breaking ice in my mineral water
lime spritzing the air and
dripping down my fingertips
as i twist it and sip its tang
hot sunlight radiating on my
body until the sweat glistens
at even the slightest movement
the rustle of well-worn pages
his sharp Adam's apple
rolls ever so slightly with a swallow
of the sparkling glass
the bubbles, like tiny diamonds
the hiss of the sprinkler next door
and the squealing chortles
of the neighbor kids running in it
chocolate melting on my tongue
chair squeaking when I recline

Happy is as happy does, but
I'm thankful happy's mine.

writing with a broken pencil
how pointless
when the only connection I had on Valentine's
was wi-fi
and don't the vultures in this airport know
only one carrion allowed?
and no fresh fruit - so no pairs.

it's terrible, I know
but puns are my coping device
and you [every bloke in my youth] should never have tried to juggle
when you had no *****
but you left
so I'm all right now

and I amused myself
with silly strings of homophony
until I found someone
whose puns are even worse
than me

because you can't take a joke
that doesn't belong to you

it's all mind.

dagger stilettos sever
the head off a clove cigarette
fallen from blushing plump lips
in a sharp, slightly stubbled face

so you hate him
because that's what we, humans,
do

golden ankles shine
from under a cloud of black
a flash of lightning blue in her gaze
intensity that frightens you

so you hate her
because that's what we, humans,
do

we spout that God is love
God is good
and perfect
and outside of time
not human

yet somehow
the Creator of countless suns
and sons
who shaped them in the womb
hates what he made

my bloodied, beautiful God
who made water into sweet red wine
who let ****** rub oil on his head
who creates, forgives, loves
does not despise anyone

humans do that

how convenient
to somehow believe it true that
God hates the same people
as you

I'm told foie gras will change my life.
That it's savory, exemplary
to die for.

Ironic.
Someone already did that.
A gavage in his throat...
plumped, fed,
suffocated by
his own fat
like an inflating noose
on an unwitting neck.

Ironic also that
his flesh inflates my girth
and feeds my gluttony.

"Stupid things...
don't even know they're dying."
Dying indeed.
A slow and painful death.
And how deserving of it, yes.
Stupid things.
Too stupid to recognize their plight.
After all, don't the stupid
deserve their fate?

Ironic how - to this day -
we still think we're so much
more evolved than
our forebears.

Evolution aside,
The Divine Rights of the Food Chain
still stand.

I do not understand it,
therefore it is less intelligent than I,
therefore I have the right to torture it.

I made it,
therefore it cannot live without me,
therefore I have the right to ruin it.

I own it,
therefore it is mine,
therefore I have the right to **** it.

Our strength grants us Divine Right, indeed.
May the kingdom prosper under our boots and be grateful, for
history has proven us such gracious and kind masters, after all.

Are we not?

SPRING
Like a bull, she charged the dandelion hill
Her child-sister a pack on her back, until
The braves swarmed from the wooded rill
She shouted to her comrades to lie still
Among the sweet grass and the dewy chill
Wild girl

SUMMER
She clutched the bark skin of Hawthorne trees
Skidding down, then pressing in her knees
Mop of chestnut hair blowing in the breeze
Which smell'd of hot soil and sweet peas
The sun above as close as she could please
Wild girl

AUTUMN
Page after page, her blackish eyes devoured
Tales of elves and warriors, from her tower
Where real-life through the faery-glass did sour
In presence of such phantasmal power
Of all the leather-bound leaves they flowered
Wild girl

WINTER
So it was, she crafted bricks of blue and red
Into cathedrals and creatures concocted in her head
Riled dragons to hear the tales they said
Climbed mountains others would not dare to tread
And did it all before momma called her to bed
Wild girl

I lost my marbles*
he cried, lingering
at the garden gate
hands in his pockets - what
a terrible thing to lose. I miss
him desperately from ten feet away. I wish
I could pluck star after star
and crush each between my fingertips
like a grape, dripping starlight
for him to lick
and shine behind his glazing eyes
and press the skins
into gems
for him to flick
with nimble wrist
like he did in our childhood
by the garden gate, where
we first met.

