I promised I'd tell
no one about our
little secret. I keep
my hands clasped firmly
on my lap and breathe
in the air like it's
my last day on earth.
We signed a blood pact.
It was ten years ago this day.
My hair is much longer
than it was when you first met me.
And your legs are much
thicker than they were when you
bought me Usher's first album.
I still sing along to it;
do my best to dance like
he does in the music videos.
It used to hurt me, keeping
this secret you forced
me to keep. Said if I told
anyone I would go back to that
dark place; where claws
are attached to moving shadows;
they'll pull me in, you whispered
as you sat on top of me, and never
let me go. I trembled under your
weight. But held you tighter
that Sunday night.

the evening rolls
off my tongue like
a spanish R,

a click, hop,
and a jump
away, my mouth

makes a noise

in the midst of all
this silence

'you're right'

is not something i want
to hear, and it's feels
like hell holding it back

the spine crinkles

like an ******* of potato
chips that we kept
between the cushions
of the living room couch
for the entire winter

remember that day
when i promised i'd go
swing dancing with you?

i said my legs were tired
after my jog around the school
by our apartment, i ran

10 laps straight, remember that?

i lied,

i sat behind a tree
and cried

my eyes squeezed dried,
into a ****** pulp
and fried

my allergies, dear
they're acting up again
can we go next year?

you took it, like you
take everything, buried
it six feet deep,
next to the resentments
and regrets

labeled it,

under rather not
bother

you were right
all them years

said i'd limp my way
to your heart, and drag
it along the bowls
of an unnamed river

can't we just
burn our losses like
stars and start over
again?

find each other
in the tangled webs
our ancestor's
blindly wept?

suddenly, doesn't
feel so sudden
when you're loved one
is no longer ladened

she's free of the
significant other
burden

and i remain
a distant memory

the false beginning

of my own sincere
history,

this cocooned heart
of mine, so free, free

free of the precious
metal container

called misery

i thought we could do this
but i was wrong
at the edge of my seat
in nothing but a thong

i rubbed my *******
hard till they broke off
and fell

i rested my feet
on the desk, then
my *** went to sleep

all these numbers
in front of the camera

for your donations;
for money to spend
unwisely

who said
intelligence
couldn't co-opt
beauty?

for the sake of
the lord's embrace

my body relies
on the path
it chooses but
in the end
doesn't take

so here i remain
yours, on my knees
wet;

your torch
sets me ablaze

and i was wrong
at the start, the middle,

the last few drops
of tears offering no
solace

wake up
it's time for work
the arms are extended
labor calls, they tilt
like the antlers of a deer
an object,
no a thousand
pounds of nothing
awaits their arrival

as though they've been
waiting it out;

waiting for something
important to uproot
them from their dull,
but peaceful existence

it'll click
you'll wonder
it'll click
you'll wander
it'll click

you were there..

and it was a bright,
vivid place

it clicks

and you're gone

My wife hates it when I leave my clothes around the house.
she hates it when I hold a sneeze for too long,
she thinks I do it on purpose; she may be right
because I believe i was a full time birthday party clown
in my past life.

My wife complains to me about
how I spend more effort than I should scratching an
itch on my thigh; she scrutinizes me when I dig
under my nails and pleads for me to just clip them.

When she's not home her voice still remains; it rocks
back and forth like a lifeboat without any
tools for salvation.

I could never love anyone else. perhaps I'm all
dried up; much like the plums we keep in the icebox.

Forgive me,
I don't mean to be so honest.

It's just that i don't have anyone else to talk to at the moment.

i was fifteen when it happened
i laid there waiting for it to end
my body was like an acorn
waiting for the squirrel to steal
it away, only to bury it deep
underground where no one
could find me;
i was numb, but do you
know that feeling
when your shoelace gets
stuck around the peddle
bar and it's been spun around
so far already that it's too late
to stop? it felt like that
but much worse

i kissed the asphalt before
my lips ever touched
another pair of human lips

i only know what shards
taste like

don't feel sorry for me
though; it's the nature of
things

you get used to the sharp
edges, and that's all you
long for

i was twelve when i died
but i no longer mourn