When I met you, I never intended on dancing for so long.  Every year I’d think, “this is the last time I’ll ever see him”.  And I would get all weepy and teary-eyed as we sent the boats out for the last time, partially dismembered and covered in old, ***** tarp.  But sometimes, I swear, I swear, I’d feel some warped sense of

Relief.

Like I could finally send all my lust and desires off with you to another tomorrow, where I would not be.  Every year was your last year.  And every year I’d say, “this is the last time I’m ever gonna see you” and you’d say “don’t be ridiculous, we’re gonna see each other again.” And I, “How can you ever know for sure?” And you, “I just got a feeling”.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, it was much more poetic.  You’re much more poetic.  And I’d melt like play-doh in the sun when you’d look at me lazily with those sky, sky blue eyes. And wither at the thought of you leaving me forever, my sunshine warming my skin to reach and grow.

But then like the tide, you would always return.

And then it was back to those hot, hot summer days, sweating ***** and drug cocktails out of every pore imaginable.  And in this state, being expected to attend to all the ridiculous tourists looking for a boat ride around the Public Garden. Yeah, can’t say pedaling a two-ton boat full of gossipy annoying foreigners is easy.  But the work pays for my play, so it’s back to the old wooden dock once more.  To your irritable character staining the dock Fridays through Sundays, as if your unbearable hangovers were my fault somehow.  Bloodshot eyes behind those ridiculous J-Lo-esque bright green sunglasses you insisted on wearing.  That is, until they broke and fell into the swampy glittering water.  Which started another screaming match between us, ending in me pouring disgusting pond water into your open, snoring mouth.  Yeah, it was mean, but someone had to let you know that you were being an *******.  You threatened to throw me off the dock, you even pretended to try.  But when you wrapped your cinnamon arms around me, the last thing I had on my mind was fear.  

I can’t even count on my fingers and toes the number of fights we’ve had, the times I’ve made you desperately rip at your thick blonde hair to try and quench the fire I started deep in your belly.  The times you’ve called me weak and naïve, stupid, childlike, to which I’d say you looked like an angry leprechaun.  That one always hit you the hardest.  But when we’d be up in each others’ faces bellowing and screaming, the energy passing between us was of such crushing force I could almost feel myself being ripped toward you, like a magnet to metal.  I could feel myself becoming a part of you, or you a part of me, whether I liked it or not.  

Between the fights and the hangovers and the thick ****** tension hanging in the air like smog, there were the “good days”.  The Mondays, the Wednesdays, when the only thing tainting the air was the rich conversation shared between us.  Some days we would talk for hours on end, about anything that crossed our minds.  “What’s your favorite color?”, “You don’t really believe in the end of the world, do you?” and “How do you say ******* in Italian?”.  You’d laugh at my silliness and I would bask in your happiness, drink it in like sweet nectar from a flower covered in thorns.  And then your happiness would transform into my happiness, and I would skip all the way home singing.  And so continues this delicate dance we began so long ago.

Three years.

Three years.   The difference between you and I, and time past.  Time I’ve spent watching you so carefully as you strut down the dock, muscles contracting and relaxing in rhythm with each deliberate step.  I watch devoutly for the white of your teeth to greet the sun shining so brightly in the sky blue sky.  Sky blue eyes.  All mine, sometimes.  This time.  In my mind I am forever living in the moments we spent entwined together on the forest green bench at the end of the dock, soaking in the sunrays in a content exhaustion.  I am living with your arms around me, you teasing my hair with tired fingertips.  At night I can still see you swerving down Commonwealth Ave and nearly knocking me over with your drunken embrace, then simply placing your arm around my waist.  It fit so well on the small of my back.  The days when you would loop your arm through mine as we finally got out of work and we’d practically run out of the place, as if we were chasing the remaining day through downtown Boston.  I always, always go back to the times you’d put your face so close to mine, as if we were living on a single breath between us.  But I’d blush and shy away, embarrassed, ashamed for feeling anything at all.  

These days, I find it hard to decipher what is me and what is you.  It’s as if we have been dancing around each other for so long we have morphed into one body, moving and mesmerizing.  Our time together is coming to an end, and minutes that once ticked by so slowly race through my fingertips, sand falling through the hourglass in an endless stream.  Days fall off the calendar effortlessly in a final solemn countdown to graduation day.  Every morning is one more morning without you, another moment wasted with you so far away.  Every night is one more night swimming in my loneliness, choking on words I wish so badly to throw at you, so you can finally carry the crushing weight drowning me.  Soon I will go looking to dive into the pools of your eyes and you will not be there.  I know the day I walk on the dock alone is coming, too quickly.  And to rip apart from you now might destroy me.

