I got a knock on my door about a week after the break up.

"Can I come in?"
Honestly, I didn't know if she could.
"Where is she?"
"Her grandparents" she said, stepping inside.
It turns out ex-girlfriends are not like vampires,
They may, in fact, walk in uninvited.

"What have you been up to?" I ask,
As I close the door behind her.

"Work. You?"

"I had *** with a girl in Kennebunk"

"Oh, let me guess, nerdy with an irish face?"
She knew my type.

"No actually, Egyptian... I know, weird"

We walk up to the bedroom.
I try to hold her hand,
But she pulls away.

"I miss you."
"I miss you too," she says, "but it will make things harder,
You know that."

"Did you **** him yet?"
She doesn't look at me.

"So yes. When? How long did it take?"
"Nick, you don't need to know"

"I need to know, more than anything. When?"

"That night."
"The night I called you?"
She's quiet.

We decide that since we aren't together anymore,
It'd be a good idea to confess
All of the things we lied about over the years
So it'd be easier to hate each other.

We circle around the bed taking turns.
Getting angrier, and angrier.

"As soon as I walked in their door
His girlfriend stripped all my clothes off.
She didn't even let me say hello."

"Well you know that love song
I wrote for you?
It was actually for my ex girlfriend."

"He said I was great at riding him,
And when we were done,
We smoked a bowl and cuddled."

"You cuddled!?"

"Yes. Cuddled."

"I want, just.
To *******."

"Then do it."

I fade awake with her naked body draped over me
Like the world's most comfortable blanket.

This is the last time I get to feel this happy.
Like a dream.
Safe. Comfortable. Warm.

As I open my eyes,
I see the empty room.
Her things are already gone.
She is a foreign object in my bed.

Her once delicate touch turns
Hot coal and burns me.
I jump back and bury
My head in my hands.
The room starts spinning.
I don't love her, I'm not happy,
We aren't happy.
I hate her. I hate this room.
I hate myself.
I want everything to just go!
"Put your clothes on and just go!"

She is awake now.
She reaches for my phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Do you know my number?"
"I don't have it memorized."
"Good."
She hands me back my phone.
"If I need you, I'll call you."

She leaves.
Forever this time.
It turns out I was wrong.
Ex-girlfriends are exactly,
Like vampires.

The Tie is a bib for men.
For different sorts of messes.
No longer exclusively dribble and bile.
Yes, we may use them for mornings
after our red solo sippy cups
time machine us neanderthal.
But men also have other messes to bib tie.

Like:
friendly faces at work.
not friendly faces at work.
faces on ex's at work.
Ex's faces on not friendly faces and other various places at work.

Men bib tie their feelings.
Or at least that's the media stressed norm.
Men can also not bib tie their feelings
Or bib tie the wrong feelings.
bib tie love when it's wrong to feel it.
Bib tie love when it hurts to feel it.
Bib tie their opinions
when speaking to people who disagree
Bib tie the need to look, only...
Touch, just...
Grab, just
Have, just
Use, just....
Put it in the bib tie.
Stuff it right in there.
That's where all your messes go now.

At a funeral, men do not use their bib Tie as Hankie
They let their tears fall.
Bib ties are not tissues.
You do not simply wipe up your mess with a bib tie.

Put the pain inside it
At the end of the day
You take it off.

Put the used up bib tie in patchwork briefcase under bed.
Passed down by fathers.
Full of generations of used up bib ties.
Like ***** dream catchers.

Knotted hands and looped desire.
fastened snuggly into their folds.

If only more men wore Ties.

I let the old pain fester.
Like a wound that hasn't been cleaned out.
Take a swig from my whiskey bottle
turn my back to the nearest ***** man.
As he ***** me silent
I am porcelain.

Tonight, i'm prey
Let somebody make me uneasy
So that I may live in
Mismatch colored socks.
Mini skirts, yoga pants,

This man is ******* me numb.
Past life blackout
He Certainly won't retain any sort of name.
I pretend his fingertips are mine.
That his body is plastic.
walls like siliphane body bags
To hoist me from this whirlwind nightmare.
I should have said No.
instead I said just **** and **** me.
So It continued until I felt like being a corpse was a better alternative to my numbness.
Hoped for a burning.
Or a lynch in the knuckle bones of a crossdressed Reaper.
Won't dwell on tonight.
Put a smelly blanket over this new pain
Remember the familiar stuff.
It's older.
knows I want to forget.

