We were crazy.
he and i.
We'd cut ourselves with rocks to see
whose blood would run the fastest,
It was hailing and we went for a swim.
Nuts.
He said he had a rope. He said
there's two Smith and Wessons in his ******* closet.
I kissed him.
No favorite colors,
We'd lie in the shade of synagogues and under the blaze
of search lights, a couple of lost springs. Picking me
up around the corner so they wouldn't see, he'd
tumble his bike so that we'd fly and i'd scream.
Beautiful.
He said for us to run away. Never sweat. He said let's
run, let's ******* run. He said shut the ******* door.

I run. Run away. He doesn't like me to. He had a rope
and there's two Smith and Wessons in his closet.

prairie girl, home for the summer
                    steals ceramic eyes to shade
         sunrises of gasoline kisses -
                    she lies underneath and counts
                             each, whilst marveling at snow-
                             globe winds and birds that can't
                             fly.

What.

He ate out my heart and threw it up.
Poison lungs, poison veins-
****.

Viscera numbed, spined eels wriggle,
I am ******.

****** as in : a shut-in, swain of Gehenna, rocked, rolled.
He needed more rope for his net and so cut out my tendons.

What skies to worship now? What skins?

This sea is non-believing, filaments unhearing. So, magic in hand, i become tremors in the waves, rust in the walls.

Doll snatcher, let me down.

Numbed spines, turn-table minds of froth and iron, we shook-
Holding the flashlight while he wrenched at engine and rubber in the rain. Ward of the physical touch. When it wasn't too wet, we'd paint the windshield to match infinity then get in and drive. Drive, just go! As we
Implode.

Or lie in feilds. How many they are, numerous as stars, grassbeds sprinkled with violets and clover. -So similar. So same. The roads (we'd race, tires screeching, screaming, outrunning, false) and clouds that look like bedroom windows.

Anything's better than home when you don't know you're sick.

Allow me to
c o l l  e  c   t.
along tunneled ceilings^ and
unused bones.
They tell me that fire
is hot**
and lakes freeze [over in winter
but I can feel
china doll shar"ds underlying
skins. (Some mornings, when I wake up too early, they've protruded a bit so that they catch against my bedsheets and ensnare us. I grab a hammer from under the bed, pound out silt-size rubies and tangles of flesh)


(Oh, mother, mother, take me in, take me in)

Tiger, i
swim at night to keep my skins
Pale. And marinate moon-dipped tundras.
Splash, ripples as i spear tides with flesh and bone, collapse into waters taut as untested brides. 'Paradise,' I'm told, though my eyes reveal but shadows upon the shores. Not to be depressing.
Stay under with me a bit longer my love.