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bobby burns May 2013
-
"blame it on the tetons"
has become my anthem
for all the nights
i need to discard
into my laundry basket
for a fresh start
in the morning.
-
bobby burns May 2013
i've started marking my cigarettes
before i tuck them into my brown bag lunch,
with the names of all those whom i've loved,
to remind me that loving them [was     ]
                                                                      (is) better
than writing a carcinogenic suicide note
every day to replace the peanut butter and jelly
                                           on my sourdough.
bobby burns May 2013
she was the first
to act as though
she wanted to be my beretta,
to hold a holster to my thigh
and accept the badge
of partner in crime.

she spoke without shelter.

pool days of marination
in monsters and taurus,
a kiss for pity
as i'd yet to be corrupted,
and she stole some joy
in taking what wasn't hers.

she was bigger than me.

she showed me
how shattered touch screens
can look like dried petals,
but cut like cold *******,
and when you're in a field of dandelions
how they come in handy.

she wrote the book on flagellation.

she promised it was all for me;
calloused fingertips from
loving me with lighter fluid,
scratches for feral adoration,
and the damocles' above my head
or rather hers, and hers to drop on a whim.

she wrote a chapter on manipulation.

i wasn't ready the first time
she pushed passed denim
and plaid as easily
as she waived my concern,
nor the second --
nor the third.

she had daddy issues.

i still didn't know
how tampons worked,
or vaginas for that matter,
and so to be forcefully
and viscerally introduced to both
behind a tree in Henessey
****** up my brain a little.

she called it "mad week."

ear bud cables
became garrotes
around my neck
in the suspended
movement of a pulse
through my aorta;
and as every day with her,
i felt she crossed a line,
and as every day before,
i never called foul.
hypnotherapy brings back some ****.
bobby burns May 2013
regression
unwinds
repression
and sands away
the spool's grooves
which eat at twine
like moths eat light;
and underneath,
i found a summer -- thirteen,
before i discovered sea wolf,
before i knew i wasn't meant for marathons.
bobby burns May 2013
the two-by-fours
we carved into a cabin
for smoking pipe tobacco
and living in the mountains
are now muddied
and strewn over the hill
with so many shotgun shells
and ceramic victims in tow;
are now collected
by sassed out teenagers
finding fuel to feed
cancer with smoke
and smoke with memory --
which they will regurgitate
to build their cabin
to smoke pipe tobacco
to live in the mountains,

until it burns down
as all things must.
bobby burns May 2013
when made a designated drinker
for a designated driver.

when stomaching stale pabst
and rationed sweet cider.

when frat boys fulfill
stereotypical homophobia.

when twenty grade A reds
can't last me longer than a dream.

when old man nightclub and triple kills
usurp the crown of moderation.

when you fall asleep
with so much in your blood to spill
like beans,
or milk not worthy of tears,

and i keep a loom in my heart
where i weave a string of everyone
[with myself]
and every fray in warp or weft
is mimicked by the splinters
shuttled to my hand.
bobby burns Apr 2013
mornings are better
when wrapped up
in strawberry kiwi
paper and burned.
-
like gene wilder
and roald dahl
with lickable wallpaper
cut up into skins.
-
a mile took more
effort than i thought,
and i'd rather replace
the tar in my lungs
with love,
but no one
likes to shotgun anymore,
and the man i've written
so much about
has pulled a move
more fitting me
than him,
-
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