Suspended, intoxicated,
Their faces spell out a word I can’t read
But I hear them, I hear them
And I let their ringing voices, their systematic joy
Lull me into another daydream.

They infect me, slowly,
Molten lava flowing to a standstill.

Have you ever seen hardened lava?
It’s dark, expansive, a plowed field ripe for sowing.
But it’s sharp, did you know?
It’s glass, obsidian razor blades that tear at your skin
Not only sharp, but silent, too-
You look down, and you’ve lost a finger.

You lose the point of your cheek
The slump of a shoulder.
Before you know it,
You lie there, disconnected pieces bloodied and pale,
In a field of expansive black.

I am shredded, pulverized
The words batter at me, hail and rain on a bowing windshield.
Between the crack of my lips
And the rats nest pressed to my faded walls
Is a numbed mass of slush
Protected by a barbed wire fence.

Sleeping Beauty’s castle in a wall of thorns-
But to keep out, or to keep in?
Protected, or jailed?
I slumber, curled and warm,
A feather to blow, a dandelion to destroy.

When the prince comes calling
When the clock strikes midnight
When they ask me to spin straw into gold
I swallow another pill.
I drift into another night of distraction, of
Reaching hands and wax lips that melt
A rainbow of crayons onto my lap-
Anything to avoid tomorrow,
Avoid the fists and knuckles of responsibilities
That press, suspended against my throbbing temples.

The shaft of moonlight stabs the
Soft skin between my *******.
I stare at the tips of my flesh
Imagine a babe suckling there.

You once told me you wished for children.
You once told me my hips and soft stomach foretold a healthy and long motherhood.
You once told me I already smelled of milk and sweet breath;
All I lacked was the baby powder.

You once told me.

You once told me the pink and purple of my *** was too mottled and unkempt.
You once told me the space between my eyes offset the masters degree I hung on my office's wall.

You once told me if I put as much time into my job as this family, I wouldn't be watching you shove your clothes into a worn and broken-toothed suitcase.

You used to lie there, between my *******,
The moisture of your breath evaporating off my skin and cooling my ******* to a point.
You'd laugh, press a kiss to each,
And tell me they must miss your tongue and teeth.

I scoot up the bed, sheets scratchy and sticking to my flushed skin.
The moonlight traces a path down my ribcage and navel,
A touchless touch that makes me ache for real fingers and real body heat.

I hear him, moving about the kitchen
Humming that Bob Seger song that tickled the back of my neck when I slid onto the back of his motorcycle,
Voices echoing in the half-empty parking lot.
I can see his hips swaying in the night sky
The slow ****** and long extended neck in the clouds.
I can smell his sweat and ***** on my body, the moist night breeze pushing him further into my lungs.

I press my face to the pillow
Inhale the detergent where you used to sweat pheromones, drool on, and bite when I kissed my way down between your thighs.

He starts to whistle, the *******.

He's tone deaf.

I press my lips flat, contain the laughter my body aches to set free.

You once told me that to be with a man was denying my true sexuality.
You once told me that if we were to marry, I'd never know a day without true joy.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
When he ****** you in our bed.
When he ate you on our sheets
Your *** on him his scent on you.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
To watch me fall apart.
To watch me scream and tear and bash my heart against the wall, the scent of your betrayal still hanging in the air between us.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
To deny your true sexuality.

I promised to love you forever.
I promised to care for you, in sickness and in health.
I promised to give you my all, and protect your heart with my life.
I promised.


He reaches the chorus one last time, and I feel my head begin to bounce
My toes tapping against the cool yellow paint of the wall.
The scent of bacon drifts beneath my door, overpowering his ***** and my sweat
And I roll out of bed, stomach grumbling.

I promised to love you forever, love.

When I **** him, I don't think of you.
When I **** him, he calls my name, not God's.
And when I **** him
I love it
And I don't miss your ***** for one ******* second.

Even his ******* bacon taste better than yours, you ****.

And when I tell him I love him, my lips against his naked shoulder,
My heart in my shaking hands,
He doesn't say that he's been ******* the mailman for the past three weeks.
And our married neighbor Kim.

He says "I love you, too."

And I believe him.