Imagine your mind
as a corkscrew
shiny and smooth and silver
and sharp at one end
to open multitudes
to unlock bottles of sweet red wine
and pour it out
for all to taste
to drink wonders deeply
and inhale aromas
but instead you
spiral
until the cork crumbles
around you and
mildewy mulch
falls into the bottle
spoils the wine
with bitter silt.

It tastes like ash now.
Sludge.
Ruined.
Spilled
on the ground.

Corkscrew mind,
how far you fell
how much you dismembered
how wasted your
sharp, yet silken self.

Hello. So...

I see you're writing - good -
of love and nicotine in ink
and ****** threads, like vapor
swirling down the sink
of dreams and dying hopes
and burning for a drink
aching lust for perfume
that leaves a ling'ring stink
of epic love and romance
chained with iron link
of standing in a storm
or skating thinnest rink
being on a bridge
or breaking on a brink
bemoan that no one listens
but don't say what you think
a soulful galactic pull, or
stars suicid'ing wink -

tell me how you know so much, poet...
      when you've been here but a blink.

When I went to bed I was 17 –
plumes of raven hair and cigarette smoke
wreathed my head and I coughed,
tamping the embered end before kissing
him goodnight -
soldier’s cap a tilt to one side
muscled chin blemished by lipstick
as the screen door flags between us, and
summer makes its last sweet
serenade to the dancing aspens
while momma chided my lackadaisical
entrance and
fairy flight to bed.

At ten o clock I wake now
the aspens stand still, bare, black.
I look down to see
withered fingers writhing in tubes,
ugly blue veins, a strange
woman sponging my lady parts,
calling me “sweetie” like I was a child.
I scream for momma,
I look for him -
my love, my soldier -
starved for familiar faces, as
panic ropes its tendoned grip
through my ribcage, around my trapped
spasming-butterfly heart.

What have you done to me?
Strangers, monsters, *******.
I groan...no words come out, but
squeals and shrieks like a strangling
rabbit, my neck caught in a wire.
What’s wrong with me?
Where are you, my soldier?
Where are you, momma?
Why are they keeping me from you?

You see…when I went to bed I was 17.
When I woke,
I was on my deathbed.

It’s not fair, momma.
If I could do it over, I...
I never would have left him
on the porch, I
never would have passed you
in the kitchen, I
never would have slept
not one hour
not one **** minute
would I have willingly succumbed to
slumber with the faint hush of
summer’s overtures
fading
to the blank slate of
                               a white,
                                             white
                                                       winter.

Her alabaster shoulders shamed by
scandalous spears of searing light
crashing from the frame of oak
that broke the smoldering night
a whispered confessional of sinners
plunged into passioned plight
Juliet y Angelica accost by Romeo
and he no rapier wit or steel to fight
nor they the kissless tongues to plead
or frozen feet to take their flight

only hearts to bleed.

Torch flame and red wine.
                          I'm doused in paint and sweat
                          Stomach curdled in hunger and irritation.
He is late.
He usually is.
                          The wine was for me.      
                          Nevertheless, I let him sip from my glass.
           We argue. Pardon...discuss.
                           I win.
                           I usually do.
           We watch the bottle vanish.
           We recline.
           We muse.
                           I relax into my own sore muscles
                           including the muscle in my chest
                           tell a story that sharpens its ache.
He stutters.
                           I startle as
he kicks his chair out from under him.
            Tears flicker in torchlight.
            Hands clasp too fervently.
            Questions.
                           No. Actually...
                                  
...just one.

                           I knew the answer, but was
                           left
                           utterly

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                     
                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­ speechless.

As soon as the alarm explodes,
the silence after seems spoiled.
Quiet slips into one ear, through the tube in my skull, and out the other side -
a precipitous flow of energy.
      Here.
      Gone.
Drowned in the avalanche of thought -
      anxiety
      anger
      awe
      analysis
all of it tumbles like a cage of numbered Bingo *****
clattering against the bars as my subconscious turns the handle.

Stop
      Please
            S t o p. I t.
                  NOW.

I just want to be
for just a moment.
I just want to hear
your breath falling
slipping into one ear, through the vortex, and out the other side
smoothing the roiling sea like a summer wind
sending whispered shudders
through my neurons
silencing the cacophony
as it flows
      and fades
            into quiet.

