roll with the punches baby try not to shatter while you wait to
feel it
it might take a while for every synapse to come alive but
i promise you'll feel it in the end
light up like a christmas tree with every nerve impulse 100 watts your body
will light up the room.
you cast shadows on the moon and i wonder why
is it so cold?
(this wasn't what i wanted when i picked up a pen,
but it seems
like every poem becomes part of you
your blood runs in these pens and i can't help writing about you and your
talus -
that word means both
jagged rocks when you look down from a cliff and oh is this what you want
and the bone of your heel
that you grind into my chest and ****,
i think
that sums you up
pretty well.)
because your sparks were always the best thing about you,
when you short-circuit and sputter and all your lights flicker your synapses
have more life than they know what to do with
roll with the punches and cradle your cheek and be grateful that
at least you didn't crack
because electricity and water don't mix and you've killed enough sharks
in your lifetime.
you don't need another funeral on the mind
when you're still watching the procession
of your own -
(or maybe it's just a fantasy
which is
more likely than not,
you were never able to face that talus
at the bottom
or your christmas lights sputtering and
stopping) -
you watch your own funeral and breathe and i
pray
to god for a miracle
because your measured breaths are the saddest thing i've ever seen because i know
you're just breathing by eights

[eight protons eight neutrons eight seconds in and out
atomic number eight processes to stay alive]

the periodic table hung on your wall like a map of the world you
breathe by eights and i pray harder and breathe ragged you were always more measured than me like
you're morse code and i'm an earthquake
you're heart rate and i'm arrhythmia
you're chemistry and i'm alchemy and you disprove me with every breath
you the child of bright mathematics i crumble in your gaze
but still you short-circuit and i stroke your hair and breathe ragged while you sputter
your synapses can't hold all your life so i'll conduct the overflow
ground your talus in my chest and i will take all your flickers for my own.
it might take a while
but you'll feel it
i promise
because it's not so cold with your short-circuits in my chest and i bet it's not so numb
with my pens scratching your arms
you light up and i wonder how you can breathe so steady
with all this smoke
in the air
(i was breathing  ragged already but you said asthma suits me and
i guess you're right because
you were always the one with all the elements memorized while i
struggled to remember that air
could be something other than
painful)
you short-circuit and i stroke your hair and pray
for your numbers to add up
this time
and you sigh and disprove me
again
because i only live in your flickers and sputters and my
ragged breath
and i pray you will flare brighter light up stronger because
when you feel that punch
i can't conduct that impulse.
roll with the punches baby you'll feel it i promise it
just takes a while
breathe by eights keep that heart rate steady
you imagine your funeral procession and sputter
i breathe ragged baby i will take all your misfires
and write odes to your sparks
just be ready for that feeling when it hits.

Sometimes it is just too easy to quit.
Sometimes it is just too hard to keep going.
Sometimes I don't care.
Sometimes I care too much.

The pain is inside,
The pain is outside.
Sometimes I just want it to stop.
Sometimes I think about stopping it.

Then you show up.
You either call or come over ....and I have no choice.
I have to stay here.
I have to keep going.
I have to keep feeling.

Why do you tie me to this world?
Why do you care so much, whether I'm here or not?
Why do I have to care so much for you?
Why can't I just rest, sleep, find peace?

The joy of having you in my life is all that saves me.
The joy of having you in my heart is all that keeps me going.
I am tied to this life because of you.
We belong, here and now.

I fight the darkness with everything I am,
Because I know I have to if I want to survive.
I want to survive because you have shown me what Love is.
You have shown me that the Light is my Salvation.

The doors we opened together have changed me.
I still want to sleep - find peace,
But I know that I will be able to do that only when I am free.
I will not be free until I finish the work set before me.

You will not let me go.
You say it is because you love me.
I love you so much it hurts.
That is why I set you free.

My advice to you?
Run, don't walk, to your nearest exit.
That way, you won't see the end....and I won't feel the guilt.
As long as you stay, I can't leave.
As long as I stay, there is pain.

Run.
I am.

i wonder when ghosts from
our pasts die,
do we feel them go
like we do the
living?

I fear one day I should have daughters,
Yet I already know their names:
Ruby, Jane, Dotty, Maggie, Charlotte.
Would it be a blessing or a curse
If they turned out like me?
My mom told me when I was young
“it ain’t easy being a woman, I’m sorry.”
Sure as **** that was true.
I swear I never took that woman for a fool.
I can’t help the way it plays in my head
The pain in a woman’s eyes
Her smile so alive
It tells every lie
Deep down she’s half dead.
As I walk this path myself
Just as generations before
I wonder if that’s why
Little girls have such pretty names
To have something to keep it together for.
I’m older now and I still dream of their faces
How they’ll do right by
Our family of strong women
Whose names they were given.
Don’t be sorry, Mamma dear,
You pass your burdens to me
So our family can survive another year.