The world is a great whirling place.
The wind is always moving,
Jets streams, high and low pressure,
Hurricanes and tornadoes and sweet-smelling,
Gentle afternoon breezes accompanied by sweet iced tea and
A smooth, southern belle accent.

It’s all a reaction, a string of effects that affect another
Effect.
You sneeze, you end world hunger.
You cough, you **** a man in France with a
.22 that you stole from your mom.

The Butterfly Effect
An interesting movie, that one
Though the only scene I’ve ever seen
Was Ashton Kutcher waking up and somehow having
Spent the night with his boyhood crush as an adult
In her college dorm.
(Did I imagine that?
Who knows.)

Regardless: I’m curious
What each of my heartbeats does to the economy of Taiwan.
What the smell of my shampoo does to the eruption of a volcano in Hawaii.
What the cut of my dress does to the graying hair on an old man living
In a flat in central London.
Excuse me, I meant greying.

It’s also funny: what does one random smile from me
Do to a stranger for the rest of the day?
What does my stumble up the stairs
Do to a Spanish teacher as they come back from their lunch break?

If we’re all connected, then shouldn’t everything we do determine something else?
And isn’t everything we do determined by something else?
So was everything determined by one singular action at the very beginning?
Can there be an origin action without an action to originate that, and one to originate that, and-
Well, I’ve heard that’s God: he’s the hand that tipped the first domino,
The only thing in existence that defies all science and reason;
Whether that’s true or not is for a different day
With a different girl with a decent amount of sleep.

I miss you when it’s late at night and I’m tired or sleepy, and I want someone to cuddle, i want your arms wrapped around me and to crawl into bed and have your scent wrap around me and feel your warmth. I want to hug you to my chest and ask you to stay, don’t go. Stay.
I miss you whenever I see love and adoration. I miss you when I see their PDA or their laughter and I think of your smile and how even if I cause it, I can’t see it, because you’re there and I’m here. I see them smiling and laughing and holding each other and I’m sad, I’m jealous and sad and I wish you were here.
I wish that was us.
I miss you when I’m frustrated. When I’m angry and lost and near tears, when I hug my stuffed animal to my chest and wish it was you and that i could bury my face in your chest or neck and exist on a plane that is only us. Exist on a plane where when I open my arms you come, when you hold out your hand I can grab it.
I miss you when its raining, and I wish that we could watch it together. Cozy up and watch a movie, listen to the sky weep.
I miss you when I’m relaxing, when I’m sitting in my loud as hell chair and watching a show, and I want to tell you everything, complain about the protagonist and her obliviousness, rant about the misogynistic boss. I want to tell you my little thrills, lean over your shoulder and peek at your game or video, poke you with my cold toes, fall asleep on the couch to the sound of your little outrages and victories.
I miss you when I stare out at the night sky, and imagine a future where I can turn over in bed and see you there, asleep, and know that when I wake up, you won’t be gone, and this isn’t a dream.
I miss you when it’s cold outside, when I can see my breath, and I’m shivering, and you’re not here to tell me I should’ve dressed warmer, you're not here to pull the hat off your head and put it on mine, not here so I can protest and try to give it back, chase you down the sidewalk.
I miss you when I see a funny animal or a cool building or a small flower, and I have no one to turn to and say, look!, no one to share my small thrill. Maybe someday I can tell someone, I can tell a friend, but for now, I tell myself, and smile to only myself.
It hurts when you’re happy without me, it hurts when they get to see you and I don’t.
It would hurt so much more if you were struggling, if you were lonely like I.
I know you miss me. I know inside and I see outside that you miss me. My own insecurities only tell me lies, and sometimes they can be mean, and I have to stop and think how hurt I would feel if you thought that kind of thought of me. That is the evil of insecurities.

When I miss you, sometimes it’s fleeting. Sometimes I wish you were here, acknowledge you’re not, and continue my day. Sometimes I tell you I miss you. You always say it back. Sometimes I think and think on what could have been if I was closer to home, and I have some regrets, I do.
But I don’t think I want to be anywhere but here, if I had to choose.

They say long distance is hard. I think it is, and it isn’t.
It’s hard if you stop communicating, if you stop sharing little things.
It’s hard if you stop thinking of each other, exist only in your visible reality.
These are things neither of us do.

