Insipid ingurgitating
it never hurt
I needed that it was never pain worthy memories

mine are
Cheap
like a gew-gaw,
Shiny and strong like a dark horse
lathered in the sun
Shallow as a caliche grave

you are fearless when it's nighttime
dragging the corpse of my voice
by the knot in that bag of bones
You've been throwing around
like dice
That never play fairly

Always with a sharp tongue
a new plan and borrowed bad words
You'll find all that back for you awaiting the threshing
While here you reap

I have that
The narrows have been sounded
The depth plumbed
and only by the skin of my teeth
Did I slip from that
shallow grounding.

No!
Coddle me,
Laissez-faire
Installment plan living,
while leaking vitality
my unused limbs
become no longer
tools
of expression
but of badly pretended
emotion


Madame caterpillar,
Your butterfly brilliance
is now
patina still life,
Sepia celluloid memory clips
from some
Dark cutting room floor
of your own imaginings.

wicked worded one,
Leave my voice untouched
by the wind from your acid lungs
Return to your wilderness
Refuge is yours only there.

like the devil in our memory
on dust and solar winds of misfortune's dreams
on the waves of no tide yet seen
heavier than the lead in your brain and bloodstream
slowly leaching all goodness from you as you grow old

spinning and weaving
into
selfishness and crushing apathy
with narrowing ill intent
from all to us to we to me to ? it went
it spreads us all slowly getting cold

wrecking all creation
from single cell
to great libraries
from empathy to eternal death
alone
in the cold
bury yourself
here comes death
and no one
to blame


no light
nothing matters

nature's cold last words
are muffled
by her quiet chuckle
knowing there is only more isolation
we are all quite alone and drifting
away from
each other

you smell like burnt toast and *****.
i just woke up in the church from your dream.
****, what a shame, not much left of me.

i remember you texting me from another's bed while he was sleeping.
She's funny, I thought.
I don't want to be him
if I were me.

sleeping next to lies;
not my thing, you see?

it's a long dark night,
but lack of loyalty
is longer.
it reeks of *****...
burnt toast...
boundless insecurity

master of your own inequities
den within den within den of
furthest need

be gone