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thoughts pour
spill from their borders
swarm their predestined portion

"and I make them wait."

memory crawls my throat
makes itself known on my tongue
climbs into the labyrinth of my ears
bursts through the drum

and it is gone
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i want that tall grass field,
i want that summer shine, the drone of the cicadas,
i want it all. i want that all for me.
i need to stop ending up in the hospital.

she said, the next time you try to leave i wont call the police.
she said, the next time you walk out on me i wont bother finding you.

he lost it. he lost it and she told him so, he said he felt responsible. maybe you are. maybe i am. but i ended up in the hospital again and

the little ******* my bus watched me sobbing on a stretcher from her window.

this one boy i know still lights his squares in his hand, still thinks two cigarettes in a day is too many, doesn't quite yet know the constant throat-burn borne from all that puking, but he still knows that

flying too close to the sun will melt you like chewing gum.

i want that tall grass itch,
i want that on my bare feet.

a swelling pocket of fat
over and over
the tongue shifts left and right
some nervous gag
mottle
other cascade
where nobody says a thing

well what do you give?

an open palm
a sick stupid wreath

he was vile, laying there all pitiful-like with his arms spread. "what happened to you?" i asked. he never responded, just spasmed and bled from his mouth. after everything i sat beside him.

the dawn was breaking then, and the grass was cold and slick with dew and ****** fluids--this was before northwest indiana set her cattails on fire. he looked up at me, not pleadingly. his gaze was full of understanding. his hair was knotted and covered in silt.

"youre going to die." i said. "youre going to die if you lay here like that." i always had criticisms. he told me so.

he rose with all the power he had left in him and ****** violently, separating the skin on his back from his muscles. for a moment i forgot to be afraid of him. with one last twist and twitch his bones

sliced through his pallid skin like butter and he extended his wings.

and suddenly i understood.

i left him laying there, all pitiful-like with his wings spread, on the pure homegrown indiana land.

he died, just like i said he would, because no matter what i always have to be right, dont i? he told me so.

and so; here it is. i fuss like a ******* her wedding day, bustling, bursting with trepidation. i can see right through your skin and you look nothing like the pictures; rotten, rancid, revolting.
     i look in the mirror.
     im just like my father.
and so; here it is. i scrape the black out from under my eyes with my fingernail and flick it onto the floor. retribution! i say, i leave pieces of me everywhere! youll never forget this face!
     that face? the one you loathed so deeply?
and so; here it is. i find myself missing the warmer months again, pressing dandelions into the dirt, too high to speak. the air was easier to breathe in back then; less pressure, less dust.
     i was soft as butter and
     now i will be as hard as a stone.

id ask you if you knew how tragic you looked but you just turned away. i cant stand being rabid. my blood is toxic, volatile. no one can ever hurt me.

i stand my ground, pathetic and puffy-faced. i dont want to be fragile, i want to have control. i am disposable.

i dont know how to explain this to my mother. hate has hands like a vice.

i. they crack under the pressure, complaining of headaches and the like. i'm on the countertop, thawing like freezer-burned meat. you approach like youre ready to pounce; hesitant. i assure you that i wont bite, not with my words but with my blood and the pattern of my muscles. how can you not trust someone so exposed?

ii. i trace your veins with fragile fingers, stopping where they split and kissing the skin delta. i pay extra attention to your pericardial cavity and breathe in the scent. i imagine myself nestled in your organs, flush against your trembling heart and your ribcage.

I keep seeing the snow
on its sideways swing
pelting, impervious, against the ground

to escape human conclusion,
conviction

without fail
it's all the same to me
I pluck the fourth leaf, before it can wither

to be a willing participant to love
I don't know

I watch it thicken from the window
a wayward swarm of whiteflies
that building, bloodless blanket outside
I don't know
it never sticks

they made a hollow in your head
a place to die
over and again

all the impatience of the years
come close

where i will never find myself again
save in photos
and dead repeats