So time continues, and I continue. To watch, to wait, to covet.  Three years and I’m still hanging on to nothing.  When will you leave me and never come back?

Why don’t you like me?

WHY?

You liked me before, you liked me soo much I could tell by the way you looked at me with this big puppy dog brown eyes, they almost looked wet, tearing, as if your love and affection was so full it was about to spill forth all over me.

But now you don’t look at me.  Well, you do but you don’t.  You look at me but you don’t see me, you don’t see the me you loved a few months ago.

Now your all coooooooool
Yeah?
What was that?
Whatever
Huh?
Whatsup?
I’m kind of busy
(But)
I gotta go
(B-)
I’ll talk to you later
(Oh)

But then you never do talk to me later.

What happened?  Did I change?

Am I not quite as pretty, not quite as thin, not quite as perfect as I was before?  Suddenly my nose looks a lot stranger and my stretch marks seem a lot uglier and my stomach seems a lot puffier and my ***** seem a lot smaller.  My eyes seem crooked and my smile seems forced and I suddenly don’t feel as lovely as I felt when you looked at me and saw me like you did before

Like someone swapped my mirror to show me a new me but the problem is I can’t tell which one is real.

I can’t see which one you see.  Or maybe

I just couldn’t be
The me
You see

Or saw, whatever. I’m not sure.  Did I fall from the pretty perfect pristine pedestal you perched me on top of so long ago?  

Or perhaps you grew bored of watching me way up THEEEEEEERE from way down here.  You watched my perfect porcelain smiling teeth collect dust like long forgotten picture frames holding memories of long gone friends, blending into the furniture.  So you left me to rust away with age and neglect until I eventually disappeared completely beneath the building grime of what could have been.

But WHY?

Is there someone else?  Someone more beautiful, more contemporary, more “new and now” and less “last year”.  Is she more intelligent, more poetic, more interesting with better stories better sentences better hip bones.  She’s less flashy less fleshy less feisty but still frisky.  She stands out but she isn’t loud, is polite but not shy and she always chews with her mouth closed.

I know I’m not being fair.

I could’ve been yours.  If I had decided to give you the time of day, a hand on your face or a kiss on your palm I would’ve in an instant been snatched into your loving tan muscley embrace, you would’ve given me all your attention had I ever mentioned that maybe I wanted it.  And even so for so long in your eyes I was yours and you held me so close to the soothing steady beat of love in your heart that for a second I thought that you were mine.  

But you never were, I never gave you those extra minutes on my clock, I never got past my fluttering upset unsure stomach to lean in to kiss that beating heart.  

And now you never will be.

At night I lay awake staring at the clock, cursing it, screaming at it, pounding it against the wall hoping that with sheer will I could somehow make it stop.  How could you let my precious moments and opportunities and letters I never sent sift right through my fingertips like sand, how could you let this happen? This. Time. How could you let us meet in such a way that on this linear plane we would only grow toward each other infinitivally but never actually touch, feel your nervous breath so close to my face but never taste it, only see you for a moment before you go right past me to a somewhere so far away from here.

It’s just not fair.

But it is fair, you were never mine to have.

And now suddenly my ears get hot whenever I think of you, my palms get sweaty when you smile at me, like I’m some pathetic love drunk hormonal 14-year-old girl desperately scribbling our names together in notebooks.  It’s embarrassing, it’s awful, it’s almost comedic.  Let’s make her want him as soon as he closes his door.  Like he had opened his home to me for so long and waited as I stood there unsure and unmoving for months until he decided I probably don’t want to come in, and its getting cold in the kitchen.  As the door slammed in my face I lifted up my hand like wait a second, I’m actually a little cold out here, and I liked watching you smile at me.

Do I really like you or am I just chasing a sunset because I’m afraid of a lonely night?

I want something I can hold
Something I can count on my bitten fingernails, taste on my chapped lips
I want something real,
Something I can smile wolfish grins about when I’m sagging and old.

I want something warm
Something that can thaw my chest that grows so, so cold.
And so, so alone.
I feel so alone.  All the time.

There’s a voice that whispers wants and pleas into my delusional head
A pleasure center rubbed raw one tiny pill at a time
It says that I Am Alone Forever, No One Loves Me, Nothing Matters,
Thick ropes of dark blue snaking around my tortured brain

I just want to make them stop.

So I do the only thing I know. Get HIIIIGH. SOOOOOO high.
And the voices, they shut the **** up.
For a brief beautiful moment in time,
I’m fixed.

