they lost an airplane.
(imagine that!)
it's 2014 and we just up and lost
an entire airplane.
Barack can tell you
what your best friend said
behind your back
on Facebook,
but we can't find
a ******* plane.
my father, man
that he is,
was all bluster
and thunder, righteous
fury, real Sinners in The Hand of an
Angry God
diatribe;
I stayed quiet through dinner because
I Knew
what it was like to lose something
huge and monumental and beautiful
in flight to behold.
I swear I'll never love again.

I am here,
laying in the grass,
eyes on the clouds and
mind in them.
I watch passing planes and their
twin streams of water
vapor arrow across the azure expanse
and I wish
I had
someone to share it with;
I wish
I had
shared it with you.

instead,
I am here,
laying in the grass,
daydreaming about boarding
a twin stream producing plane
and flying
the **** away from
here.

rip me from my bones
as a sensuous dress in the haste of dawn
such  is the seduction
of your fingertips

in your gaze my breast
is ripening

undress me of the silence
enclosing  freedom
yours is the night
make me collapse
into daylight

he's
tripping, but not
coerced by gravity;
rather a Molotov cocktail of
endorphins lobbed straight at his
prefrontal cortex.
some find this
distasteful,
some find it
deplorable;
god help me,
I find it adorable.
(it's the only time he'll
admit he loves me)

I still drift back to one song I heard  years back.
See  
I had me a "come-to-Jesus" moment
When you opened your mouth to sing.
I mean ****
I confess
Since that night I've wanted to get next to you

Tell you about the time I was in the crowd
All ****** and hazy
Then your voice rang out
I sat up in my seat, leaned in
Suddenly awake
and utterly
Stupefied.

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

i am far too flammable to be playing with matches like this but i like the way your hands burn and i like the singes on my dress, my hair, my skin and i know i shouldn’t but burning feels more alive than freezing and my body has been shaking from the cold for months now and even if this hurts just as much it’s so nice to just feel something, something different, something at all. cold eats you from the inside out, the ice spreading from your stomach to your throat before it appears on your lips and cold feels like nothing. you lose the sensation of touch and you lose your breath and it happens so slowly you don’t realize it at first. this is what my life has been like: slowly freezing me solid, deep freeze through to my heart, until my flesh can’t remember what it’s like to be flushed and warm and alive. fire is different; the flames dance on your skin and scorch you before your nerves register the feeling, before you realize the danger, and this is what you feel like. i want to commit small acts of arson with you and i want us to burn down the house i grew up in and we can kiss with the flames reflected in our eyes. you are my original sin, you are my Morningstar turned lucifer, you are mine.

I fell in love with you all over again in a hospital waiting room

I fell in love with the deep purple under your eyes
like delicate bruising

I fell in love with the paleness of your lips
from lack of nutrients

I fell in love with the way you moved slowly
and achingly wrapped in a white blanket the color of your skin

I fell in love with the deep crimson of your blood
as it ran through your IV

I fell in love with you again as I laid with you in the hospital bed at 3 am

we’d been there for 10 hours
and you had a little too much morphine in your system
and a lack of sleep
when you pulled me close and said

“I could really see myself marrying you some day”

and that was right before you kissed me with your dye stained lips
so they could see your insides better on the x-ray

I fell in love with you again when you looked at me with your
big hazel eyes that turn black around the edges

You said god had sent me from heaven
An angel to watch over you

I'm not too sure about that but what I do know is:

I Do

She always made so many promises
that she never intended to keep.
Lies spewed from her mouth day and night.
Her lies only begat more lies.
There was never any peace from the untruths she told.
Promise coming from her was a death sentence
to any plans you could possibly have.
All we wanted was to have a little fun,
but she ruined any hope any of us had at a normal life.
Hanging all our hope on a promise made in the forgiving darkness of night,
we just wanted her to follow through once.
Promises made in the quiet of night were always
broken in the harsh light of day.
And how harsh these broken promises were, too.
The unkept plans and dashed hopes feel more like
broken bones and bruised skin than simply reneging on a half-formed promises.
And we never called her out on it.
We merely let her continue on using our egos and morals as her own personal punching bag.
It’s not surprising then,
that she never stopped lying.