The day began
As it always does
With children never jumping
Rope with talons at each end.

But the distant tree was
Found broken into branches,
Severed in the middle,
Ends melting to the ground.

And now ants awaken,
Thinking of lovers always lost,
Feet stuck, eyes up,
A once uncut core now ravaged.

Very few men regret respect.
He let letters spell tense verses,
Perfect sentences expended stench.
Let be the rebel.
He never knew tender revenge.
He fed severed eyes every week.
He defended her when men,
Wrecked her.
The teeth felt cement,
The red, wet,
Perfect emergency mess.
The new men weep weekly,
When twenty peppered teeth,
Seep neck deep.
Her sweet self descends,
He deserves respect,
Never-the-less,
Endless weeks were spent.
Defy her energy,
Let hell center her.

Cut me up.
Right down the middle,
From temple to toes
From heart to soul.
Thanks, thoughts.
Bleed for this moment,
Feeling the brisk breeze,
Let time be your anchor,
And breathe.

Dear time,

We once got along.
Peas in a pod with
Symbiotic stature.

Now we take our paces.
Make our cruel remarks
And give tears away
Before siestas.

Tie a string to your finger,
So you can remember,
That love,
Is hard,
To come by.
It's hard to keep,
And even harder to ignore.

Let that string remain.
Let it get coarse and thin.
Let it dangle as you run.
Let it soak in the bath,
Taking up suds,
While you take off grime.

Untie.
Tie.
Untie.
Let it fall on the table.
Let your fat cat chase it.
Put it on the stove,
And watch it burn to nothing.

Take the ashes to the streets,
Keep them in your pocket as you run,
As they seep through the seems,
Feel the dust fall down your leg.
Let your skin absorb its memory,
Like graffiti pops on a blank wall,
Like a trail beaten into the earth remains,
Long after it's abandoned.
Like the stain of sauce on that fresh white shirt.

Like a string tied to your finger.
All of which can never be forgotten.
Should never be forgotten.

Do not deny that bow once sat,
Perched on your pinkie.
Do not ignore the future it implied,
Or your expectations.
And know that,
That red line,
Remains,
Even after the string is gone.
It never truly disappears.

When I think of you,
My Mind detaches my Heart from my Body.
It floats alone.
It teeters to the rhythm of the words you say.
It nests itself in the warmth between my legs,
When you say "I'm still hurt".
It elevates and rolls in front of me,
As if powered by hot air.
But it easily deflates like helium balloons,
To the point where it sits empty on the floor,
With its legs straight out in front,
Cracking its toes and rolling its ankles in confusion.
Sometimes my Heart stands on tip toes,
Reaches with fingertips extended,
Waiving at my Body,
Pleading for me to put it back in its place.  
But my Mind pays no mind to its advances.  
My Mind's ulterior motive is to divorce my heart,
To separate entirely.
To be completely distant entities.
They were once lovers,
Who've now found comfort in each other's pain.

I'd rather die than listen to your poetry.
**** pellets of perfection,
Forget rhyme, rhythm or talent,
Leave that **** for the poets,
The saps and the *******.
Don't start with that alliteration.
No pantooms or odes.
I'd rather place my head on the chopping block.
I'd rather watch blood with such high viscosity,
That it flails and leaps toward the opened mouth,
Pleading "no more! No more!"