50
missed calls
all in
a
line
51...52..53..
wait there's more.

Glued in a sea of honey,
like a sugar thirsty fly
trapped and floating
throughout the negative
space our excess
of energy creates.

our bedrooms are damp
from the leaks
and the cracks
in the walls
in the pipes
in the roof
in our hearts
in our minds
in our smiles
in our tears.

I wish I could throw up my heart right now,
To relieve my mind of its sickness-
to wake up in the mornings
and feel the sun and not speculate on how it feels
colder and colder each day.
And at night I could fall into an automatic sleep,
Instead of writing out all these ******
stories.

the little kids with their candy
cigarettes
drawing chalk pictures in the
street
Rows of houses all looking
clean and neat.
closed latches, dark windows,
no laughter from behind the
bushes
and the neighbors usher
in the hoses to wash
the chalk
away

sunday bled down my legs
my petals bloomed
your bitten lips
and the smirks between my thighs
a burning kiss
the bathtub water turned murky
a  basin of sin
cutting up ******* lines
perfect symmetry
****** apartments with molded
carpets
kids with their hair bleached
love disillusions the mind  
   to me that's scarier
than a needle
puncturing veins
and
the long twist of train tracks
on lonely purple nights,
winter bitten cheeks

Diamonds do not shine bright
like Rhianna claims
Instead they glow red
with the blood of the victims
sacrificed
for wedding rings
Because what's a life compared to big
expensive rocks, right?

standing on the love-lock bridge in paris
i felt the hope secured in each metal contraption
thousands upon thousands
every link of fence occupied
sharpie and custom prints
revealing the names of lovers,
dates
some present, some new
a timeline of love
efforts to have
some minute, impossible
control over fate
thinking lifeless objects
and cast away keys
will keep people together

you screamed into the highway
tunnel
streets lined
with cracked glass
and broken people
without homes
said you wanted the dark
filled shame
in unwashed sheets-type-days
with dingy motel rooms
and coin laundry.
i don't want
the clean clipped sunday school
smiles
and the sunshine should be
a cold,
phosphorescent,
so i know
that i'm not
being lied to.

adolescence fit him like
hand me down sweaters
with missing buttons
he was always meant
to not fit
into it.
he watched
her graceless fingers
lace up the battered boots
that rose past her calves.
his eyes hugged the curves
her legs like snaking highways
in hot arizona summers
heat lightening
in his heart.
they all knew the sweaters wouldn't fit.
maybe he knew it too.
because the taste of her was
like holy water
and the child he never knew

Linoleum lined cheeks
steely eyes glinting
with harsh determination.
we dwindle in the stony
silence
apart from industry
and nature's
comforting presence.

im a part of that
drug cult
classic
wine and dine
*** on the first date
*** for the first time
evaporated belief
at this point in my life
i see things differently
than through the eyes of my mother
and i don't know how
this should feel.
holding back or holding in
foreign concepts,
liberal party platform stands.
sorry but i didn't vote

my room holds your scent
like it's another being,
forming hands and lips
winking at me from under warm bed sheets
it whispers your name
a desire i've always known
but couldn't put words to it.
an unspoken holiness
,your name,
and i find my fingers steepling together
to kneel in prayer,
thank you for leaving
and always coming back
to give your smell
/ a body /
and a mouth.

brown blotches
feathers in no way
glossy
unnoticed
and
dull.
small fragile
bones.
a sister of
depression,
people will always pass over thee.
of course when there's
creatures like cardinals
with
flaming red bodies.

but eyes cannot tell all
for ears that open too
can never mistaken
the ever sweet
tune of the
bird
almost always
forgotten;
but not quite.

head split apart
erupting galaxies
cheshire smiles
hanging within
a bubbling atmosphere
too bent and deformed
to house life
but dead beating hearts.
stuck inside a beehive
with stinging ringing
rubbed raw skin.
a yellow
fever
running rampant.

