how do I fall in love with pieces of myself
that died many years ago?
emptiness hangs in my mouth
like some fickle aftertaste.
and deep down, my thoughts are like
frightened fish.  
i cut the world out of a magazine and
held it in my hands. . . how easy it seemed;
to crush it.  to crumple it.
turn it into heartache origami.
i suppose i'm possessed;
a mourning era––a morning light,
a bowl full of teeth.
i have laid myself to rest so many times that it seems i celebrate my funeral more often than my birthday.

i.
aloe vera aftertaste;
as honey drips from the faucet.
let's leave this pile of bones
under the duvet.

ii.
been a long time
since venus asked me to write.
the butterflies murmurs beneath skin;
beneath this milky way.

iii.
**** softly;
let all nightmares bubble over––
––and over––and boil––
as your innocence walks out the front door.

iv.
blow your nose,
sign your death certificate.
tell your mother,
that it never was her fault.

v.
i leaned on the sink,
& took a long long look at the mundane.
i rinse my hands; the depression doesn't wash off,
––and the honey turns sour in the drain.

1.)  you must hang up the world in the closet and heal.
2.)  submerge yourself in the mirror; make peace with what you see.
3.)  baptize yourself in the bathtub; watch the sins go down the drain.
4.)  make an offering to your body; for you are a temple.  you house a goddess within; and at all costs you must subdue her suffering.  
5.)  banish certain shadows from your body; today no one should follow you.
6.)  sow your dreams into the houseplants' pots; water them in softness; grow with them.
7.)  drink tea.  pray.  worship gentle things.  breathe; without the invasion of thought.
8.)  recycle your soul.  reincarnate into something other than yourself; become more than what you originally had in mind.
9.)  call your mother; or your father, or whoever ground you most.  remind them you love them.  allow certain heartbeats to re-align you.
10.)  and above all; forgive always.

dead man's requiem,
how does god weep when he's laughing?
shadow puppet queen;
it hurts, doesn't it?
the grip of life loosening
rapidly, rapid fire...
welcome to the bullet feast.
Go outside and play with time now;
chess with the past,
checkers with the present,
poker with the future.
howl at the sun for a change;
smoke on some of that science if you think it'll save you––
eat names for breakfast.
break every mirror
that pities you,
water your houseplants
with holy water.
drink tea sap.
107.1°
Fever wolf.

the sun squatted just over the horizon,
a giantess,
a red bulb;
the pregnant flower––
enabling all flesh;
flora and fauna
alike.

the moon sank her fangs into the sky,
merely a anorexic sliver of a crown,
a knife, against newborn night;
a ballet dance,
eating her own heart out
as the monsters devour
her leftovers.