A Close friend said "The Perfect Woman"
is much like a shark.

if I am greeted in this ocean,
by a woman
I will allow her to look at me with all primal intent.
splay my wrist open and watch her

as she smells the little turn of blood
floating now in spirals between us

I'll have done it not for the pain, or shock
but for the honesty.
to watch a creature struggling to hold onto their facade
and the tears that start to bloom in the pink
above their sharp teeth.
Look, I know sharks don't cry.
it's not about the crying,
I crave the visceral emotion.
want to give my body to the indulgence
the electric moment where
I feel them feel conflicted
with my whole body
feel their suffering and internal struggle
in my entire manic smile
tight cheeked
all eyes on them like a paid performer
or Alternatively,
I would give them all this passion,
my body in anticipation of their opening
clenching to their masks,
They Devour me.

I convinced a man he could prune his own ****.

That if he spliced it just so,
two little pink shafts would sprout in it's place.
Wriggle themselves growing into two separate fully functional phallus.
And I watched him.
As he reluctantly reached for the shears.
And went through the five stages of grieving.

"There's no way this will work.

******* for telling me this secret!

can't I just take a pill to grow a second **** without having to cut this one off?

I don't think I can live without it..."

but just think, I reminded him.
after you do this.
You're gonna have TWO *****.

"I'M GONNA HAVE TWO *****!"

TWO *****.

And with almost no other thought, reasoning or belief.

He closed the shears



He opened his eyes.

His flaccid privilege laying there.

"When does the growing start?"
He asked me, pained.
His big brown eyes swelling.

"It doesn't."

"WHAT?"

"I lied to you, it doesn't grow back."

"It doesn't grow back? Not even one?

"Not one, not two,
no **** for you. I lied."

"Lied?"

"Lied."

it was easy,
to convince him.
Just had to promise he'd have two times the power in the long run.
If he risked it all right now.

In your Sillouette,
Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain.
This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies.
I am lingering.

You are gilded beautiful
Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers
****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches
I am a foot protruding from your sculpture
In mustard.
I am that blot behind your Hip Bone

Cold Draft from the window
Opened Opposite the Magic curtain
A breath of ocean waves
Our bodies casting illusions
In ripples of Moonlit fabric
Dancing around our sillouette.

Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos
Silk screen thighs,
Underbust Corset

where the breeze whispered

where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones.
growing where we Calloused
In our Roughs
In our trenches
Rubbing Leather against Silk

You invested in our common interest.
A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling.
Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices.
Ownership,
And your body.

I love the Chips in your paint.
I hate the man who painted you.

infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism
Sick with a Spiderweb brain
Spinning from your imperfections.
You are so, perfect.

Artists come from all over
To watch the magic curtain.

Your Golden arching Back.
My Mustard Toes.

we all look at you,
even you look at you.
we do not Blink.
Just stare, position ourselves.
behind this curtain.

Our callouses grow like the black moss
bodies marble under ocean pressure
erode from the chill winds
Your archaic exhibitionism
Carved From Counting Gazes
Mustard eternally pondering
why our sillouettes, different colors
Drawn by the same moon,
Casted on the same cloth.

"Daddy?"
Yes, princess?
"Where do babies come from?"

Well Princess,
One day you'll see a cutie
And little glitters will tickle
From your chest to your toes
Days will go by holding hands
Giving Eskimo kisses
Passing ******* underneath
Family Thanksgiving tables

Until waking up with the cutie
Is the most stable part of your day.
Safe, like together in this bed
You two are a fortress,
Free, like you could run into the street
And he would stop traffic by breathing
To protect you

You'll sit across from him one night
Blushing over your dinner
Stir fry of everything you pointed at In the grocery store.
And through all that blush you'll ask
If he will be your daddy.

He will stand.
Cross the room
Kneel by you
Take your hand
When he smiles into you
Little glitters will tickle
From your chest to your toes

When he says: "Yes, Princess"
That's how babies are born.

imagine a big dragon
Are you doing it?

"ye"

what color is it?

"b-blue and yellow"

Blue and yellow. Cute! Isss it big as godzilla?

"no, it's smaller
likee the size of a horse"

Dats a smol dragon
I like him.

"its not smallllllllllll
a smol dragon would be like, a neck dragon
hes big, just not hugeeeeeee"

Ohhhh okay. He's a big dragon, but not huge.
His teeth are like little point pearls
do you see how shiny they are?
and pink

"why are his teeth pink"

They are pearls.

"but pearls are white"

then his toofers are white.

"gooood
good hygeine"

Mhmm
One of those pearls in his dragon maw
his little baby toofeers
thats you

"why?"

because than you can fly with him everywhere.
Just imagine looking down through his mouth at the cityyy
as he flyyyys
and sitting all nestled in his lip
Blue and yellow leather
He could sing you storiessss and brushes his toofers so his breath would be warm but not stinky

"gooooooooooooooooooood!
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwhhhh­hhhhh :3"

"My small tenant" He says to you.
as you crawl out of his gum and walk out onto his tongue.

What is your dragon houses name?