But it’s hard when I miss you, when I’m *****, when I long to touch you or listen to you laugh.
It’s hard when I feel the word clingy, when I want to be wanted, when I wish you would miss me and miss me, so that we feel the same. But I don’t want you to hurt, because when you hurt it hurts me. Is that selfish self interest? Perhaps. But it hurts to see or hear you hurt. It hurts to know you’re hurting, and I want to fix it, I want to solve. But I am here, and you are there, and it is your hurt to bear. I can’t take it away or presume to know how to fix it, if it can even be ‘fixed’.

I miss you. That’s really what I came here to say. I miss you.
I hope you miss me too.

empty head filled with
empty thoughts filled with
empty words filled with
empty sentiments.
I opened my stomach for you
but your promise ran out like blood.
if you extend your arms like that
an embrace for the sun
her treasures her grace
I will no longer believe that you believe
that I can love every piece
of this jagged maze of your heart.

The creak of a glacier, floating out to sea.
Cold metal on my palms, ice shards on my tongue
The shell of my breath cups my cheek.
Slowly, I climb
Inch by inch
Inch by solid, frozen inch
Until I heave myself over the edge
The top
The surface of the creaking, hulking mass that is your cold, frozen heart.
You told me once it was pointless
Don't get my wrong- I am cognizant of my own stupidity
But what can a person do?
A touch, a sigh, a warm body in the night-
My soul craves neverending
A cool stream for my parched throat
A soft bed for my aching feet
I long for you, desire your body and mind and soul and
The creaking, hulking, frozen mass of your heart.
You warned me, but now that I've scaled you,
I've reached your surface,
I can see the expanse of sea before me
The neverending, blemish-less blue.
Not a scrap of land, a bit of anything to cling to,
To stay and build a home.
I will float, now, on this endless, ocean
Traveling inch by inch toward sanctuary that will never appear.
You promised me nothing,
And I suppose you've delivered.
The problem is,
How do I crawl back down this mass
Pick my way down cliff-drop edges
Without plummeting and vanishing beneath the waves,
All alone in your endless, bitter ocean?

If I close my eyes
You exist.

I see you in the darkness,
Bursts of light and music and colors,
Oh wondrous reds and greens and yellows, stardust and fireworks raining on my face and outstretched arms.

Coat me, cling to me.
Love me from the outside in, until nothing exists for me but you, bright and soft and warm and gentle and-

Behind my closed eyelids.

I am always full and empty
This conundrum never solves itself
I think I feel but I'm never right
I'm half-right and half-not and half-unsure why I think so much
I tell you the truth but I don't believe it
But if I told you a lie then I'd be lying
I swore it to you, big and bold and dripped in red
But when you said it first I felt I couldn't not echo
What is truth if I don't offer it first
Am I a liar? Or just unsure
You swore it was real I remember that well
But when I look back I'm unsure if you wanted me or the idea.

If I swear to be better how is it better
Am I right or not, am I real or a fantasy of myself that I create
I morph her and wish for her and pretend that
Maybe someday she'll turn into me, I into her, and when we
Become one I will tell no lies, no half-lies or otherwise that
Mean I am wrong.

Maybe one day I can tell you how I feel
Maybe one day I can tell you the truth
Maybe one day I can stand up, stare you in the eyes, and tell you how much I hate your shadow
He slurs, he stumbles, he doesn't know his own strength
Maybe I can tell you how he makes me sick, makes me sob, makes me so angry I start to shake and the lump grows and grows in my throat until I scream and tear myself apart on the inside, always the inside
Maybe one day I can tell you about him, your shadow
And then maybe one day you will remember how I hate him so and have it make a difference
I don't care how sorry you are
I do, okay, although I wish not to
But it doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't matter how much you love me, love us, it doesn't matter how much you're grateful for how we put up with him, it doesn't matter if you've tried before
I'm so tired
I'm so tired of being here
Maybe one day,
Maybe I can tell you how much of me wanting to go is his fault, your awful shadow
Maybe if you knew how much I wanted to hate you, how much I wanted to make you hurt, you'd see
But I can't
I can't
I can't stay mad
I can't hurt you
I can't hurt you or your shadow.
Maybe one day I can say the truth, and maybe one day you'll listen.