I remember the first time
I felt panic, I
Had been raised in a beautifully-constructed world of my mother’s making where I could
Take my time and step from subject to subject like hopscotch or skipping rope because I wanted to know it all
Drinking it all in, soaking in knowledge like a bath
Learning everything there was to learn
Leaving no stone unturned
No one told me I couldn’t
Swirl my fingertips in acrylics, read books on horses having *** at age seven because I wanted to be a veterinarian, hit the soprano notes though I was an alto, crush dandelions into healing potions, create a world on a stage with crying child actors, nick cardboard boxes and clocks because I knew I could move time backwards

Then I grew up and
The grown-up world was not so forgiving
Examinations, papers, time clocks, meetings, expectations I could not meet with the excellence my soul craved
I can’t breathe
Fear had a choke-hold on my throat
My mouth would dry, then wet as my stomach swirled and groaned with nausea
My hands turned into ice picks
My heart screamed like a jackhammer in concrete
Every possible worst-case, best-case, win-win, lose-lose, lose-win scenario would rush and overthrow my amygdala like a union mob besieging an abusive factory that never closes, never lets them rest
I didn’t realize it was because the only way to do it all and be it all and hit every deadline and finish every task was to sacrifice perfection, to become average, mediocre
Assimilate

And I learned the truth
That that was all the world expected of me anyway
You see there is no patience for anything else in the real world
I can’t breathe
I have no emotion, only thought processes
Paralyzing, debilitating clash between suppressed desires to take my time, create, innovate, learn and the overwhelming need to
Focus, decide, move faster, work harder, be on time, be better, please everyone, be everything
Be nothing
To where the only choice is let go of that part of yourself or go insane

So I shed my skin like it was a sin I was leaving behind
Just to survive
Without the headaches, the heartbreak, ripping my hair out over stupid little mistakes
It’s taken this long to find it in my closet again
To not be afraid
Of the soul it takes to
Perfect

Your arms slung
under my head and knees, and
though you had cleaned the gutters all day
and mowed the lawn
and dusted the webs from the shed, you
raised me from the undignified
slump on the couch
though you were tired
and carried me to my bed.

I was here once before.
Carried by a different man's arms.
I was smaller then.
My room scattered in Lego pieces
and plastic dinosaurs
now houses mountains of clothes and books
like Smaug piled his gold.

I was here once before,
but he is too old now to carry me
and I, too tall.
But you remind me of him.
You are young and strong enough
to lift me as he once did.

Perhaps, someday, he will see
and thank you for doing what he
no longer can.

Meanwhile
tears sting my eyes
as I realize
I have never been, nor will I ever be
strong enough to carry him
as you now carry me.

Nanoseconds streak naked like
rebellious starlight in spacetime
responding to no sentient's censure
striking hot the wired constellations
strung about my fingerless grip
they slip
retreating
eternal
into
The Void.

Since when did the world split
because someone walked into a room
10 minutes past due?
**** me now.

Since when did the earth shift
because you called someone at noon
and they called back around 2?
**** me now.

Since when did time rift
because you don't share their "soon"
but still came through?
**** me now.

Since when did we get caught up in arbitrary pettiness
of e-mails, phone calls, meetings, minutes, seconds
and miss the point entirely?

Mother of God.
**** me now.

I've never met anyone like you before
Anyone so clear, so simple, uncomplicated
Black rolled-up sleeves bare your heart
Pink lips that trip over incalculable risk

You are a cosmic irregularity
A consummate anomaly
A grammatical inconsistency
A mathematical improbability

The type that always knows what it wants
And that, you say, is me.

I've never met anyone like you before
I don't know if I ever will again
I didn't know what I wanted
Now I know

It's you.

