Wild glare, wild nights
Peter Pan and Wendy
Love at first sight.
Car door,
Smashed bones
I lied I lied I lied
"I didn't take him home."
Melted brain,
Moment passed
You darling narcissistic brat
I never, no I never
never said I'd take you back.

I was buying coffee in the morning, by myself as ******* usual, when I realized what we had got into the night before. In a haze I’d woken up with blood on the pillow from my disgusting cracked dry split aching slurring ******* singing ****-teasing foot in between my teeth spitting pulling bleeding stinging lips, and you were gone again. All cause these days I drink more whiskey than water. Because I saw it in a movie with a cute little proper British girl in a tiny dress order it. Whiskey gin-jah, she said to the fictional bartender. But I haven’t drank ginger ale since I was a sick complaining little eleven year old goblin who thought that *** was for people in love and that they just lay there naked and married each other or the movie ended or something. Now I’m only left with half the equation. Whiskey. Sometimes when I’m really bored with my girlfriends I tell them I want to get drunk and smash glass bottles in the street. They smile with their lipstick teeth and talk about their college degrees. Usually I just **** myself. So I wake up with cracked lips and a hangover and I walk to get coffee or water or new shoes or something, and then I stop and I remember what weird things we said to each other last night. After we didn’t make love, we ******. After we ****** and we didn’t get married and the movie didn’t end or whatever, after that. It was really cold so we stayed in bed and you held your cell phone open waiting for your ex girlfriend to call and say oh I need you I need your **** oh please come back. She won’t ever call, I hope you realize. She won’t call like my ex won’t look me in the eye, like he will tug and grab and whisper in whatever ****’s ear at the bar when he sees me. He won’t call and I’ll ******* run like hell if he tries to say hello so I don’t slip and fall on the way his voice sounds. On the feelings of his breath on my shoulders in the morning and the way he says tomato or how he always said, oh you’re so wet right now after he just came in me and he wanted to have *** again. No, what? You just came inside me you ******* idiot. God I hated that. But I miss the smell of his tee shirts and his box cutter toenails scratching my legs while I fell asleep. And maybe how he said to me, everything happens for a reason. But I don’t know. So I’m laying there and you’re laying there and you’re unpeeling my stupid ugly naked skeleton body with your eyes in the dim light of your cell phone that has no messages. And you said to me, I remember it now, that you wanted to play my ribs like a piano. You pressed pressed pressed until I thought I would have bruises. Like I was your property. You *******. You wondered aloud in your dumb voice with your dumb thoughts how hard you would have to press for them to break. And now with my coffee half spilt on the sweater covering my bent up/almost broke up ribs, that coffee that will never make it to my horrible gross decomposing bleeding lips, I imagine if you had actually done it. I imagine the sound of the late night phone call to 911. When you would have to dial my mother and cry into the phone, I did it I did it. I finally broke her. And she would ask, who the **** is this? And say, don’t call here anymore. And roll over and go back to sleep. You could have watched the sunrise on the roof of my apartment with my ex and passed the half-empty whiskey bottle back and forth talking about my crooked teeth. Two boys and their broken doll. That’s the kind of ****** up weird **** we got into last night. And the man behind the counter wants to know if I need change.

I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.

Everyday come
                             Fill me
Reflect off of me, please
                             Days go by
                             Day after day
You used to worship me.
                             Worship my truth.
You came to me like a
                               sinner and
                               spilled all
of your secrets in
                                        me.
I reflect my truth faithfully
                                         back at you.
And you act
                      like i'm
*hell

he leaned back, like the rail was built just for him,
he had a crew cut, a scar on his chin, he was tall, slim,
his voice was like gravel, rolling in a can
he smoked from, once a boy, to now a man,

he offered his comforts and promises to the one who walked
beside, as there was a deal going down and whole promises talked,
younger man slowed his stride, not to leave his purchasing party
behind, his language was not descriptive, as it was blunt, smartly

he was not dressed, but he wanted money for the goods,
he asked the shorter man to wait there, right where he stood,
"Hand me the money and I will be back, right away,
or you can walk with me, over and back all the way",

the older, shorter man walk steady and slow, not very good
with english, but in a show of good faith, in this neighbourhood,
that was not his, he moving forward, a hand in his pocket,
he looked straight ahead no longer making eye contact,

curious stopping to watch them move toward some homes behind
the school park, the sun was setting it soon would be dark,  finding
his way once the deal was had, might be hard in low light, what if
it went bad, what if it was a set up, what if he got hurt, a scuffle, a tiff,

Buyer beware, there was a deal to be had,
The guy your in business with is angry and mad,
Buyer beware you may be in for trouble,
Your trust may be broken like a bubble,

At the point of a knife blade,
With pointed words of hate,
You look like karma, guides your fate,
Your voice was soft, your eyes kind, what was their bait?