me 'bout things I don't wanna to hear about.
Don't talk to me right now.

A wraith in a dress and a ghost to impress.
A beast in the sheets with a white handkerchief.
Don't speak to me about things I don't wanna to believe.
Don't ever speak to me again.

There's something to be said about a whole lotta nothin',
but I'm not about to say it.

I only ever make things worse.
"Who do you know who owns a hearse?"
I once rode to Denny's next to a coffin;
it was empty.

There's this guy at work
who worked at a funeral home before.
He went through a fast food drive-thru with a dead guy in the back.
He'd died from obesity.

I don't know what's worse:
Tragedy or comedies.
I'm always tearing up at the happy scenes,
and laughing inappropriately.
******* ******* irony -
gets me every time.

But if I soared into your fence I'd be electrocuted in an instant.
Nevermind the environmentalists several miles off in the distance.
They can't save me.
They've got their own sinister agendas.
In some way we can trace all the blame back to Brenda.
That *****.

Despite any number of smoke screens;
of lofty promises and unobtainable dreams,
we'll always have that one thing we believe in.

In the event of unknown nights
spent drowning ourselves beneath the weight of our plight,
we'll always be able to find our way back.

In case we crack and get lost in the creases,
we'll have each other to pick up the pieces,
and rebuild them better than the way they once were.

You and me,
carrying on the light.
We can make it together.

I'll never again fear inclement weather,
for I've found a port in the storm.
You give me the strength to row this boat,
and a hope to row it toward.

Climbing up trees because fences are barbed.
Smoking on rooftops.
Took the lightning rod as a souvenir.
Paint markers and spray cans.
Don't worry man,
this place has been abandoned for years.
Throwing all the chairs into the pool.
Teepeeing the neighbors.
Chasing each other with fire extinguishers -
we couldn't put out the flames.
Accidental arson on Carson street.
It took that guy weeks to paint over our names.
They're offering a reward in the newspaper.
How many people have you told?
Shooting out the lights in cul-de-sacs.
The dark makes criminals feel welcome.

We never once got coal for Christmas,
but after a certain age,
vandalism just feels ridiculous.

Seriously dude?
You're going to ignore me for doing something that I really want to do?
Haven't you ever felt passionately about anything,
or is that just too uncool for you?

What have you done?
What are you doing?
God forbid I try to find myself.
Hey, friend, thanks for the support, by the way.

If it's not cool enough for you, then get lost.
I'm better off without you,
so I don't care what you say.
The last thing I need is another reason to doubt myself,
so you can just go **** yourself.

I'm still going to do it, anyway.

I'll try to get this one out before I'm stumbling drunk;
a few lines I want to write about art:
It's a three letter word, as is "God."
I find it all in chaos.

How'd you get so dark, kid?
Where did that **** start, kid?
What's it like to walk that twisted line between hero and villain?
How'd you come to be so haunted?

A tiny figure lies at the bottom of a cardboard box.
It is surrounded by straw,
and curled up into a little ball.
Eyes closed.
It sleeps but not peacefully.
Twitching and shaking;
periodically jerking out of its fetal position
with a stiffening of its limbs and an arch of its back
as if in pain,
or ecstasy.

The four folded ***** that make up the roof of the box get pulled apart.
Blinding light pours in.
The figure stirs and squints its black eyes into vague and undefined distances that will soon fade away to nothing.
A deafening voice booms down from somewhere above the box:

"John, we were wondering if you'd consider coming in to the department today.
We know you've been under a lot of stress lately,
but it's just - I mean,
it's been three weeks already.
We could really use you.
We've been swamped."

Bogs and marshes.
That's all I see.
All I've ever known.
It's in everything I eat.
The source of all I drink.
It's all I'll ever be.
It's in my skin and bones:
Concentrated pools of misery.

I have daydreams of turning you down.
You come on too strong and I uncomfortably say,
"Uh, I should probably go now."
Then I leave and you cry, wishing I had stayed.
While on the road I feel pity, but know it's better off this way.
I'll laugh about it as I fall asleep,
then wake up to never think about you again.

Meanwhile you'll slip into a downward spin
full of drinking and drugs and self-destruction.
A series of abusive men will leave you lost in a haze.
Dumped by another boyfriend, you'll go through a lesbian phase.
And for your fall from grace, it'll be me who you blame.
You'll spend the rest of your days cursing my name.

It's just a reverie, I know.
Only romantics truly drown
and you are not a romantic!
I have fantasies of turning you down,
but in reality, it's the other way around.