there was the three of us
me, pauley, and pete

you
could always see us
smoking cigs
down the street

we were
the baker street boys
we had hearts
of engines, and smelled of factories

i didnt eat
much that winter

and neither did my boys

every breath we breathed
was a cloudy gray
even in the summers
haze, we were mean
cause we had to be,
never knew
better days

still lighting up
mama's face

so if
you
have a question
if you have a point, i suggest you get to it.

because life is short like
me and my boys

and i
aint got time
to be
wasting it
on this
colour
learning about
the classics,
past, and poetry

it's 4:30 am,
time to deliver.

I wanted to write you a poem,
but there were no words for: "You."

And even if i could pen a thousand down,
it still be inaccurate,

Like studying the beauty of the butterflies in my stomach
after they’ve been pinned to slides.

You are something Mystical, something Fluttering,
something Alive.

Perpetual Explosions:
more golden than the sunlight,


and there are no words for: "You."

we are ascending,
like birds who pray.

losing cabin
pressure,

when pressed,
against the floor.

dropping oxygen masks,
from the ceiling.

ripping off buttons
from the doors.

regulated
breathing.

my stomach,
turbulent.

from either
gravity or grace,

clouds of blue,
and skies of grey.

falling, falling,
always ******* falling:

though i’m still not sure
what this means to me.

the maryland girls
sit with half eaten smiles
speak sideways
half truths
casting lines out into the Chesapeake
where men jump
at shiny elusive things
hook in lip
blood in mouth
worms writhing on their tongues
pulled to shore
uncomfortable
choking on oxygen
pretty eyes eclipsing sun
measuring by skeptical scales
a good heart for loving
strong lungs for screaming her name
soft hands to chase her hair from her face
hook from mouth
worm swimming down throat
pulled to feet
she kissed me
[swallowed it]
pressed for just a few seconds
[but shes still kissing me to this very day]
she whispers to go
but i so desperately want to stay
fish out of sea
she'll agree that i taste nice
but through seemingly faked sorrow
she'll admit she has lost her appetite
knife in chest
gutted head to toe
tossed back into
the frozen mouth of the Chesepeake
and i will be swallowed
we'll all be
and when i come floating down to Baltimore
They wont find much of me
like the Tomb i will be found empty
but since there are no places in heaven for fish
i simply will cease to exist

maryland girls
sit with half eaten smiles
waiting to devour
dreaming to digest
stupid
floundering
gullible
fish.

somewhere, in the gold echoing fields
the wind turns through wheat, removes its hat and bows
the barking, howling speech
dares the moon to lower its neck
'hum a tune, then lose your head'
oh the peaceful inches of the evening
where the sun and moon meet
like gentlemen dueling on Swiss Street
who will not return, cracked like autumn leafs
and twigs you walked over
in the middle, where its still
your eyes open while mine spill
you gulp, choke, but swallow
this is my sadness
brushed on me, i am bruised like a canvas
a child in a suit posing as Miklós
but not as handsome, and still not as verbose
and when my vessel shipwrecks on the shallows of the eastern coast
will you pick me out like a chrysanthemum among the dead?
will your lungs burst in silence when you check my pulse,
then my pocket?

and how fares
myself? in between
the ticking tocks?

the clinking,
inched signs of riots
numbered on clocks?

well,

i thought
You

would
never ask

i spend most of my moments
building shacks

peeling boards out from trees

same parts,
for a different body

animals and i, all crawling
inside, on all fours

the foxes pace, while i wait
out the storm

from my window frame
a west wind whispered warm

the clouds,
admitted the forms change
but that the vaporous nature of it, stays

between my fingers
combing the tangled apparitions free

begging ghosts and gods
for this hollow solitude

in the distance the cities
dismal lights brood

the night is overlooked
and still refused

the stars left holes in their place
that fill in blue when i wake

a dreaming question,
in sunlight, evaporates,

suffused:

is this house a home
or simply
an altered state

reused?

Goodbye, Earth:

I have felt every grain of soil
That was meant for Me,

My feet are coarse
From persisting friction.

I love you,
But I need Space

I need to cling to other Sovereign Suns,
To slip into dark pits of singularity,

Where I am one again
with You who are Many.

And every ring
orbits in place,

and every circle
will be retraced,

to where Lagrangian Points,
suspended and sustained,

watching a year spin down the toilet
of our shallow galaxy.

Oh yes, my friend,
We are the Stain.

And the Universe
is flushing us out.