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
I ran to you for help
For someone to talk to
For someone to listen
For someone I thought cared. 

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
I never thought of the day that you'd graduate and leave me behind. 
I knew I'd miss you
But I never realized why. 
I thought it was simply because you were my best friend. 

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
I miss you more than ever
Now that I know I won't see you again
That you won't be there for me
That I don't have someone to talk to. 

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
But I never thought of you leaving
I never thought we'd stop talking
I never thought we'd stop being friends
I never really thought. 

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
But I never looked past that day
That week
That year. 
I never paid attention. 

I took you for granted
Always thinking you'd be there
I was wrong
I took you for granted
And never thought about the end of school
I took you for granted. 
Always thinking you'd be there.

i wonder what you'd look like
if you were stripped of your skin,
would your bones be as perfect
as your shell?

or would they be heavy with scars
etched into you slowly, filled with ink,
and laced with names you
wish you could forget?

Today I straightened all of the hairs on my head
whether they needed it or not.  I like being organized.
Ironing out the kinks in my leather jacket with a baseball bat.
I try to cut the blues from the spinning record,
flicked numbered matchsticks across vinyl to
set the fleshed room on fire,
don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire.

Being on top of my **** is like handmaking
beeswax candles, I twist & turn, carving wax
in the air—There is always more to do, I
always tried to cross t’s and
sort the junk mail from the paychecks,
accidentally dropping cigarettes into the piles of post.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched you
lick postage stamps for the outgoing flood.  
The laundry gets done even though I’m
too tired to pull my key out of the door.

I am in control of my own destiny.

I smoke Coca Cola & drink cigarettes for breakfast
because I don’t roll out of bed on the right side
of any given day, and
yesterday I put my foot
through the television
because tap-dancing on the shards
of the wood-paneled tube from dad’s first marriage
sings gnashed-teeth harmonies
with the microwave’s low groan at 3AM—

I used to eat cold spaghetti in torn jeans and nothing else
while you flipped through channels on basic cable
to hear the collage painting the end of the world.  You were
always an empty can that year, you saved
orange peels to fill with oil to burn—
your name whispers itself into the grease hissings and
I hear it over the skyline and I cannot seem to find a match
to strike to light the last crumpled smoke in my pack—

All I want to do is send you photographs with singed corners,
photographs of your letters, attempts to burn away
any sight of you, ways to cut&bin;; the flint that ignites
the only bonfire in my eye.

And sometimes I wish I could just scream at you until
the flowers crawl up the brick walls of your apartment;
my kitchen smells concrete like celluloid ashes and
if I snap my fingers to break broken promises and
floss my teeth with violin strings I might not miss you
anymore.

i am beginning to wonder when i started finding
imperfections so beautiful

maybe it was when i decided
i would never be perfect,
and that the only way i could look at myself in the mirror
was if i started with the ugly scars on my ankle
and made my way up slowly
past my knobby knees,
prominent hip bones,
too-small chest,
pointy nose,
until i looked myself in the
eyes,
taking in every abnormality or distinct deficiency
until i could convince myself they were unique enough
to be considered in someone else's eyes
"pretty"

i began doing the same thing with everyone else,
turning their flaws into something charming
so much
so that when i came across you,
i didn't have to think about it-
i knew from the start that you would be
perfect.

It's crazy how a love so pure and so sweet
can change in a split second to so dark and deep.

Thoughts unsaid.
Emotions not felt.

You want to know what I want?

       A proper date.
    Flowers. Not always. Once every few months is fine.
  To be wooed, courted a bit.
Gooooooood ***. Bodies drenched and flushed.
A **** Fine Kiss. (Suddenly gathered in someone's arms in the middle of the street.
   The kind that leaves you breathless, panting, and needing more.)
     A good cuddle on the sofa during THE WALKING DEAD.
       Hours of intellectual conversation as foreplay.

You want to know what I get?*

Hanging out with friends.
    Pictures of flowers sent to my Facebook inbox.
      Someone letting me know they're quite keen on me, but only until I show an interest back.
        Half-hearted whatever-the-hell that's supposed to be.
           Lazy kisses where the mind wanders.
        Forcing my dog to cuddle during walker attacks.
     Having to explain what "Beware the Ides of March" means. Among too many other things.
   Mind games.
And secret messages so their wives don't see.

I get creepsters
and/or
married men
and/or
people from out of town/state/country who fancy me.

That last one's not bad, mind you. Just not very possible.*

So if you're keen...
ask yourself...

...which one of those categories do you fall under?