If it’s true that I’m stuck with my hands
Even after I’ve dumped my sadness down the drain
Then I’ll hold on to it.

If it’s true that when I kissed you I cut your lip
And tried to **** you dry
Then I wish you hadn’t stopped me.

Memories stain and it might be true that I’ve been six months clean. Give and take a few.

The mind is its own place and you left ****** finger-paintings on the walls.

There’s an old folks tale told by blind witches
And if it’s true, the myth, it goes like this:
“There once was a boy who fell in love with a plastic doll. She would stare at him and he never felt seen. So he injected that neon fluid inside his veins so she would notice him. he glowed brilliantly like a motel sign, like a phosphorous mannequin.
All for nothing”

I had replaced the blood I ****** out
With mine
Well whoever put that blood in me, in there,
That blood I put in you

If I did dump my sadness it would go to the river
In the big fish tales, in the sirens, in the spoiling
River bed

And after rolling off of you, stiffened by some ***** of pleasure
                 It’s the only time you feel real
I would go to the sink, dip my head under
The rushing water
Fill myself up on it
Feel it fill my stomach and my eyes

What have I fallen for?
What have I taken in?
People have survived on sadness and emptiness
                                   on stories and truth
                                            forever

    Who am I to refuse that?

Alone he woke. The cold bed meant nothing. Real fingers, real light cutting through the real denseness. Today will be marked with an X.
Wide eyed, blood turned to kerosene.

People will love it
               When and if they can relate
I wake up and force oatmeal down
Drink the bright lights and orange juice
Press my fingers in my face
Mold it into whatever I am that day
Jump of the balcony and start anew

People want to see themselves in it
Your hair is all over the pillow
You’re light years away
Your clothes hang like vultures in the morning noise
I grab the heaviness of evil deeds
And force it into your mouth
Swallow and disappear

People want it to be universal
We are giddy trapeze artists
We can burn the house down with our hearts
We can blow the candles out
Wish for a flood
Wish for rain, a baptism forced
Wish for tomorrow dressed in its best threads
Wrapped
up
lightly.

I want to know
My negations
(as everyone does)
but I can’t
and to deny demons and devils
is to feed them
to negate the life-angels
is always in need of them
(and in want we are)
you know how arrogant you have to be to think you deserve them?
You know how much effort it takes for them to come down?
Do you know how heavy you are?
     ?
     ?     (victims of victims)
             (victims of victims
(victims of victims
(victims of victims)
Everything these days is brighter
And clearer and people bloat in it
Stuffed to death with laughter and
Harmony and the real world
             (where)
There are shadows of/and thin saints
Who dwell in emptiness and blue tears
In drugs and ******* /chemistry
In rented rooms and inhuman anatomy
of/ and mouths covered in duct-tape
(Regard-less)
I want to reach the meaninglessness
Between yes and no which is eye-open and eye-shut
I want to fall
In love with you but that’s a bad wish at a cheap funeral
(we go struggling back and forth on living)

I just close my eyes and
Wait for people to appear
Vines entangling me
Letting me stay right where I want
Most
Of you
Go upwards
Striving for beautiful things
Like happiness
And virtue
Christmas Gifts
And big big candles

But I sit making my own light
To line up the long shadows
In theory and in thought
And I can’t desire
Blindly
So most of you say

I need movement into or out of
And in and out of
But I am more virtuous than you
In my filth and my invented songs
Than you ever will be
In your pink houses
And your green roads

Because I have found something
That doesn’t lie inside me
(or all of you)

I have found
That every time I open my eyes
Everything is there
Open-wide and ready to be
Taken

There you are
               The warm whiskey falling off your forearm
                                       Falls into her mouth
                         It will transform her
  You’re already done changing
                                  Her hair will turn red
                                  Her eyes green just for you

There you are again
                        All you ever wanted was
                                 The un-devouring fire
                        The amber more black than crimson
  You pick your skin from under her nails
               You suffocate the burning in the sink
Oh god

There you are
             And you meant to tell her
                      You’re sick in the head
            But instead you scared her away
                    While cooking breakfast you cut your hand
And lost even more skin