I spike my Koolaid,
with *****,
and pour in
too many blue packets
until it is black and icy
and whales of clotted powder
bob at the surface.

I am trying to close this gap;

trying to bridge this form,
and break your reflection
hovering at my hips.

But
in weeks
or just a few days
I have lost you.

The carcasses float to the bottom.

I get drunk
and fall asleep
to a singing blue tv
calling me to the deeps.

Your eyes flower
out of the black
into the dark blue
and ice
petals.

I climb the rough stem,
cutting my palms
and bleeding from my cuticles,
just to say to you
that you are beautiful
up there
in the night.

'Night babe
are what my lips
say to your eyelashes.

'Night babe of the black womb,
tiny body,
and hair like hydrogen fusion,
I hope that I have not said anything
that will make you blot your eyes
and stifle your lips
and enlightenment
from me
forever.

I hate
that your peach lips
are still
peach;
all that glitter
still to
eminent on your skin
both before and after
I laid you down
and played in the cosmos
of your belly button.

Stop calling me at night.

Can you hear me?

Stop calling
and reminding me
of the wilting fronds of flesh
on your lips
and the groves of light
on your abdomen
still too
fresh to me.

I have begun to say your name
too much
with
too little
to bare.

i will never bend in such a way that will disturb
the perfect equality that i strive for
but never fully achieve

i will forever place the quenches of my own comfort
above any annoyance that prods my soul,
and remain as welcoming as a rusty hammer

i will never blink at the innocent eye
of any woman until i snake my way in and out
of every hell burnt curve of her vulnerable body

i will forever spend eternity
twisting down the long black hole of existence
reaching out into the breathless air
hoping to catch enough
to exhale the final breath of my cowardly life

i will always be

*lost

another tear dropped
another lesson learned
never trust a girl with a cigarette burn
never trust a girl with the summer time stare
leave her to the wind to get blown somewhere

i gave her too much time
and thought i was being patient
i drew myself a line
but i made my self erase it

but the worst part of it all
is that it is yet to unfold
but i have a good idea
of what the future holds

believe me when i say
that there will come a day
that every lovers soul
will let her get away

Like a doe
So wild and free
How could  this be so?
Wanting you to catch me.

Dew drops fall to the ground
As I canter through
All without a sound
While I hear the thud of your shoe

The leaves rustle and crunch
Although you cant hear me
You're following your hunch
While i'm wild and free.

You want to catch me
But you know you can't
Can you see me?
But I know you shant.

Like a doe
So wild and free
How could this be so?
Wanting you to catch me.

I flick the lighter on and off nervously.
The scratching echolalia is deafening in the stillness.
Flick. Hiss. Flick. Hiss.
The metal cap feels like the only heat for a great radius in space and time.
The cracks in the gravel under my feet hold salvation.
Moonlight drowns visible heaven and thinly covers the ground.
Wet and silvery, it will freeze my blood.
In the far distance, a soft rushing sounds.
A glow rises behind a hill in the road, and headlights pop over the summit.
My pulse picks up, I tread backwards, thumb extended.
Tires slow, crackling.
"Where to?"

I have a streak of suicide
                                  Wait you like me better When i speak in lies
                                                     So i won't die
                                                                ­       I'll live my life
                               A reason to be isn't beyond me
                                                              ­  I will stay awake even as i wish to dream
                        I won't give anymore silent screams
                                                         ­                  Give me no reason to stay
                                                           I'll be here waiting for my final days to end naturally

His hair grew as coagulated blood
His scalp perpetually trying to reach his eyebrows
Skin greased and calloused
His eyes soulless
Yet seemed searching
Everybody was not afraid of him.

I gave him food once
I placed it on the ground where
He stood outside the church’s door
He barely moved
He slowly stooped
It was like watching a snail’s body melt
when you put salt on it
I wonder if he has ever uttered a word in his life
Of course I never expected him to say thanks
He was still slowly bending but I knew he
Wouldn’t get it unless I was not in sight.
But I desired to see him get it
I wanted to see if his face would ever change a bit
So I just went away thinking I starved him with my presence
I went back after a moment
The container lay on the floor, no chicken bones.
His eyebrows twitched no more
But the eyes were looking…somewhere.
Somehow.

I was baffled, have always been.
How is he supposed to live?
I can’t always give him food.
The priests might be busy too.
The altar boys might have been annoyed by his stench
So they would not get near either.
My house’s far from the church.
That wounded man would just keep staring at him from up the cross.
I wonder if the ***** ever asked the man to come down from his cross
And give him something to eat.

Or did he ever contemplate on bringing him down?