French music
espresso swirls in my Chai
the rumble of conversation
clink of glass and silver
lean in to the chair back
admiring the view of a blank page
paper has poetic potential

when a voice crackles
severing my reverie
shredding my illusion
my carefully crafted imaginarium
I lean forward and type, suddenly
cringing, squinting, now
conscious of the fluorescent light
overhead and worker bees
buzzing in an office next to mine

my cup is made of paper
my music on a radio
my silver and glass only
kindly ambient noise
recorded by some lucky chap
really reclining
in a cafe somewhere
where they grind the coffee beans
fresh behind the counter

sad to think
my desk is no magic carpet
so much for a memory
of a Paris cafe

He shot Max.
My God. He shot Max.

Blood sprayed on the streets
at the uniform's feet.

They shot Kirby.
Oh Lord. They shot Kirby.

Bullet holes punch his flesh.
Pain radiates fresh.

She shot Kiki.
F**k me. She shot Kiki.

Inside her own fence?
You call that self-defense?

So man's best friend
comes to an end.

Listen, my children, and
clear the cedar smoke from your ears,
the firelight from your eyes.
Lean back and gaze
Gaze into the darkness
until you may better see the stars.
For it is in the stars
that you may catch his shape
and when you are bent and crippled
(like I am now)
know him as I foretold his coming.
Listen!
And I will tell you of what lies beneath
his white shell
in terms you will know and understand.

He is thunder.
The downpour breaks
under the weight of his voice.

He is the tsunami.
The white horses crash
under the whip in his arm.

He is the quake.
The tremor that ripples
under the pound of his boot heel.

He is the hunter.
The predator that vows
under the sheep hide you need not fear.

He is Modern Man.
The bloodtide that comes
under the guise of knowledge.

He will take our ancient earth
and call it "New World"
yet seek to make it like his old one.

He will make slaves
of man and beast.

**** and eat more than
his stomach needs.

****** his brother
for sport or pride or money.

He will promise much
and deliver only lies.

He will, with good intent,
   bring you gifts
   guns
   alcohol
   disease
   clothes
              dishonor

He will, without a thought,
   take your "gifts"
   food
   land
   women
   beasts
              blood.


You do not understand these things yet, my children.
But someday you will.

Narcissists
All of us
That crawl the saturated cyberspaces
Howling like shriveled
Infants doomed to die
In the womb, unheard

Be my friend
Follow me
Like me
Quote me
Share me

Favorite my poems
Repeat my tweets
Rank my posts high
Comment on even
The vaguest written word

Subscribe to my channels
Connect to my feeds
Stumble upon
My tumbled thoughts
And filtered photographs

Do you know who I am?
No really. I'm not angry.
Just...do you?
Because I am afraid
I'm afraid you never will.

I scream until my lungs
Collapse upon themselves
But still the shrieking noises
Around me, voices
Surmount my shouts.

I demand your attent
I deserve your loyalty
For no earned reason
Other than
I exist
I am Me.

And who are you exactly?

"Save me, Sabrina fair.
You're the only one
who can."

Are you Linus Larabee?
Am I Sabrina Fairchild?

I fear I cannot be
the savior that you ask of me.
You see,

I cannot save you
But I can love you
And love can save you

Would that I could break my body from my chest
crack and spread the bones between my *******
release the fluttering muscle tied within
a bird bashing skull against my cage of sin.

Would that I could unzip my flesh, step outside
to finally inhale, exhale without such tightened hide
that keeps my anxious breaths bound among
the shrinking corded confines of my lungs.

Would that I could peel back my ribs and skin
at the sternum to set free the beast within
unfetter the spirit that cares so much it aches
from all the petty failures for which it breaks.

Would that I could scream and rip my hair
as though slicing to ribbons each worry, every care.
Would that I could - would I? I know not.
I would just as soon have all loves be forgot.

I want to grow young with you
Watch superhero movies when
Our hairs turn silver blue

I want you to sing silly songs
Snort with laughter at my accents
When the days get long

I want to color in books with you
Read aloud our favorite tales
When the moon is full and new

I want to be your partner-in-crime
Canes tapping in synchronicity
When it's adventuring time

I want us to skydive, soar, be bold
so you and I will be growing young
long after our children have grown old

Dream I
We are underneath a treehouse.
He pulls the cord
to raise the platform on which we stand
and I splinter my hands
gripping cedar as we swing against gravity
stomach lurching in the heights.
He chortles
as I beg to be let down again.