tulips waltzing in wonderland
wind chimes singing the hour

we are but ghosts
observing the memories
captured by photographs
held in twig fashioned frames

fingers like the branches of trees
when the seasons are in between
and its cold
but you know warmth will smile down
opening the timid flower buds
chasing the blue dusted dawn
with plenty of tomorrows
to be held up
towards the morning
sun

antique grit
he screamed at her in the passenger
seat
slammed the doors
four wheel drive
four fist punches
floral bruises
blooming on skin
color like milk bottles when they're shaken
in white gloved hands,
buttons on wrists.
church pamphlets
printed with jesus love
the man in the jeep screamed
through his lungs
and religion was scheduled on his sundays;
but today wasn't holy
  and abuse looked nice on her oil painted skin

the blinds hang heavy
transforming the room into a
baroque style painting
intense lights, intense darks
and your features hard.
you're angry at me because i didn't stay the night.
you're angry at me because it was 3 in the morning
and i wanted some place else to go.
i carry my heels as i walk into the
local truck stop
big burly men fat like flies
reek and stand in line with doritos.
i want to hear your voice crackle
over the pay phone.
listen to your static lecture
and i'll tell you i cut open my feet on
some rocks
and you'll hang up,
and that would be
my last quarter.

paint with blood
upon the earth
tie my lungs into ribbons.
i am only happy when i'm
dying.
when depression slits my wrists

you saw her draped in scarves
so bold,
flapping around her supple figure,
you got glances in-between
of velvet skin,
soft freckles
flitting,
a bird of paradise
is what she is.
exotic
and
free
but you saw her hips
sway
and you thought of closing
your hands
over bone;
of pulling her down
underneath
your groin.
not
a
person at all
she seemed
to you
but
a body
meant to pleasure you.

Beat.
Numb.

Limply still.

Look at what you've done.
A spirit;
broken.

So when you feel sad
you take a hit,
a puff of sweet acrid wind
to blow you away
across the dark expanse of the day.

You leave me deep in the shadows
while you float above it all
like a blimp
sailing over industrial grime.

What escapes me
is simply this:
you have me,
you have my hand
and I have wings
that can carry us both
because i don't need
medication.

I have something more
potent than that.
Even when I forget;
it's still there.
The hope that blinds
my pupils
like an
Aztec sun.

Come back down
and we'll run bare foot
across this town,
but i can't race someone
that isn't here.

the crack in the door
held the spectral light
a mosaic ghost
inside a misty turret
and the room is pregnant with your song
your words carrying me over golden
rooftops and
michelangelo skies.

uncomfortable in skin
repulsed by mirror images
fragmented, yellow face
white paste to hide the decay
slit the belly open
and watch everything
hang open

i am cracked ribs when it's
raining and the road
is slick
with car oil-
car crashes.
stinking rubble,
the bottle of oxycontin
that rests by your bed,
cold dead feet motionless in the morgue.
i am the graceless stroke of a violin
in unpracticed hands,
the rip rip ripping of a dress
torn off,
the chill in winter breath.
you are the sun that found me
fixable,
not hopeless
or yellow addiction.
you were the cast that healed my broken
bones
piecing back together my
fragmented whole.

You hold the universe
inside your eyes
Constellations dancing
around the solar system
hearts beating
pinpricks of light
faster than sound waves
carried quietly
through tunnels of
asteroids
drifting hunks of feelings
we've forgotten
Stranded in space
between the wrinkles of time
This fabric of your love
unfolds in ripples
Showering our heads in meteorite
dust
But how we glimmer
defying gravity
we'll meet again
along the northern lights
when the wind kicks in
our cheeks still sun-kissed
Bodies shattering,
arms and legs
pave the milky way,
Explore with me my love,
ride the tails of comets
into the horizons
that exist
only for us

