We were like broken skins
Tatter tales
Smithereens
Smashing perfect
Broken seams
Flashing splinters
Cut our lips
But we will never bleed

Hold my hand
In this instant
Sing me deep
A lullaby of finished dreams
Slit me in
We cut the sins we cannot clean
We do not sleep

In the stars
I see our rings
Half dust and broken links
Creator of broken things
Chalice of golden limbs
Promises released

You to keep
Locked away in a grid of greed
The darkness screams
Let her be
And I concede

You to lose
Everyday
I wish I hadn't seen
The way you looked at him
And not at me
We breathe
But never breed
We leave
We cut the sins we cannot clean
Until the red turns green

I called your number about a few minutes ago, and I left you a voicemail you'll never hear
Spoken words that'll never reach your ears
Listening to them wont change a thing so I said things I'll feel about you for awhile even though you won't care
My voice sounded weak, I was sitting on the ledge of trying to forget
Even though I'll never let myself go from that ledge, I'd sure want to
But these days, I can't even if I tried
Even if I suffered from a condition of forgetting things, I wouldn't be able to

Unsureness really gets to me I admit

Its 4:00 pm, and I have nothing much to say today. sorry.

Do you want to see
my collection of knives?
Jim asked
sure

I said
so he went
into his
ground floor flat

and I sat
on the grass
outside
his bedroom window

cleaning my
6 shooter gun
with my handkerchief
here

Jim said
have look
at this beauty
and he handed me

a narrow bladed knife
with an eagle
on the handle
and German script

on the blade
Meine Ehre Heisst Treue
what does that mean?
I asked

Dad said it means
my honour is loyalty
Jim said
I ran a finger

along the blade
it was still sharp
it's an SS knife
he said

I handed him
back the knife
and off he went
to get another

this one
had a curved blade
be careful
of the blade

Jim said
it's very sharp
I bet that's taken off
many a head

he said
sliding his thumb
under his throat
what kind

of knife is it?
I asked
it's a Gurkha
combat knife

he said
he took
that knife away
and brought back

a knife with
a knuckleduster handle
what the hell is this?
I said

taking the knife
into my hands
and turning it over
it's an Aussie

fighting knife
Jim said
could have
slit open a ***

he said
I tried not
to think of that
but looked

at the knuckleduster handle
and imagined
a man's hand
and fingers there

at one time
I handed Jim
back the knife
and he went

back inside
there were voices
coming
from Jim's room

and Jim's old man
came to the window
and said
don't tell no one

what you've seen Benny
Jim should
have known better
and backed off

into the room
I looked
at my 6 shooter
in my lap

Jim came
along the grass
back from the flat
sorry about that

he said
Dad has this thing
about knives
and such

he helped
open up
Belsen camp
and saw too much.

Ahh.
I believe
It is a sign
Of a healthy
  Relationship
    When the words
       She loves to hear
          The most no longer
           Are I Love You, but
           ****, girl. You crack me up!
                                 It means the love
                                  Can be taken for
                      As granted as it should.
Laughter
Never is.

I want to use smaller and simpler  
Words, until my poems are those of
Infants drawing stick figures
On gallery walls.

Haikus like commas;  
Periods of teeniest tiniest
Truths.

I name this
School of
Poetry
Crayon.

No
More
Nothing.

Me: All
This:

.