Dream II
We are in bed,
yet I feel lonelier than if he were
a million miles away, or under another's sheets
and I grimace
as he tells me not to speak -
that my voice annoys him
even when my whispers, my caresses
are merely my love incarnate.

Dream III
We are in a bar without walls.
He smiles, dances on the bar top
backlit by a blue mirror and bottles
with a dark-haired wisp of a girl in white
and she isn't me.
No, I was unexpected.
I say hello and his smile disappears.
This observation spears my guts, as
he pretends not to hear.
I order a drink and pretend I never tried.

Dream IV
He leaps and gestures and goads,
poking fun and inspiring deepest belly laughs
and I should be blissful
but he flits from table to table
always passing mine.
Saving his jokes and witticisms
though I can think of a billion replies
better than everyone else's.
I turn to our mutual friend
who shrugs and lets it slide
saying this happens all the time.
Apparently, I am an audience
now considered too cheap
to buy.

I Wake...*

The television flickers.
His heads lolls onto my shoulder
and his longshank of a leg twitches.
I want to weep or *****, so
I move and
his arm tightens around me.
I want to shake him, when
his lips that are even softer, pinker than mine
uplift at the edge, and
part to whisper,
"Stay."

Each night I fear I have lost him forever
        and each day I wake to find he loves me still.

What will it take to convince me in the dark
        of what I, in the daylight, know by heart?

We are all planets; orbited by moons, gases, comets.
We fear when they escape our gravity.
Why? Suns fix our revolution, not they.

We each consider ourselves the martyrs of our own tragedy.
We think our pain is paramount -
that no one else could possibly understand.

We might be less anxious, more content, tranquil
if we realized we are satellites.
Not stars.

I have no qualm with Christ,
insists the common man or woman,
My thorn lies with "Christians."*

Interesting. It makes me think.
Perhaps there is a difference, then
between "Christian" and "follower."

One can deride a "member"
as one chortles at an arrogant child
for presiding over a tree house.

His father planted the tree
and his father nailed the boards to it
yet the child excludes as he sees fit.

One cannot demean a "follower"
for the follower acts the part of his father
and invites the other children in.

He learns their names and smiles
and shares his sandwich and cookies
with the *****, hungry faces.

So many among us will
step forward and throw the first stone
at the stain glass of a church

Yet who among you would
pluck that same stone and hurl it
at the face of Christ himself?

Enchiridion.
A manual, if you will, on
How to Break a Heart.

#1 - Forget
Forget the person
you are speaking to
has a history and a soul.

Forget they might
go home alone
and drink tonight.

Forget they may
have a dying mother
or sister
or friend.

Forget they may
be dying a little
themselves.

Forget they may
have tried to die
already once before.

Forget they may
look into your eyes
and see their only hope.

Do not project - that is most detrimental.

Forget the parts
of them that remind you
of you.

This is key.

2) Lie
Lie about your dreams.
Enhance nobility.
Emphasize similarity.

Lie about your interests.
Fake your level of enthuse.
Make lukewarm likes
into fiery hot loves.

Lie about your heart.
If it's been broken, don't say.
If it's cold and hard, omit.

Lie about the person.
Make yourself sound
much more certain
than you actually are.

Lie to yourself.
Make yourself believe
every single lie.

Now pay close attention.

3) Awaken
Awaken to the reality
of what you have done,
that you have gone too far.

Awaken to the next morning
lying against the heartbreak-ee.
Or even many
many mornings later.

Later is even better here.

Awaken to the moment
you realize they love you
and think you do, too.

Awaken to their tearful
confessions and soul-baring
embraces.

Awaken to your own lie
and fear that you
have been caught.

Please listen carefully. You are near success.

4) Disappear
Disappear as quickly as
a dawn vapor
or a cigarette plume.

Disappear without a word.
Run as fast as you can.
Say nothing.

No answer is even better here.

Disappear
when things are at their best
and they will ache
and strings left undone
will drive them crazy.

Disappear and let them
believe it was their doing,
their deficiency.

And, finally...

5) Repeat.

Congratulations.
You have successfully learned
How to Break a Heart.

