pulsating and deep

dripping sweat,

and nothing but heat.

hips pointed high,

and eyes to the sky.

In a rocking motion,

thigh against thigh.

while you just lay there,

with your eyes open wide

... never knowing,

you're tearing from inside.



Until you're moving,

moving all about.

And you're bleeding,

so you shout!



And friends come running,

while the boy once full of motion -

just continues lying there.

With no concern at all,

except for himself,

and his hair.



Soon the hours start to pass,

the catheters, the doctors, the glass.

The blood flows, but the heart just stops.

Maybe from the morphine drip,

maybe from the tear,

maybe from the Mother,

whose now standing there.



The one who will stroke your filthy palm,

the one who you'll tell:

you raised a little girl, ma,

who can't choose men real well.



But if luck still exsists,

she'll hold you without a care.

And she'll help to mend the tear

that left you lying there.



Eventually you'll drift to sleep,

maybe out of weakness,

maybe after a good weep.

The suture will come out,

and the blood will cease.

But you, sweet darling,

will awake nowhere near peace.



Know you can clean up the mess, girl,

and you can hide that scar.

But the truth is, it's there,

wherever you are.



And he's not alone.

There's plenty of him.

But maybe next time sweet girl,

you won't just seek a lover,

but a friend.

You are the dab of butter melting

in my morning grits. The incessant flicker

from the candles glowing in my room.

You’re in that glass, the golden dancer

of bubbles tingling my nose and mouth.


As I approach that stop sign,

you’ll be that blinding bus,

at each street corner,

stealing my time even years after graduation.


Remembering as I do, you.

The highlighter that lit up my life.

So bold, and so brilliant.

Forget the other paragraphs,

yours were the only words that mattered.



It wasn’t until early on a Tuesday

the daily shift to morning from night.

Allowing a bright sun to greet us

as the moon planned its escape.



There you were, a stranger in my bed

Like a yolk surprise, cracked before my eyes,

I finally saw your true colors

I was raised on grain alcohol
and prayer & if that's
not a powerful combination,  
I don't know what is.
I blow up volcanoes daily,

So, you really shouldn't
of come as a surprise.

I realize I can't play
cards, or board games well.
But I'm the best liar
you ever saw. I also
know well enough to know
these words are inert-
they don't mean a thing.

Like this hand on my
thigh, what's the use?
But the hand like,
the eye, has it's purpose.
So, who am I
to interrupt it's job?

A mouths job, on the
other hand, is never done.
From the wine it sips,
to the licking of lips.
It's the only anchor
keeping me from your seas.

But alas, I have retired
my spectacles. My bleak eyes
have grown old. So, I
keep them closed these days,
pretending it's you I hold.

For blind, or for worse...
the better to dream
you of my dear.

My Doctors running tests to make sure I'm not hollow.

He says the sound I make as the stethoscope hits

my bare skin, is as empty as a bottle of whiskey at 5 A.M.

But I say, **** a Mr. White Coat. And **** Lauren.

I would give body parts to have a guy remind

this shell of me that I'm beautiful. My kidney?

Oh, both of them? Here, baby, consider them yours-

Just remind this human fist wrapped in blood

to continue beating. It's been rather hard to find a pulse.

You make this chest throb like a bruise given to me
in third grade. A pulsing dancer keeping perfect time
and rhythm in  my soul. Dip me in sugar,
how I'd love to be your spoon. I can
mix it all together, & help it all make sense.

keep your bare feet
on the dash
and our movie will never end