The lamp in the washroom still out. Holes and wasps. I've seen owls at dusk and an eagle looked me in the eye. Got four hundred dollars wired to me wasted on motel six, smokes and rats. Stunk in interviews and talked about. Denied wants and tough taken orders. The lonely of the road.
(He grabbed her ******* the forearm and hid her insulin. Pushed her out of the bed and onto the sofa. Made bruises. Called her a ***** and a ****.)
The words refuse to stick on the page.
There's nothing to write tonight.
The words glide down paper. In streaks.
Slipped on my library card. Broke 2 nails. Neither suicidal nor homicidal. Sever punishments. Oratorical bits. Almost ******. Six doses of what keeps me sane. Get to know me. I hate doing dishes. Cowardice and shame. Yellow belly pythons sixteen feet long. Invisible boxes with mime and revelations. Pace cars; red blooded & blue crossed; tight and painted like a bird’s feathers.
Catapult the stars above my head due north. Blood lust buffet. Static. Open noses. Other concepts I don't understand. Visions all apple orchard green. The thing I said for no reason. The way I looked at you. The capsule of big friction. Explosions of red light. The water sends me back every time.
Next door is slick with sweat wet. Arid here. Flip manipulation. Force bendy like two magnets together. Sign in at registration. Ever too forward. My mind bleeds memory. Something about owls or captured butterflies. Maypole. Kicked-off boots. Split rivers and casual dreams. There was no comparison; nothing was gained from it.
Butterflies pinned still across your back. Slave narrative with sides of garden greens. Hibiscus. Hair of the dog. 45 minute wait. Purple bruises. A course on table etiquette from a reformed peacekeeper. Yellow sky. Ancestral rejection in the form of a practical joke. Rain. Spring worm smell.
— The End —