You
Yes, you
You’re not supposed to know
About the parts of my body that shiver
With pleasure at the purchase of a glossy Spider-Man comic

And
You
You’re not allowed to know
How I want to dig my fingernails into
My brain matter when it’s racing light-years ahead of my emotions

And
You
You’re a stranger who shouldn’t hear
How I jettison ideas like bullets, poetry like shrapnel
In hopes that it will hit someone’s beating heart and make it bleed

And
You
You’re not obliged to absorb
My metaphors for how martyring it is to be alone
And truthfully how much more terrifying it is to belong to someone

You
Yes, you
You’re not allowed to read this
Barrage of brokenness if you found it under my bed, only
When I whirl it in cyberspace, shotgun-like, to blast you in the face

Yes
I said
You’re not allowed to read this
But truthfully?
All poets lie.

Pride fills your chest and you feel anthemic
Your thoughts are contagious
Pervasive, pandemic
Phrases like lasers
Searing gazes
At empty stages

But in the background
A playwright bleeds out on paper
Everyone told him fear is not real
But the lie burns acrid
Tastes like acid
What idiot would back this?
Grappling with ghosts
Only gets your *** kicked

Ignore it, and
It becomes a rope around your throat
Choking love
Choking hope
It’s a gag dipped in vinegar
Tightened over tongue
Wafting in your nostrils
Water in your lungs

Embrace it? It is sound and fury
And makes you question
That you have any questions left to ask
Or any words left to say
Any poems meant to write
Any battles worth the fight
Any gifts left to give
Any life left to live

Poet, Fear has a body
With a thousand different heads
This is what it looks like
This slimy source of all your dread
It's your mother when she told you to get a "real" job
It's your bills, it's your rejection slips
It's the "Sorry, not the right fit"s
It's the superstars
Without your scars
Whose work reads like ****

Fear is real
Don’t ever let them tell you differently
It’s real and it’s homicidal
it's maniacal and it's wild
it grips a butcher knife
and it comes to carve out your heart
cut away the playwright's smile

So, poet, posture cat-like
Beckon the foaming dog to bite
But bite you on your ground tonight
"I won’t pretend you aren’t there
so you can shadow my back
dagger between my ribs
**** my dreams in their crib"

Come get me, Fear
I smell you
I feel you
I’m ready for you

As for me, I favor fire
in its various incarnations
its many supple siren bodies
its many sultry, scorching fingers
sensually curling
dancing for me like a woman
stirring perspiration
warming my belly

I inhale its ashy breath
as it explodes in an ******
of light and dark
yellow and black
blood orange and ink
scalding, searing
shaping, sizzling
starving, swirling

hissing like a serpent
cackling as it devours
hungering and growling
reaching, desirous
for anything in its path
ravenously sinking teeth
into paper edges
licking bark of trees
******* the air and sap
like marrow
and leaving behind only dust

insatiable demon
that feeds on flesh
irresistible angel
that warms the soul
how would that I
could match the inferno
of your white-hot gaze!
evolve your overwhelming
unquenchable thirst for life
the ability to destroy
and to forge.

So as for me, I say at last,
I favor fire.

The match strikes
Scrape, crackle, hiss
Wisp of smoke
Waft of flameful bliss
So, too, you ignite me
With but a single kiss

Never ******* apologize
   for believing the liars

Never ******* apologize
  for loving the loveless

Never ******* apologize
   for the darkness

Never ******* apologize
   for deserving better

   for you are a luminous being
   you are a beautiful soul
   you deserve every kindness, and
   you will see it done
   even if you have to do it all yourself

Never ******* apologize
   for hoping

we all think we have something like no other
we all think "no one else has had late night talks like ours"
      "kisses like ours," "*** like ours," "a love like ours"    
we all think ours will not leave us

and when they do

we all think no one's pain can rival our own
we all think "no one has ever felt loss, tragedy like mine"
      "aches like mine," "benders like mine," "tears like mine"  
we all think we'll die alone

and when we don't

we all think we've hardened and learned our lessons
we all think “I'll never be that person who does it over and over again”
      “be loved again,” “abused again,” “betrayed again”
we all think we’ll never fall

and then we do.

