Fallen angels and pixies and such,
Look into Earth’s skies,
Remembering much,
Of their life as it was,
Time and energy fields,
From the young star above us,
To the way the wind feels...

Could it ever compare
To the home that once was?
Oh, I say to you, “yes…”,
Yes, it can,
And it does.

I want to be a dog's growl:
  as rough as bark.
As I ruff and I bark
  until my throat bleeds,
down my tongue,
  and clots, choking me.
Strangling my anger.

  I want to bite God's hand
and taste the scars and lines.
  I want to run alongside
the downfall of man
  like I'm chasing cars.
Waiting to be run over.

I want to be castrated,
  neutered,
so I can fall in line,
  so I can conform,
so I can be me in a sea
  of nobody else.

I want to be beaten
  with a chain
attached to my neck.
  I want to be on t-v.
I want to be saved.
  I want to betray trust.

Generic. Generic.
  I want to be like this poem:
  generic, you martyr.
You genocidal ****.
  You deadbeat.
You racist.
  You sexist.
You intolerant ****.
  I want to chew off
my trapped leg.
  I want to be a dog's growl.

.

Here I am again
I stir in my bed, waking
as my thoughts instantly
become you

How did you sleep,
how do you feel,
are you smiling
and are you thinking of me too

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes,
I stumble to the kitchen,
make myself a cup of coffee
and grab my notebook

I hear thunder in the distance,
as I sit down to write
another poem I hope you will see,
but you probably won't

Words seem lost in my empty heart,
but still I write,
as if I am talking to you,
as if you can hear me

Telling you how much I love you,
in short verses filled with my affection,
truthful phrases expressing how I feel
in my best poetic way

Yes, here I am again
another dark rainy dawn,
another poem written,
another Sunday morning...missing you

~

i'll serve dinner,
drinks and romance,
if you'll wear...
ambiance!

~

*post script

yum-my

In flashes,
her face dances
on top of a
broomstick body.

She refills
coffee cups and
her stomach with
butter pecan ice cream
and lovers' saliva.

But her lovers are
strangers
and her mouth is a
place
where secrets are locked
behind smoke stained teeth.

In flashes,
her ambitions escape
into the jet black night.
Cigarettes dropping like
sputtering fruit flies.

A size seven New Balance
buries a Marlboro corpse,
burning out like the light
in her kiwi eyes.

She returns to the diner.
What echoes reign free.

I couldn't wait for the day the sun didn't feel like it was trying to burn me, or for the day the rain wasn't trying to fill my lungs. I couldn't wait for the day the highway wouldn't sound like it's calling me to play with it, or the day sidewalks quit threatening to swallow me whole. There was something about the way my fear of love made the words wrap themselves around my vocal cords. I'm sorry I've never been able to get those three words out without sounding like I'm going to choke. I couldn't wait for the day my love for you didn't feel like a consequence or for the day I could convince myself that what you felt for me was real. The truth is I'm not used to people staying longer than I'm able to hold myself back from pushing them away. I got in the habit of writing my love to you on the parts of my skin that I'd never let you see, so that tearing off my clothes would be the easiest way to show you how I feel. My veins are filling with ink now, a mix of red and blue filled with words left unsaid. Some nights I talk to the walls, some nights they tell me about where your knuckles made dents when I'd whisper in my sleep about leaving you; I never really thought you'd be the first one out the door. Loving you was making excuses. Loving you was throwing diamonds in wishing wells, knowing my hope wasn't worth the price. Sometimes when the highway calls me, sometimes when the sidewalks threaten to swallow me whole, sometimes when the rain fills my lungs with water;  letting you go looks a lot like the final death of me.

I remember us all sneaking across fences to grab the cooler full of beers she said were behind her dad's house. The back lights came on and we became swift as wind, running down alongside the river bank laughing and choking drunk all of us were. But we got our beers.

I remember leaving the house party, stumbling from one side of town to the other, smashing every pumpkin I saw along the way. When you found me, I was dazed. You said you just followed the guts along side the road and smiled.

I remember the bonfire at the moon towers, they drove off the flats in a fit of youth and invincibility. I half heartedly mocked, "they're gonna wreck. " Two hours later we picked them up from the side of a dirt, gravel, road as they walked away from the shattered glass and mangled trees. He still thanks me to this day for the ride home.

I remember walking down the street with you and that ******* my back, the street in front of your house. We all looked up for some reason and saw that ghostly flash of light pass across the front of the light pole. We froze, and then calmly walked back to your front porch, ours brains wracked with what it could have been. We still don't know.

I remember seeing you at her funeral, you were torn down and she was being laid to rest at an age much to young, only 15. You were with your new boyfriend but you still said you wished it was me by your side and for a moment life didn't seem so grey and hazy. I still never apologized for being who I was. I'm sorry.

I remember more about the sleepy little town we all grew in than I care to admit, holding all these moments close to my heart. It was the only place that felt like it accepted me. Even now that everyone is gone and our shades haunt that high school, I still feel a presence when I go back home to visit. Our little Donnie Darko town.

they look at old photographs of me
i'm smiling ever too brightly-
a soft glow on my face
a crooked canine tooth  
salty lips and adventurous blood
pumping through skinny veins
i know i will never have you-
get you underneath me, your lips
and fingers smashing mine-
because i've lost all confidence when i'm around you

they look at me now
i am still smiling-
still ever so slightly glowing- once in a while-
i still have that crooked tooth
but i no longer have salty lips
nor adventurous blood-
i am too chubby, too short,
too broken and hurt
for you to ever love me again.

i look at myself then-
i look like i'm trying to impress
-dressed to the nines
even in the supermarket-
that's not me

i look at myself now
i am too depressed
for you to ever love me again.