she had sad eyes
misted gray clouds
stormed about
upon her forehead
creating creases
like a restless sea.
her smile
(if only she would)
could hold the shining beauty
of a string of pearls
resting gently
on white collar bones;
but only a thicket of
gray
shrouds her features
and likely
eyes shall
pass her
without any hesitation

he liked how she wore rain boots in the summer
and wished to build her home in the marshes
where she could sing with the toads
and play a cattail harp, reed symphony.
she kept a journal
she would draw rain clouds
and snow,
he'd watch her fingers loop around the pencil,
brow wrinkled with concentrated focus.
i guess he loved her.
as much as anybody could.
loved the bottlecap eyes
and wide mouth full of crooked teeth,
cause when she smiled
his heart went crooked too
and she was the type of girl
who he could visit museums with
and they'd both stare at
the same painting
and think something quite
different.

i see the matchbox girl
dressed in rags
skin transparent
veins so blue
and you're curled
unceremoniously
between heavy linens

cloudy blankets give warmth
when the outside world
screams
and rain falls like
domestic violence
and inside it's all
tea and blueberry
muffins baking
slowly
likethelove
in my guts.
i was confused that it wasn't a burst;
something violent
like the stomach flu
(that made me think
it wasn't really you
who i should count the
seconds with)
but you've patted soil
around my ankles
and i'm growing in your shade
blooming love
that has roots
instead of
momentary
drunkenness

days like these
i feel comatose.
a sleeping beauty
in a coffin.

a death of eternity
..not new
or waking,
a floating enigma
defying                 logistics
      a tiny winter scene
trapped inside a snowglobe

never changing
cold and wet
                          yes wet like her lips
as she strikes a damp match
didn't you know, it won't catch

      warmth is gone from this place
the dark                                      dragging days
snatching
the light
from lidless           eyes.

body
is an ecosystem
of nebulas
between my legs
a blooming
garden
ravaged by
apocalyptic hands
red forests
bleeding trees
fill the voids
with a looping of deaths.
rebirth and creation.
a body
felt
in every crevice;
a blanket
heaving
with breath.

sunlight reflected in broken
jagged fragments
on the wings of an aeroplane flying north
deep in the valley of organs and
warm trickling blood.
she haunts my thoughts as a distant terror
a threat to the happiness
weaved between weathered fingers
she'll take him away
take away
with the fluctuations of her voice
cutting raw wounds in the back of
my throat.
//calmly wait
passion resonates with a sticky wet
presence
clinging wet clothes to curves.
he sees my thighs
with appraising eyes.
you must belong to me::
to my sacred heart beats--
no thoughts of california and the wreckage
she should bring

I give away poems like
I give away my virtues
Little children's laughter
makes my heart grow sick-
I'm reminded of my rusted innocence
When God shielded me
from the evils
of self-inflicted corruption
From dark, shady street corners,
and boys with blue eyes.
From false declarations
and
Empty, numb thighs.

laughing
touching sun rays
with bare feet
bare promises
with no spine
crushed and dragging
leaving a trail of scarlet
dying beautifully,
if you look at me
i'll die beautifully.

sad sad empty
broken
cracked
decaying
your heart
your fingers claw
for a
morsel
of my flesh.

i ran away away
from the big bad wolf
but you huff
and you huff
and puff
...
and
i am still running away

hell, i know i'm a pain in the ***
i get angry just at the sight of a cracked glass;
because i don't like things that are inconvenient
and i don't like when you hide your feelings.
i become a dam with some poor fool's
finger shoved into the hole, while i continue
to fill with watery rage, until
flimsy fleshy fingers
stand no chance against
the current that is my fire
and i knock the silly fool
straight off his feet, and the streams rush, unhinged
right, bullseye,
into you.