My dry, swollen lids flicker open
a gust of sulfur and ash dries my tongue
clogs my narrow throat with chalk.
The concrete under my ribs is warm
still vibrating from the detonation
wet with gasoline or oil or...my blood?
My hand reaches to brace myself
I collapse gasping as the pain ignites
my flesh, and all I can see is meat,
a mangled sinewy stump where an elbow
my book-carrying elbow, had been.
Black smoke belches and plumes
the street that was pregnant with screaming
now still as a newborn birthed dead.
Sirens shriek, television crews scuttle
in hopes of burning our blood into film, but
my skull falls back, eyes roll, lashes fall, and
as my skin drains of heat and fluid, I realize
all I wanted was to go to school today.
That's all I wanted.

That's all.

The milky threads of calm, wound less neat
tighten their spread and tangled nets of heat

split seconds post an apocalyptic maelstrom
here rises the silence before the firestorm

furiously raveling strings of energy to a fiery knot
compressing all matter until it burns white and hot

molded and collapsing in its own gravity
the folding and re-folding of infinity

all universal light, crunched to but a single ray
explodes to birth the stars and break the day

an interstellar consummation of luminosity
until all is, yet at once, will cease to be.

You rub your fingertip
in a circle the size of a dime
on my spine
after the curtains ceased to move
I chortle
like a babe
swaddled in happiness
being with you
in the sunlight
and dust motes
and hushed notes
is safe and tranquil and flushed
with joy
and boy
being your girl
is sun-broken and mild
for this mustang spirit
used to wand'ring in the wild
I hold you tightly to me
and hope you see
that all I ever want to do
is love you
if you let me.

Mommy, can I keep him?

With his warm, dark eyes
and jet black whiskers
and wide, impish grin.

Mommy, can I keep him?

With his leaping limbs
and cuddling frame
and thudding heart.

Mommy, can I keep him?

With his barking laugh
and knack for love
and gentle kisses.

Mommy...I want to keep him, but don't know if I can.

Do you think I will make him happy?
Do you think he will want to stay?
Am I strong and smart enough?
Now that I'm grown up?
Should I keep him?
Dare I even try?

Mommy...
can I?

You stamp me out
like the **** of a cigar
vanilla swirled cumulus
fogs my throat
clouds my neural pathways.

I smolder and sputter
glow dimly red
only wishing for your lips
to breathe life
into me again.

I gasp, I wheeze
as you squash my heat
on the deck railing
wring out my last sparks
until finally

         my light goes out.

It stuck in my throat like glue
the first time that I said it back to you.
It buzzed like cables being rewired
crackled air as if a gunshot had been fired.
My gut swirled acidic. What comes next?
What promises might settle in the subtext?
What does it take for me to say it, too?
Thaw out my heart and cry out, "I love you."
You see, the problem is...I already do
but I fear someday that I'll be breaking you

just moments before your love can break me through.

You were all the chemicals I crave
A cocktail of all the elements
I couldn't refuse
Tall, dark, and nerdy
That's how I described you
To my best friend and she laughed
Those eyes
And a penchant for swearing
And American Spirits
A bad boy
A light-weight
And a snuggler
Co-existent in a Starcraft lover
Creating covalent bonds
At the bar over whisky
Losing ourselves in time loops
And infinity
I corrected your grammar
And you grinned
And I fell
Knowing that the Force was strong with this one
Too strong to resist
And I swallowed my heart
Like Ms. Pac-Man
The first time that we kissed

Go figure that a Jedi
Would fall so hard
For a Sith

Once, I thought my bones were made of marble
and bullets would sing through the air, press my flesh and fall
clinking to my iron-cast feet.

Once, I believed my mind was an untouchable machine
that thundered like a herd of wild horses, a hive of bees, a freight train
firing synapses in record time.

Once, I felt my choices made me something more than human
not like the mass of one-dimensional thinkers who wrung their pretty hands
fretting over day-to-day dramatics.

Once, I knew I was a demigod - immortal, special, surreal
and you could bask in the glow of my gold-forged heart and never be able to break it
pounding blood of fire and mercury.

Once, I was invincible.

Then this morning, I woke up made of clay
a creative, though unremarkable casting of dust
crumbling.

Just like everyone else.