I'm really really sorry
I don't love you like I should
Or hold you in the ways
I told myself I would
But I'm no good at promises
You knew that from the start
Though I know I'm still responsible
For someone else's heart

slow ride in blue morning light -
glinting off your shoulder -
carrying the weight of last night -
we lost ourselves if only for a moment -
ago I realized we're older -
than we used to be
(I ate my own insides -
slow smolder)

once the anchor on my soul
(kept me full and tethered down)
now i start to drown

i'd like to live in the geometry
of your body
like the cut of your kneecap
and the planes of your cheek
build myself along the rays
growing from your fingers
like so many smokestacks
the dodecahedron
Platonic in my orbit

if i really could
i'd cross-stich your name on my
arteries and veins

Today I put a Tylenol PM on my tongue
And let it sit there all bitter and blue

Not for any reason, really
Except for memories

Like the book I read once that said
Sitting in bathwater as it drains

Must be how it feels to die

Harmonic suspension, first-chair, and gold
This is the sound of the end of the world
Sweaters of steel-wool and spring revolutions
The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen

This is the sound of the end of the world
Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled
The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen
He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent

Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled
Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold
He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent
Throat full of something too thick in the moment

Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold
Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull
Throat full of something too thick in the moment
He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments

Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull
The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse
He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments
Caught in the gravity of something immense

The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse
Gradient gray like the ***** of sweet candles
Caught in the gravity of something immense
He pays tribute to God in his newspaper tent