Wanted to get drunk today.
WANTED TO WRITE TEN POEMS.
None of this happened, but the postman brought letters.
I opened them.

Skin felt absent on the occipital lobe.
Where amber, silica, sconce, crackle, glass exploded.
Lifted pillow 'bove my head.
Gravity took its power. Hold, sand shard dust and vase piece,
in my bed.

Wanted to sit in the park.
WANTED TO MAKE TEN ******* POEMS.
Needed a six foot tall model by my side,
in the windy park in the sunlight.

Children needed to dance around.
Wanted to see them puke up happiness.

On swingsets/marygorounds.

Wanted to be their fathers.
WANTED TO BEAT UP THEIR FATHERS POEMS.
Wanted to the cops to catch me.
Slaughter pigs, drink their blood.

Wanted lost in wanting.
WANTED TO BE BETWEEN HER LONG SOOTHING POEMS.
Wanted to clutch pretty.
Needed something like love...

or like drunk.

Needed to buy a forty today.
NEEDED TO COUGH UP WORD THROAT.
80 will do. If you have the proof
This didn’t happen. Instead,

I
Sat
Inside
And
Choked
On
My
Own
Enunciated
Emaciated
Words.

The poems never come out right anyways.

I sat outside tonight,
because the world was beautiful,
for the sky matched the rain;
a star for every droplet
of pure musical chime.

As I lay upon sweet soaked grass,
my surroundings became nothing more
then great harmonics from a sparkling xylophone
situated within a black room filled with glitter-
who no one told where to stop,
and it stretched to fill all notes of sound.

In this massive expanse of the imagination,
beset by stimulus on every side,
the human mind finds the space to dream in silver-chrome
and make it turn reality.

Tell me,
do you tire yet
of yellow roses
littering your wall;
hanging upside down,
and weeping their color
unto your bedroom floor
as they fade to match
the beige wall paper
they are tied to.
Paint one red
with passionate love.
let it be the shocking difference
in a swollen sea
of normalcy,
and long forgotten friends.
When its color fades
I promise to you
it will not go beige
to blend into its surroundings,
fading from your sight.
It will remain dark red
like wine, a reminder
of those heady moments
and happy nights,
where joy and laughter
flowed down the street
from interlocking fingers
moving in step
to one conjoined beat.
Hang that flower
in the middle
so it may proclaim
“I have stolen her heart,
and given her mine”.
Don’t settle now for yellow roses;
reach out and paint
a rose deep red.

I promised you i’d plant those **** pink roses but
that Sunday morning that you broke me in ways
even my best friend didn’t think was possible

and i realized it was probably a good thing
that the whole thing was a production of strictly pretend;
a play, a script, an authors first mistake-

that day, i clipped every last flower
off and set the remains in a little drawer
with shards of glass i broke in my sleep
because i loved you every single day

despite my
i’m over you i’m over you i’m over you
that i repeated with the foolish hope of
convincing somebody that air still funnels through my lungs

and it’s come to my attention that
i’d pick my head over my heart but that is only
because i am a toy car abandoned by every single
pair of hands to wind it up and let it go

And yes, I will reduce my emotions to dust or
enlarge them in full zoom but
I cannot get over that fact that the clementines rotted in front
of us and

you devoured the part of me that let my heart reign over
my head and snapped the key to my rib cage;

you promised you would keep it safe and
you *lied

If you are defeated,
Fall victim to desideratum;
You should achieve. Together
We can consummate your
Greatest accomplishments as
We take account of others' deeds.

If you are lonely,
Find yourself forlorn;
You can find company in me
To be not so lonesome.
Together we will be where we belong.

If you are ill,
Stricken with disease;
We can cope with the mortal glow
of your grin as pestilent germs
Infect our infectious yearning.

If you are hungry,
Starved with empty and lack;
You should eat.
And if you are tired,
You should sleep.

The truth is
It’s 5:05 in the morning and sleep is at an impasse
With the coffee I had for dinner last night, today, this morning—
Time moves so slowly when it’s morningdark and
So many others are beginning their days while
I have yet to finish mine.
You are not among them,
Lurking just as I do somewhere in an inbetween;
You sit heavy in my thoughts
Anchoring them in an uncomfortable place,
Torn between missing you and hating you.
You are the poison in my system,
You’re that third cup of coffee keeping me deliriously awake.
But you’re also my miraculous antidote,
The full night’s sleep teasing
My bloodshot eyes and my perma-fried nerves.

Because the truth is, I love you more and more each day
Reaching a boiling point every time the sun finally gets to kiss the moon
hello, good morning
For the briefest of moments before he must say once more
farewell, goodnight.
The truth is, my love, I’ve spent all these nights missing you terribly
And I fear you’ve scarcely
Thought of me
At all.

Last night I danced like my dad
with a girl who resembled a dictionary definition
I read not long back-
charming.

Graceful eyes that could
stop traffic with a blink,
and engaging lips that
would smile to sooth the pain of
the midday, gotta-get-back-home-now,
commuters whom step
on pedals with haste.

I lied. My dad can’t dance, so last
night I made a fool of myself
in front of a girl who resembled
a dictionary definition I read not
long back.

There are yellow daisies,
Two pairs of glasses,
And a watch abandoned in the dark.

There are socks strewn across the floor,
Jeans, a belt, a bra.

I am curled like a comma
Next to your heated skin,
Listening to you breathing in,
And out--
Rhythmic like the tides.

The stars have faded.
The morning light may soon trickle in,
but for a silent, suspended moment--
It's just you and me

On the cusp of dawn

He'll  hate me if I do,
I'll hate me if I don't.
I am only one person,
Just doing what she won't.