i'd like to get drunk
off of sweet nectarine
and make love to the sound of pattering
rooftop rain
reciting declarations written on
cafe napkins, bits of dreams birthed
from hazy afternoons
sunlight the kind that sends you into
a tantalizing dance, fleetwood mac humming
from the phono graph
a scratch along the window screen
from the neighborhood tabby
naked beneath your sweater
collecting lint
to be plucked,
absentmindedly away
as kisses collect
scorching the hands
that dared to pull
the crust of the earth

everything about you is a poem,
and i'll never quit writing it.
from your raven gloss hair,
to your eyes that hold the colors of forest trees,
with their heads dipped in a halo of warm, golden sunlight.
your skin is winter,
****** snow, and your lips are a timid cherry blossom blooming
to meet mine,
and i'll part them gently;
wrapping ourselves in an eternity of spring,
new beginnings and awakenings.

shadow heart
shadow skin
i flit between this life
and that.
invisibility finds it's way to me
to kidnap my confidence
what was that?
oh,
only my voice
lost
to the wind.

**** format
i'll place my words

wherever
                              i
want




         how           ever   i want

and if you    disapprove
                                       go read




Shakespeare.

the night has slipped from the tips of my fingers,
finding solace in bottomless sweaters
sleeves that swallow hands
and mouths that swallow
bourbon brooks
trickling through a loss of consciousness.
i yearn on winter bones for the loss of knowledge;
a slow mind,
and sweaty delirium.
i want to watch my finger nails go purple
from malnutrition, seeping into the cracks of an old house-
to become an eighteenth century ghost
and i'd measure my heart breaks in dust.
when the world falls away;
and it falls away often-
i find solace in thinking that nothing can amount to nothing
and one day you all will be as i am.

a thin willow wisp,
a frayed cardigan
  a story that was once told and lost through years of
the telephone game;
while the rich culture faded with every new tongue

i wrote a poem in a bathroom stall
somewhere in a city
where i fell in love
between inked skin and
glasses of amber liquid.
a band i've never heard of was playing
in the basement and i was
wishing on prolonged goodbyes,
only to surrender to
technicolor street signs
and
broken nights of
what could have been.

you are all i know of pain
when your absence hit me so bitterly,
it carved out numerous tunnels and caverns
in my anatomy,
   unfamiliar territory to me.
alone,
i had to map out these unexplored caves,
knowing every inch, every rock
of my sadness,
of my beautiful, and dark
emotions that have given me a soul
completed with dimensions,
i am a being with layers;
thanks to your winter chilled departure.

i want to crawl into your bed
while it's still blue outside
and the sun has cold feet
because morning hasn't broken
and your body could curl around mine
like a scarf in the winter

The bitter black coffee slides down my throat
I wince at the taste and the headache
as a result of last night

Oh but this is what I live for.
the excitement of forgetting

Of becoming someone else.
A carefree girl
who never passes up a dare,
who tips the bottle back
taking on the burn
without a swig of anything else to make
it go down easy.

Cause' the thing is,
I won't go down easy,
i can't.
I want rules so i can defy them

I want those crazy nights
filled with adrenaline
and legs sprawled on moonlit grass

Not the normal lull
of a life planned out,
sitting patiently on a grocery shelf
ready to be taken home for dinner
to feed the kids and the greetings of the
"honey, I'm home" 's
followed by an empty kiss.

No, not me.
First, I'll paint my body
blue and black
because i welcome the bruises.
I'll burn out long before
you can catch me with an
apron tied around my waist
and a platter full of fresh, hot cakes.

the light drips through my window
a solemn moment wrapped
snuggly about me.
alone
as a desert cactus
cradled in the losses of failed efforts.
i do try, you know
but alas here i am
alone

yawning through the
delirium of misted
mountains
ridged in incandescent
footprints
skeletal bodies
swaying with the swamp
reeds
playing the haunting melody
of history
torn from
the bibles
of non-believers

"****** *****
you're a ****** *****"
i still hear your words in my head.
i sleep with my hands wrapped
around my wrists;
memories throbbing.
even though he kisses
my pain away
your ghosted horror
still agonizes
the deeper conscious
of mottled brain.