My room is filled with deep velvety black
So many different shades
Melting into one
I can just barely distinguish the windows
I want it to swallow me whole
I struggle to try and decipher emotions
That I don't know what they are
They shift and swirl
All out of reach
Emotional reach
I want to be uncomplicated
And free
I tell you, run.

Alcohol's the devil
and he's my only friend.

****** a self bone love
where only crystal skulls *****
in morphine harbors of youth.

Penetrate the gentle pink dawn
of dead days hanging -
moon rising red mouth, half-open.

Savor the metallic ******* ragtime
of cold handsome lips.

Razz the fluid glutted
plop of fossil *****.

Slip the light, hot licks, squid squirm
tight snarl back to spread-eagle rising.

Gnaw at the fresh goose-pimpled flesh
in tribes of sweat crossing.

See the green railwayed eyes,
half-smile sprouting.

Urge spasms to go slack, end-to-end
like hair bellies over, shudders run-
down one foot flutters, fluid waves drop.

Flash on the swamp cypress relief
as the **** sputters out
and faded pink curtains heave.

Allow the bring down roll.
The two planes, silent park
like some ***** bed repose.

She always held herself with the dignity of having a thousand masterpieces hanging from her lips but She never let me stand close enough to hear them
She was good at speaking from a safe distance like that

And as I stood with my toes curled over the edge of loving, she peered down the cliff and asked me if the fall was worth the raging waters
She tried to teach me the difference between love affair and romance, unzipping each word telling me  how some lies are still worth believing, when the truth is still to bitter to swallow whole.

She told me how the windchill can steal all the warmth right out of you, how it even leaves your mouth shivering and empty

I have written enough about it now to know you can see it in someones hands
I have written enough about it now to know you can taste it on someones words
And we stood there on that cliff until the whisper of dusk finally left our lips and my fingers began to turn blue

On the nights I woke up empty, she told me that the darkness swallows up light without even asking its name so don't you dare expect a roll call now. There is no welcome mat outside of 3am but we laid outside the door anyways and she let the sky paint me pictures

On the nights I woke up cold, she reminded me that hands are only as good as what you choose to hold on to, she always said there was some kind of art into weaving your hands into somebody else's. It was the one thing we agreed on.

She said I had a shimmer she couldnt trust just yet but on the night I couldn't read poetry she let me sit next her, she told me that the thing about people and metaphors is that we all need at little editing
and we could all use a little bit more work.

She is so . . . boring
She sits and stares and reads and eats
She likes simple things
She calls herself a hermit --
To bury the truth of friendless, perhaps?
Empty in her eyes, small lips, pale face
A harmless thing never bothered me so much

She is so . . . empty
She lives through another, who has no life either
Two empty lives do not equal one full
She has no friends, though she counts me as such
Her fairytale is almost through
She wasted the years of finding something
And ended with nothing

She is so . . . loud
And bright, unlike me
Her words make you cringe but she cares
She takes me away from comfort
To a place I've always wanted to be
She's easy to charm, so easy to annoy
It depends on the day

I am so . . . lost
I am waiting for life
This is not where it ends, I know
The beginning is soon --
Almost there, I think
At least I learned to love
I am going to the other side, stay here and watch