Open your eyes
Sit up.
Can you feel the difference between your skin and the ***** floor below?
Maybe if you had fingers, I could tell you which is which-
I don't think you'd know the difference.

If you tell me you want to leave
I just might have to scream.
I've been stealing and stealing here
For us
For you
For me
Stealing and taking and collecting for us to see, for us to
Have and eat and drink and drink in until we're too full
Until we weep
I've begged you over and over to be happy
Why can't you stay happy?
Maybe if I told you more lies,
Maybe then you'd understand.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to steal in order to stay beautiful, stay empty and cold and
Just How You Like It
Maybe if you told me your name, I could finally believe that you love me.

He flickers
She trickles
Together they are soot and smoke
Dripping wax stuck to the table
Scrape it off and lick your fingers clean

A mouse hides under my skin
He nibbles my ribs
Chews through the mesh of my brain
I whisper back, coo at his squeaking
His bones crunch between my teeth

Lines shape and form
Colors melt and bubble
Scent is a taste
Touch is a sound
Sprinkle of salt and the ending dissolves

Butter that oozes
Corn syrup dribbles out her mouth
Milk pours from between her legs
And ketchup sprays from her *******

The scissors snap
A tether is cut
One being becomes two

An open faced sandwich before me
Tomatoes galore, juicy and
Ripe. Slathered mayonnaise,
My mouth waters as I dive in-
To my meal.

blue eyes and blue skies
your white pillow lips
your spider leg eyelashes
and the soft, brown bruises that
tiptoe up my wrist

soft downy, warm skin
a tiny entity in the pale moonlight
purple and yellow
wet and slime and rawness
but empty, flutterless, cooling:
the bare nakedness we created
no longer exists

dribbling words
a tipsy house that leans to one side
gentle breeze and creamy clouds-
mashed potatoes to slather with butter or
the fluid that drips down my leg

asphalt, cold but burning
a right a left
a straight
and i stumble
press a hand to the leftover lump of my abdomen
and turn toward an empty, flickering highway

Punched and lulled and soft
Swung, fat marcato
Something whispered, stolen
Each voice is a scent
Each color is a word
And the taste of ash permeates each touch

I smooth a hand over the ending
A coating of dust turns my skin gray
Fuzzy and soft, like downy or feathers
Or the soft lighting of a rainy day

I fluctuate, expand, reexamine and redesign
The scent was cold, now hot
And the only thing I remember
Is the orange essence that clung
To your fat, red tie.

I stole something today, something
small, clustered buzzing neon lights
bright and explosive pleasure cries,
the kind that sell for an hour
but remain bitter and chalky
when swallowed dry. I paid for it with

earl gray and soft sighs, melting
sunrises the colors of quiet,
maroon and hazel and sweet corners of dusk.
She cracked herself open, like an egg or a popsicklestick bird cage,
ended her reign of my kingdom and handed me
the dripping, palpitating mass of dreams
that once existed behind her shuttered curtains.

I pulled it to my sternum, steaming
red and grained muscle hot in my
shaking hand. She smiled, those
earl grays that soothed stabbed those
pillows that pressed smothered and those
apples that blossomed rotted beneath soured flesh. My head bowed,

my chin pressed to my chest so that I might’ve
gnawed through my backbone. I
opened my mouth and bit
into her heart, and chewed in time to the
echoing of her clicking heels.

The rhyme was easy
The meter was simple
All we needed was the title.

Whispered words in the night
Loops traced on restaurant napkins
A soft sound against my neck.

A burst of thought during lunch break
Scrolling through lines on a screen
Or the rasp of pages between dry fingers.

The title eluded us
A distant, provocative idea whose
Promise tasted sweeter than its journey,
But whose demand pulled at our stomachs
In an endless tug-of-war.

It was one a.m., he had garlic and
***** and toothpaste breath and I
Coughed and mumbled and
Shoved him away when he
Gasped and prodded my shoulder,
Excited feet making the bed shake.

Somewhere between my "*******"
And "goodnight, sweetheart" was the
Soft caress, the tickle on the back of my neck
That wormed its way into the
Corner of my brain
A white film that slowly seeped behind
My eyelids-
"Reginald"

Reginald
Reginald?
I sat up, I turned, I stared at him until
He opened one smoky eye and watched me
Watching him.

