Maybe my drive isn't there,
I need this to drive my drives in this
Non self driving car to some place or to sometime
Where my mind isn't trying to jump start
Every time my heart wishes
To depart from this gas station called Her

******* it who decided to call this Her
Do you hear Her?
The lights are buzzing like a mind
With a Thousand Ideas and nothing to say
Say like I am sorry,
Say It's just not the same.

Say, don't you remember that I need to fill up here,
Im Poring this Creation from the creators hands called my emotions
Watch me as I melt like a carton of crayons,

Melting so quietly,
Calling it the most beautiful of mess I have ever made
As we drive down to the darkest of days.

I’ve forgotten
to be anything but
space—so enraptured
with the black that
the forest was
less than a goose pimple
on earth’s flesh.

I have ignored the
eighth notes
hanging from the pines.

I have forgotten
the snowbirds and whipped
winds.

I have numbed the needles
pocking skin through
my jeans.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

now
the light of frozen
flies dims
in your mouth.

now
love washes out
in seasons.

now I eat
sugar-frosted buckthorn.

And I see you
ready to touch
through one
hundred leaves
and foliage.

dragonflies melt
into each other.
flowers meld
shaded silver
upon silver.
string whips of
cotton float by like jacks
thrown by children,
unsusceptible to
the force of gravity.

the mechanics of
heart machines
crank awake.

steel knees bend dull and
swollen.

venetian mask with
sterling tongue
skims the tops
of tiny toes
and errantly spring-ed
grasshoppers..

warm bodies
in bubbling steel
meadow—
cool in nature,
stolen like
gold
crafted and
crafted again
in heat.

your hair appears darker
when wet.
black, corded,
thick as puzzlegrass.
a companion in contrast
to frosted
cupcake blue eyes and
incense burning
in the ashtray.

memories thrown
in the laundry pile
with the wet towel
swirling upon
your head.
your smile
bitter as asparagus,
staining my *****
for the next two days.
your frame
soft and slender
as balsa wood.

I’d eat your air
freshly oxygenated
and bend you into
an arc.
the waves would split
on your bow
and shower my face
wet
dark
corded
thick as puzzlegrass.
then
from your finger
the standard of a
dove leaving
olive branch in
mouth
into the frosted
cupcake blue
sky.

a miracle in
the eye of the
waning storm.

I am common.
seemingly feminine
but shoulders strong
as barbed-wire.
like a chicken I am  
underdeveloped—my wings
weak and unable to
lift me into the air.
I am preoccupied
in self-identified war
with the 875 square foot
apartment and the pasta
that refuses to boil.
on my knees, I
crawl
reconciling rhyme
and reason for
suffering.
the world has gone awry,
I say to myself on an
afternoon bike ride
through wooded
pain, my face
a perfect plane for
scathing branches.
quick and easy blood
am I.
wretched and astonishing
is the rhetoric I
find in the hollow of
my rib.
I am common
but not so when
written by hand.

the morning sky
performs a hot dance of rain.
ever-growing lime washes away,
white and sour mistaken
by some noses as
aromatics.
a season
of ever-ending frost
absent from windows
and misty
misty
journey
through the rain
without an umbrella.

rain jilts
its luscious sun-lover
behind clouds.
it beheads drops into
the thin morning air
only to be crushed
by the sidewalk.

this excites the worms
who unearth themselves
like fishing-bait zombies.
the worms are then eaten
by the birds who brave
the rain and the slick
sidewalk, once baptized,
now eats their ****.

I step in a puddle
with my rain boots.
there are holes in their
heels, and I feel
my skin start to crinkle.
I think of you
for the first time in sky water
unsubmerged
docked
landed
and lean in
to the liquid veil.

i keep coming back to the hospital
the red beam on my skin
cold hands, everywhere is clean
and i am not sick. not anymore
not ever again

a white ray of light is carrying me
the road leads an empty flesh
the road swallows whatever's inside
i've become hollow even before- and now
i creak open
trying to stuff myself with what doesn't belong

this is a house. this, a hospital
i didn't pay my rent, so i came from the back
i keep coming back to the hospital
my feet, my head, my soul
only the heartbeat is steady. like the earth

that is the sun. that, what shouldn't burn

nurture me, nurses. smile at me like ever
gently feel the fabric of my clothes, doctor
tell me to eat. tell me to rest
tell me to do everything i shouldn't do

isn't that so naughty? to eat? to rest?
i wonder
i keep
i keep wanting to

this, a forever. this is the hallway