you forgot about me
so quickly
i'm starting to think
i was never there
at all
i've got all these
grungy little
rubber marks
on my
chest
tire tracks
on my legs
you were never there
at
all

i sat down

not quite close enough

to your body one seat over

i have no sanity left to lose

but our arms brushed past one another

and i lost something

years

full of bright days

and warm nights

gone

my words are darker than they once were

but you had my lips then

and i might easily give them back

because i know you ought to hate me

and when words fall short

people break

I have this inescapable question mark stamped right on my forehead.

of glaring honesty.

I feel that it is so obvious and etched into my being
that everyone I encounter can see it
and that I have to coat it with whipped cream and bubbles.

As if I am a children's Birthday party.





weeeeee.

bubbles.

**** it.

Split me op en,
In eve ry
mean ing.
It would be
just.
*please

A beggar bleats on the curb of the street,
raving and berating the government that has done wrong,
for their crime of losing sight, hanging God.

For once his bride,
who he held as a trinket in
the narrow crook of his arm,
had been swept away by the tide of law
and pulled out to sea
after treading so long while
bobbing and weaving
to avoid his left and right hooks.

Effaced, with myself removed from yesterday
I can think without unyielding pressures
******* my heels.

"It's always hardest the first time, the first day"
someone said. Maybe it's true?

I think repetition is getting to me,
so I must give liege to liberty.

come up to where i am
i've been there
i understand perfectly
it's a thinking man's movie
no mother of god
i'd be tied down to her schedule
it's a hassle
they would make it his cross
they could make up their minds if they knew the difference
8.47 and the clock's still thinking
i don't want to go looking for calvary's eden
it's like being evaporated
he knows what he wants to do
i understand what he wants to do
it's not a dead end
it's the same thing
you've got a lot
do you know how fast three days go by?
this is not my armageddon
this trot is very limiting
that doesn't sound right
that would be a complete, utter waste of time
hooves clotting beneath the sick steed
i just hate that sound!
what are you proving?
she's afraid you'll break in martyrdom and bag groceries
it's still familiar to me
what are you doing?
get over here and do it.
where's the chocolate?