And then I laughed.
And laughed.

And that's why we named you Reginald.

A boy with sloping shoulders that lies beneath the summer moon
His hair in feathered clumps and skin a pale green
The sugared breeze whispers between green-toothed skeletons
Whose crooked bodies loom, shadows dancing over his bare feet
Melted blues spill into oil and speckled white
An open canvass above to freckle his face with dew and starlight
His appled cheeks plump and rosy, his wet brown cow eyes and
Dancing hummingbird beat throb an echo across the woods
A rhythm that races between your xiphisternum and back bone.

When his laughter dances across the nape of your neck
When his breath coats your arms and tickles your brow
When his summer song flutters in and out of your hearing
Too soft and swift for your tree-root heart,
Then you must open your eyes and arms and embrace the heavens
Open your mouth and drink in the night air
In the hope his fleeting mirth might float by and trickle down your throat, might dust your heart in gold and green.

Ironic.

His head split open like an egg
No, a watermelon, I guess,
With all the red and
Seeds and the goop of a pumpkin
Or a cantaloupe.
Yeah, split open like a big
Fat
Fruit, swollen and attracting flies in the
Summer heat.
Putrid, rotting,
His head was a big
Round
Fruit, and I never saw those eyes
Ever again.

I entered the room as I exited:
A word, a dash, a smashed language
Spit and slushy words, curled and garbled
A soft, a sigh, a wisp of perfume
Teases, ignites
A glance toward the door, a leg, creamy skin
A dress, a glass slipper, a carriage?
No matter; I exist, eternal
My scent my skin my voice
You swallow, ****, savor
Consume what should not be
Until I leave you,
Quivering
In a puddle upon the floor.

Momentless
If the blur of colors never stops how do I tell where the rainbow ends and the rain begins
If you pull hard enough maybe the stuffing will come out, if you tear strong enough maybe I will split open and pour out onto the pavement
Stretching, always stretching
Time is a melted clock, puddles puddles on the floor at your mangled feet, I broke them, I crushed them in my haste to leave
You say forever is false and that the ending will one day come
But how can I trust you to be present-ever when you plan for death
When you tell me the apocalypse is near and you are leaving without me, no, that I will leave you to love another, leave you and never return
How do I trust the middle when you denied the beginning
How do I trust the middle when you swim to the cliff, see the depth of the water, and tell me we'll drown.

Slashes and cuts and bruises
You tell me I’m fine and I believe you
I press bandages to my skin and pretend.
Always pretending, always acting
Always saying I’m fine.

It began with a nudge, a slip,
A gentle flick to the ear.
"Dummy"

A tongue, a voice, a honeyed sound that
Slipped into my dreams and cradled my skull-
Until you dropped me suddenly, disappointed when I
Didn’t do as told.
"Ungrateful."

They came often then, thorns and glass in the corners of
My body, so that each time I moved I could not help but
Press them deeper into my skin.
"Lazy."
"Slow."
"Stupid."

The first punch was quick, almost painless
So that I lay in bed and ran my tongue over it,
A rotted tooth that spoiled and
Dripped sour down my throat.
"*****."

The first kick was sharp and jabbed
To the ribs, between the bones with steel-toed boots.
"******* ****."

The first cut was different
It stole blood, so that you put it to your mouth and tasted
Savored the iron and salt I made for you.
"*****."

When your fingers finally curled around my throat,
Something occurred to me.
Did it matter if I was so bruised and battered on the inside
If all anyone ever saw was the outside?
"Better off dead."
Did it matter if I bled or oozed or dripped with hurt
and hungered for love, if no one saw?
You didn’t like what you saw, you never did,
And you were the only one who saw the scars and
mutilated heart. So as long as no one saw,
No one would know. No one would ever know.
Not when my fear wasn’t enough
Not when my pain wasn’t enough
Not when everything I had to give and more wasn’t enough.
As long as no one knew how pathetic I was,
How ugly and scarred and utterly disgusting I was on the inside,
Then it didn’t matter.

