All I seem to do anymore is
cry
      and sleep
                     and cry
                                  and think.
The thinking is horrible.

Worse than any salty tear
burning the cuts you left on my cheek
from your razor blade lips.
                                     ◇
All I seem to do anymore is
pass out
            and dream
                               and pass out
                                                    and scream.
The screaming is horrible.

Not because my vocal chords are straining to keep up with my upsurge of emotion
But because it sends a shudder through me  every time the illegible shouts start to sound like your name

i have racked my mind
trying to figure this whole thing out
the staying, the going
the threads we claim hold us here
& the people who've stopped to play a tune on them
i sometimes relate it
to waking up in waist deep snow
in our former selves
the us we wish we could give one another
the children we've sat on the shelves
trapped, like the looks
we leave behind in snow globes
i sometimes imagine ships
dragging the bottom to the sea of "me"
for sleep & pieces of my old self
to sell to the new one
like history doesn't repeat itself
it gets me wondering
if you too want an apology from the rain
or if you dream of burning family photo albums
and wearing the ashes like perfume
if you're anything like me
how i hope god chokes
on memories of me blowing out candles as a child
i know i shouldn't reference my reader  
but don't you know, the only difference
between alone & lonely is you?
that if my hands could talk
the only thing they'd be able to say
is "dear god we've missed you"
and how can you tell me it isn't love
when even the rain refuses to fall
in places where i've kissed you
i remember the day
you found my smile at a yard sale
it reminds me of how you'll leave
i wonder if when you go
you'll tell yourself
the person in the rear view mirror
is closer than they appear

while september cicadas
were singing my neighbors to sleep
i was up walking holes in my shoes
over love once lost
so many poems ago
that the only thing i remember
about the house at 38th & bluestone
is that it reeked of alcohol and is
as i'm sure of it
still saturated in perfume
and abandoned laughter
but that's not the point
give me a minute
what i'm trying to say
is i always thought god
enjoyed watching things leave me
it makes me wonder
what was on his mind
that night in september
when i stooped to cough
or tie my shoelaces
i no longer remember why
but i recall their trajectory
the way gravity cradled my hands
and brought them crashing back to earth like a 747
they landed inches away
from a scrap of crumpled loose leaf
folded in half like the smiles
of my relatives on a holiday truce
you see, lately i've been looking for scars in the newspaper
i find myself checking the obituary
for my former selves since the day i found your suicide letter
maybe that's why i can never explain my obsession with history
maybe archeology is just a funeral
in reverse
maybe hell is just rewinding home movies
or watching confetti
turn back into photographs
i never told anyone
the reason the doors to the gun cabinet in my family's house are locked not because they are afraid
i will take my life
but because sometimes
i sing them birthday songs
on the day you died
it makes me think
of how rooms only echo
when they are empty

*you know
i never echoed until you died

Stretch marks.
  Cellulite.
    Scales.

Want.
  Pretty  

Reflection,
  Is that really me?

Knife.
  Shredder.
    Fats be gone.
      For the better.

Please?

There are times, when you want to cut-off from the world.
And there are times, when no one's around you to hold.

There are times, when you've a lot to say but words fall short.
And there are times, when you've nothing at all but you still have to talk.

There are times, when you're strong enough but too scared to fight.
And there are times, when you're weak but you do what's right.

There are times, when you feel like crying but tears don't fall off your eyes,
And there are times, when you're happy but can't laugh as a friend next to you cries.

There are times, when you don't want to reveal the secrets buried in your heart,
And there are times, when you want to share but nobody's close enough to be a part.

All I want to say is, I could have lived through all those times,
If you had just said, "I'm with you sweetheart, so everything's gonna be fine".