But then my body screams and my thoughts panic at the weight of the influence crushing me
Bones and vital organs crumble as I bury my problems, one snort at a time.
I don’t know what will **** me first, the depression or the drugs.
But for now, I’m following my loneliness out the door.

words are mean
they dont even mean anything
and yet they assign meaning
whatever that means

they are supposed to describe feelings
but how can you feel a word?
(or how can you word a feel?)

but a flow of words can give you a certain feeling
a feeling so indescribable
like mutual understanding, no
like someone holding your hand, not quite
like, like....

I'm sorry, I can't seem to find the words

(I can't stop laughing)

Just a Psychedelic girl
And Nothings gonna change my world
Blue skies
Kaleidescope eyes
Tan thighs, time flies
Flies away, don’t exist
Colors dripping off my lips
Looking for one perfect kiss
Kiss the sky, flying high
Goodbye time, hello mind

Want and Need
The Difference Between
Under Hunger’s Spell
We Fell.

Who knew the sky tasted so Sour? Bitter?
Words can never describe, as soon as I feel my adjectives grasp

the flavor on the tip of my tongue, it dissolves, escapes into my body.
I think of ****'s sweeter psychedelic cousin invading my veins,

putting thumping jumping beats and tapping feet in my brain cells.

The frigid February air invites pleasant shivers all over my body

climbing up and up and up my spinal cord, driving me wild. Am I wild?
I feel beautiful, I feel perfect and I want the world to know.
People stare, I wave. They reply with expressions that make me 

practically roll on the floor laughing. Am I scaring you tonight?
My head is roaring, my skin feels hot and as I fall into a backseat

I think, I feel it. I feel so good, so good. What better way to go but Up?
So I rip open a baggie and pour another hit into eager lips.

We walk in, and we are It. We are what everyone wants to be,

living on a steady diet of rails, hits and clouds of smoke,
and
shot after shot after shot, hold the chaser. 

We are a hot mess of bones, skin, hips and teeth. 

And then the DJ drops the beat and we transform.

Mt. Mt. Mt. We move, one body flowing into another.

We dance hotter, closer, faster, smoother,

bodies rolling effortlessly, melting into one another,

a collection of spidery neurons lapping up every sensation joyously.

Bones moan, trapped in the ecstasy, and then

I'm dancing with you, I'm rolling with you, I'm feeling so fully with you.

My shirt clings to slick skin as my hips fit so perfectly into yours.

I feel the energy coursing between, swear I can even see it through all the

dazzling colored lights slicing through the air. And you must see it too,

because then your lips are on mine and we are clinging and kissing and 

eating each other's passion, tongue on tongue, licking the salt off

each other's faces. I'm drenched and my soul's inflamed and so completely turned on

and you ask me if I want another hit of molly. I say absolutely.



You take out a key and a bag of sparkly white powder, balance it so perfectly,

offer it to fervent sinuses, and I breathe it in graciously. I feel myself come to life.

You smile and you grab me, claim me, and then your hands are on me.

Hot, smooth, wet, I can feel my euphoria fill me and spill out of me, 

offer it to the world around me. And then we are together again, and you say

Show Her You Love Her. And I do. I press my lips against hers, open my mouth,

offer her the flawless exhilaration consuming my anatomy, and she accepts.

Then you join in, three persons lulling in this incredible feeling, 

tongues and bodies moving together, dissolving into each other, until 

it’s impossible to decipher where one begins and one ends. 

And the music is blaring and we're jumping and thrusting our hands to the ceiling,

thinking we could really touch the sky from all the way Up Here.  

I grab you, pull you in toward me, squeeze you, hard and you groan,

head falling off your body. You pick me up and spin me around and around, I laugh

and wrap my legs around your waist, ride you like a riptide, wave after wave of desire

moving my body, moving through my body, moving in my body. And then your lips

are pressed so close to my ear, teasing me with thin wisps of I Love You, I Want You,

Give Me All Of You Tonight. And I push against you, fall into you, and then


I Wake Up. Drained, wasted, spent, brain throbbing against my skull.

Sprawled in my bed, sweating out toxins that loved me so well the night before.

Betrayed, falling into depression, body aching inside and out, I shut my eyes,

try to concentrate on not throwing up, and I feel you. You're lying next to me,

and When Did You Get Here? What Did We Do? You smile and ask if I'm up for

round two. No, Get Out, Can't You See I'm Hurting? So you take out some sweet

California green and a piece, pack it tight. Light it up, rip it hard, offer me the bowl.

I do the same, feel a little better, but not. Not the same,

I still make you leave when it's kicked. Lying there, dropping lower and lower

as minutes tick by so slowly, I try to embrace the purple haze enveloping me.

But all I really want is some water and some ecstasy.