"his name is roxy"

He's making a very silly face, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes to talk to you
he sounds silly too
talking with his tongue out
"Welcome Home. "

"i loveeeeee"

Roxy the Blue and yellow Horse sized Dragon House.
"Ready to slide?"
he asks you

"alwayyyyyyyyyyys"

he swallows you
it's very slippery and fun!
like a water slide
And is warm, but not smelly becaus he brushes his teeth
you fly over muscles and liquids and tongue and land on a biiiig trampoline
You can hear Roxy from all around you, quite loud "Having fun, my tennant?"
You are the small size, or a dragons tooth.

"good :3"

"uh oh!" He cries
you see fire from his back
it's zooming towards you!

"nooooooooooo run awaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy"

You run up towards his tongue and trip into the sticky icky
The fire is warm and tingles oup your back
then is over
and you standup, the back of your clothes all burnt off and your front all sticky icky
"I'm sorry, tennant"
"I sneezed"

"its oki roxy."

Roxy fashions their tongue like a staircase for you to come back outside

"daddy? Im sleepy... Can we finish the story tomorrow night?"

me too Babygurl. ^^
Yes we can

"yay!!!!!!!"

Good night

"ninighht daddy. sleeeepppppp well.
i love you"

I love you too baby girl ^^
Sweet dreams.

You curl up in roxys empty tooth spot, he covers you in his blanket tongue. it is warm. but not stinky. and you drift soft to sleep
"Good night, Tenant"
"I love you"

"i love you ttooo roxy."

30/30 "Day 6" 4/6/2017

Muse

Blankly observing from the doorway
Me on your mattress while you were gone
I wake from my 9 to 4 Rest after third shift
To your stare
Sunken into the doorframe
A limp contrapasto
This is the first time you have shown me
Honesty

You are not eager nor professional
Manipulative, nor Passionate.
Simply Home.
You are home

I've never seen anything more beautiful
set to the frequency of a good book
After years of us swapping stories
Shooting fireworks at comic book panels
Lighting each other on fire when we aren't
Quite sober of heart

When we speak in streetlight colors
or profanity
Artists after midnight
You were never comfortable

Tonight you shed all mask
Facade
No intention, depression, expression
You were done today with social interaction
I've written you into a thousand novellas
Without ever looking you in the eyes.
I saw you today, Muse.

Honesty draped limp in contraposto
Hanging limbo until I left silently manic
Smirking out the front door for you
So you could live vouyerless for awhile.
Nose in a good book
Heart stirring tornados in my chest again
Like I was blinded by future ambition.
You told me you found out
what you wanna do with your life.

you told me today,
you know how to stay alive.

4/8/2017

Monogamous Cat

Today I met a monogamous cat.
I was twirling the keys to my Black Saturn
Sauntering from my Clients home After making him breakfast
And In the wide paved road
sat a fluffy orange cat with a pink collar.
Staring at me.

I put my keys away and knelt down in the middle of the road.
My red converse cracking a bit As I bend down to present my hand.
The cat came over when I called
Sniffed and let me pet her on the head, neck, and back
Nuzzled into my Khaki pants
I took this as a sign of friendship
naturally,
I went to rub this cats belly

oh, boy,
was that the wrong move.

The messege was clear.
I was not this kitty's owner,
And she was having none of my ****.

She left my hand,
more blood than skin

I pet her on the head
one last time to let her know
We could still be friends.

I shouldn't have been so forward.

But how am I supposed to know
a species notorious for hedonism
produced a monogamous cat?

I am greatful she knows her boundaries
that she is comfortable
cutting a man
When he crosses them.

You say you have
Glitter butterflies
Tinglies in there
Oh, you've evicted the butterflies princess
Those are storms coming
This is the eye of it
Wait till your captain steers the ship
Towards that looming dark cloud
You will beg me for butterflies little bug
You would beg for a swarm of bees
In exchange
for the beating you've earned

From me
then your captain

4/17/17

You ever wanna lick a lollipop?
You ever wanna take turns licking the lollipop
With your loved one?
You ever wanna lick the lollipop at the same time
But your loved one shoves
the whole lollipop
stick and all
Down their throat
Swallows it
Asphixiates on the mere Concept
Of ever having licked the lollipop in the first place
Let alone the reality that you
You, the love of their life,
They, the victim of ultimatum
Have both licked the lollipop?
.
.
.
Have
You ever been the lollipop?

Beating you isn't like
beaters in a cakemixer, my love.
You can't cover a cake
in moans and whimpers.
No matter how much frosting we lick up,
No matter how hot we make the room.
We still can't bake a cake with our bodies.
We don't have the right ingredients.
We need eggs
flour
salt and milk and
Actually I guess you do have most of those things
All we really need is flour.
Hold on,
I'll go buy some flour.
We can pour it all over ourselves
and bake a cake.