things never come out
quite the same
in ink
as in mouth

especially:

Thank you.
I love you.

and

I'm sorry...

I was so mad
I forgot to be all my sad

survival gremlins work fast
packed most of it up
behind my back
stowed it in the attic

in a dust-draped corner
next to a heap of tangled wires
and a vintage Smith Corona

and now I see
your name permanent, on repeat
a cardboard Sharpie-scrawled
nonlinear timeline
stacked precarious

I keep questioning
why I'm up here
when I crack boxes
they siphon me in
to a grip of whys and ifs
that pin me horizontal

I think I like it
when they topple

pointy perpendicular assault
trying to impale inside
and paper cut

so pulpy marrow
can pry its way back
into my hollow bones

you were
the biggest folder
in my Evernote
labeled Prolix Ranter

because I got sick
of scrolling your ****
and wanted precise
dosages

I deleted it
then swallowed
my tongue
and for so long

no words would come

then you trickled in
iridescent thought bubbles
with minds and time
all their own

I don't know
how to pop them

but they sure as ****
know how to find me

and make my fingers
crave

the pen

at some point
I just have
to laugh

or else cry

and I've already
drowned
my eyes

pacing sordid circles
with rambling feet
shot off the curve
of this smoking hip

behind me
an errant path
of scar-let tracks

it's so silly
really

all the things we did
and didn't do

all the things we said
and meant to follow through

we defied
societal op orders

usually it goes hello
then eons of pretense
merry-go-round
exquisitely painted masks
marveling at each other's *******

but we tripped
some secret passage switch
falling through corridors
landed abruptly
in the phosphorescent core
and tagged the pulsing walls
with lines visceral

it's a backwards procession
and we keep eating asphalt
imagining simple things
seems rather inconceivable
like tea...

and when I do imagine
it's usually a pantomime
of exaggerated expressions
giggles and holding back tears
from all that can never be said

it's safe to say
I'm lost
and confused

somewhere between

me
and you

this is purge
toxic upchuck sludge
rigorous rigor mortis decay
it's not pretty, but it's real

wish I had cupped hands overflowing
with moon rocks and pixie dust
but I'm plumb out at the moment

these words are septic
and the valves rusted over
to get it running again
you gotta let flow

stomach sores fester
bloated bile gurgle
sloshing esophageal shores
the unsaid brimming ruefully

on the cusp of all that was, is
or doesn't even matter anymore
**** if I know

it's all stagnant murky

sitting in rubble
lingering on leveled

before dismantle
scraped down cyan

this dust
this mess

jagged frags of us

it's all
still here

kissing smithereens

blush flush blooming
unfurled petals bow
to nectar rush
in river's mouth

preceding primordial
third eye flicked LED

skirt dust swirls
reincarnate tumbleweeds

waltzing slate circles
picking up speed

to bring your everything
into this charred coal vortex
whirring as we walk through

don't leave behind
one sliver of a shard oxidized
rusted wretches inclusive

bring it all
and toss it in

we'll corset fingers
as our debris mingles
cylindrically

we can't shake
these shambles

but we can
sling it into orbit
rearranging, alleviating
the weight

holding is so heavy

especially
the shame