You're in every memory.
You've crept into every crevice.
First question:
Did I ever not know you?
Were you ever not there?
Did you actually ever care?
Did you listen when I said no? Now that it's all too late
Do you debate whether her tender touch was worth it?
fingers lit with fire you once fanned now they publish words about you I can hardly stand. I cannot stand up to you anymore so I ran.
But you didn't chase me, you've given me space in a literal sense but you're still inside my mind and memories.
That night I can home from the bar the evening after we decided to end things. We held each other and you held in that desperate secret.
I shouldn't have heard about her from someone else.
I was always truthful to you, but you lied to me.
Third question: When did it become inconvenient to love me?
Was it when you saw the panic in my eyes when you asked her to stay the night? Did it begin when I told you about how I dream about hanging myself by my own insides? Was it when I told you I wanted to die? I have tried, to keep me grounded and the sound of self hatred at bay, but baby I guess that just wasn't enough for you was it?
Fourth and final question.
will you listen to me crying in the room next to yours?
With your doors locked and your guns loaded with loaded question, can you bear to bar yourself from my hands.
So soft.
from my heart, hardening with every passing day.

I sing louder without you.
My voice sounds clearer now that you've left my throat.
I don't choke on the syllables you didn't want to hear.
I am billions of light years longer than when you left me breathless.
You can no longer keep me, captured inside your eyes I am like the sunrise we never quite caught.
I am all the times you made excuses not to love me, I am the loudest time I ever told you I loved you.
Somehow, similarly I am so much more without you.
I am a kaleidoscope of colors blending and bleeding into one. I have completely come undone, where you held me, under your thumb, I am boundless! I am beating fists on chest, I am no longer someone’s second best I am brilliant!

I get so high without you.
I have too.
I can't let my mind think of you.
of your body against mine.
against hers too.

You pinned yourself against me,
and I'm still trying to figure out why?
and I can't cry anymore.
and I can't stop shaking and getting
baked.

When a boy asks you to structure yourself,
break his fingers.
Find his weakness
and will
them against him.
hold him to the standard
that all that is not structured shall snap.
Sharpen yourself to a point and pierce him.

Blank Verse.
I only ever write poems about people I want to ****.
Fingeratively speaking anyway.
(Jesus my puns are bad.)
I’ve had some semblance of balance in my life.
Up to this point.
There’s a joint in her hand and she looks like the sea.
Her eyes glazed over like sunsets.
I’ve got a beer in my fist.
First of many, and I mainly want to kiss her.
Caress her, I hardly even want to **** her.
Creep down her spine with my lips and cradle her neck with my fingertips.
She’s got that hair that holds itself up.
Like it’s keeping her up.
Like her hair’s a hot air
Balloon, is that rude?

There is no one on the ferry tonight.
When I say no one,
I mean no...one.
I am the only passenger.

The crewmen go about their usual business
And I sit on the top deck
For the first time in a year;
letting the for-once warm air touch my body again.
It was snowing two days ago.
It is now the first of May.

I open my library book that is long overdue
I'm only forty pages away from the finish,
Maybe I can get it done tonight.

But when we pull away from the deck
And I can't keep my eyes off of her.
The skyline.
The city.
The moon has made his début
and he paints her so perfectly,
with a silvery glow
and fuzzy edges.

I crack the spine and let the frayed pages
reach for each other,
overlapping like intertwined fingers,
and shut the cover.

I am in awe.
I am a child, reaching out,
grasping at lights,
languidly,
wanting to capture fireflies
on hot summer nights -
just to feel them,
as if they were mine,
for a moment.
Hold it,
hold it
hold this peace and don't let it go.

I do not feel my body
because,
in these precious few minutes,
I am free of it.
I do not have my body
I do not have that burden
There is no more head cold
No more pain
No more flesh anchor
to feel discomfort.

We push away from the ground
further into the harbour
And my eyes trace the road maps,
Carlights glide through it like a maze.

I see bright signs,
in-your-face advertisements
but their meaning -
their Capitalist importance -
is lost on me.
It beads off my mind like wet drops on duck down.
I am invulnerable to these pressures,
these pushing ideas,
these modes of persuasion.

I'm now caught by the bridge.
By cars on trucks on vans on bikes
All criss-crossing across it.
I am confused
Isn't it closed tonight?
Isn't that why I'm here?
No, it strikes me,
This, is a Friday.
The bridge is open.
People have decided to use the bus instead.
And I am thankful.

We stretch far enough from our starting point
I can't clearly make out the signs anymore.
I lose interest,
I test my vision. Focus on one bridge,
then the next.
Watch the yellow orbs follow one another,
and become less and less frequent.

We come closer to our destination
And my insides hum with inner peace.
I switch seats.
Watch the shoreline approach.
I see so many of the streets
I run back and forth on daily.
I see the Casino
I see the harbour view hotel I used to clean.
I hear nothing
but water
splitting and spitting
parting ways at the will of our boat's edges.

As the Navy yard approaches
I wonder if the single sailor I know
is aboard one of those ships.
They are large shadows with smoke
coming from them like dragons.
But they'd be nice, I think.
The smog curls like a tongue on the water,
Dissipates,
And gives way to more
to take new form.
Like a hydra
Where one head is lost
another appears.

And now the signs catch my attention again.
Bank logos identical to the other side.
I am reminded the world is run by banks,
that we eat money.
But the thought is not cynical,
or negatively tainted.
I it just there.
I am only present.
I am the only one present.

Time, the world, is a mountain range.
It stays still, it stays the same,
but people move on top of it.
Sculpt it to their will, and by accident,
and by habit.

I look to the water and am reminded
how dangerous it would be,
for me,
to fall.
But the more you know about something
Does not necessarily,
take away from temptation,
to touch it.

We dock;
We wiggle and jimmy into the boat's parking spot.
And I cannot help but be infected with dismay.
The familiar sights come back to me.
Murphy's,
Theodore,
The board walk.

I reluctantly drag myself from my bliss
and down the stairs,
acknowledging the man letting down the ramp.
He reminds me how lucky I am,
to have a ferry all to myself,
even if only for one night.

I agree.

I grieve at the departure,
Because I am no longer disconnected from the city.
On a safe island of in between,
I am once again a part of it.
I am swallowed by it's presence,
And I am forced to retake my place as a single firing neuron
in a thriving organism;
A toxic ecosystem.

My headache returns.

Coming down from the high of my meditation,
I begin to have 'city thoughts' again.

I can write the tired away.
I can out write the anxiety.
I can put down the words faster than my
head can put together, crazy, non-sensical,
yet nonetheless horrifically painful
possible scenarios.
I can beat it.
And be happy.
In the throws of my madness
AC's right
Insanity is painful
But it hurts to fight it.
But you can write it back.
I can put down all the horribleness
So it can't grow and **** me.

Save me.

I know the response.

I just keep hoping that
If I wait long enough
To check it,
The reply will
Change.

i wonder today
as i walk down the street
if someone
will yell at me.

something like
"does the carpet match the drapes?"
"want a ride?"
"nice ***"
"you're just my size"
"hey ginger"

red in the head
good in bed
they say

i am glad the pictures here are in black and white.