Behind her green sunglasses were two gray eyes
And behind her two gray eyes was her gray lumpy brain
In inside her gray lumpy brain were 86 billion neurons
And fired between those 86 billion neurons was one echoing electrical signal thought:

The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

i wade through each day like slush;
gray, cold, frostbitten toes
they run toy trains up and down my spine
lick salt off my cheeks and press
fingers to my forehead.
they tell me i'm sweet, soft spoken
a kind soul, a saint
i let their words roll off my crimson lips
cloying honey, deep golden hue.
sometimes the hours are lonely
lost in space and dimension with but a key
to a door that only opens down
so that i fall in an endless rabbit hole.
a ticking clock, a shrinking potion
i masticate tea cake crumbs until i gag.
eat me, drink me,
dispose of this monotonous body
this rotting cage for a shredded soul.
i tell them my number and rank
i tell them my number and rank
i tell them, and they shove a satin ribbon down my throat
tip an oil can to my crimson lips
and tell me it was all a dream.

The color of her flesh was purple

She roiled like smoke;
She spoke like slumber

When I answered her call
I swallowed too fast
And lost my tongue

Sodium chloride
Water vapor
Endorphins and electrical signals
You light me up like a Christmas tree
But when I look into your eyes
I see vineyards and crayons and
Soft, tinged bruises

The last time I saw her
She was eating his face

The last time I saw her
The sky was cold and your lips were red

The last time I saw her
She looked like fog;
Purple fog
Purple nail polish
Purple eyes

I dragged my fingers up her thighs
And she pressed her mouth to my cheek
And nipped me goodbye.

You told me you loved me but I broke anyway
You told me you loved me but the middle fell out and I splintered on the rocks below
You told me you loved me but it's so hard to believe when you say nothing and I have nothing to trust but the voices in my head telling me that you're disappointed, that I annoy you, that you miss her, that I am not what you want.
How do I trust you when I am always ******* up. How do I trust you when I always push you away, or you push yourself off the cliff and don't look back as you fall fall, fall down and leave me behind, alone and cold and empty as always. Empty but full of empty thoughts, empty drawers of you and you and more and you, empty as you fall
How do I trust you when I can't trust myself to make you love me?
How do I trust you when I can't tell if you love me or my warmth, my voice or the comfort my words used to bring, my laugh or its validation, my body or the space it takes up next to you. Sometimes when the sky falls and your eyes turn from brown to black and I wish I could see your face and hear your rhythmic breathing, I miss your body and your scent and your voice, and I remember that you don't miss me.

He thought a bone shattered
A rib, perhaps
Something in his chest, at least.
It shattered, or just cleaved right down the middle.

She was abrupt, rude, almost
Straight and to the point.
If her words were a symphony,
She’d be staccato, short and sharp and
Leaving you wondering if there was a point to that repetitive noise.

He was a chorale, smooth and savory and lagato
A long soothing soak in the tub
A gentle wash of waves over the sand.
His words were rounded stones
His tongue felt-lined and soft.
When he spoke, his notes serenaded you
And you found yourself leaning forward to catch each
Harmonious line and shifting melody.

Together, she clanked, cursed
Destroyed anything pleasant around.
She crushed him, overpowered him
Distasteful dissonance and an F sharp where the
Key signature clearly called for F natural.

Either way, she broke him with one clipped,
Short confession
As sentimental as her usual tune
Despite its overarching message.
She loved him?
Inconceivable.
Things like her didn’t love
They clanked along, out of tune,
Tone deaf, a child banging on a piano
Violently punching and spasming over the keys.

She broke him, in half
A crack down the middle that slowly scritched and scratched its way
Until he was only connected by lungs and a heart in the very middle.

Love?
No.
She did not love him.
She could never love him.

You’re a soft color, almost a sound or a smell, instead
When you smile, something breaks in my chest
A rib, I think. A scapula, a clavicle, perhaps my manubrium.
Tiny earthquakes, in my veins and tendons,
When you press your skin to mine.
Hold my hand, poke my side, lay a wrist on my forehead-
It’s an earthquake with an epicenter,
Expanding waves of zipping electrons and firing nerves
Somewhere between fiery ant invasion and electrocution-
That is your touch. Zaps and sparks that hurt,
Nips and bites that sting long after sustained
The worst part is when you realize, when you give me that
Slow, half-apologetic, half-self-deprecating, half-pleased lip twitch-
And then you smile, and you eyes crinkle and sparkle and I
Forget why I never told you that I love you.