there's something bitterly comedic about seeing you talk about trauma
like you're the victim of something great,
like you're holding all these secrets in those big, wretched, calloused hands i feel in my darkest nightmares.
poor baby, poor teddy,
oh brother,
do you feel small?
and did i feel small, hiding in closets, or under that loft bed?
under that same loft bed. hand made, white painted wood,
heart-shaped pillow, lavender dollhouse,
quiet games,
dead childhood,
stolen innocence.
come to me, cry to me,
you just lost your girlfriend,
you just lost your job,
your life all fell apart
and i am soothing you through gritted teeth
remembering how you ruined mine before it even had the chance to start.
they say
i know you don't like him but you must love him.
i wonder if blood is still blood once you've drawn it?
and i still feel like i owe it to you.
it was us against this whole dark world that left us
but you were supposed to protect me.
i should have been playing with toys,
but i was the toy.
when we went hungry i was the raw meat in your mouth.
you starved for anything you could tear into, cut up, make a mess of.
we had that holes in our couch, holes in my childhood,
"you're not on my hit list yet,"
"i'm just checking up on you" kinda brotherly love that is swept so neatly under the rug until it eats right through the floorboards.
i try to will those gaps back in my memory.
it would be so much easier if i just swallowed it right up dry, choked it down, let it digest, let it melt away to a stomach ache so i don't have to think about you.
i will scrub my skin raw at the end of this scream,
try to wash you off of me,
but this has been embedded deep in my skin for so long,
too long-
can you tell me when it started?
honest to god i don't remember.
what was it about me, soft face, soft limbs, empty mouth that made you want to hurt me?
my earliest memories exist in haunting.
my formative years are a poltergeist, you are the evil thing inside of me.
and so you come to me with stories and expect sympathy,
And i will hold my tongue in my mouth lest i feel enough like a wounded animal to try eating you alive,
pretending the iron taste of blood that floods my mouth is yours,
that i am as strong and metallic.

i scrape out dirt that one
can’t see with the naked eye
from underneath my nails
out of anxiousness
desperation
needing to feel
the keratinized layers add
femininity to me
cleaning them out
twice more
nine times more
seventeen times more
i pull my hands away and stare
at the chipped clear polish and
savagely push back the cuticles

forgive me for i have forgotten what love feels like
tastes like
and looks like,
so even if i were to stumble into her on the street after all this dies down
i wouldn’t even recognize her
nor have the slightest idea on how to keep her

It has been almost a month since we slept on the same bed, shared a meal on the same plate, forgotten about the pains and focused on the laughter's instead.

It has been almost a  month now since I felt the touch of your hand, massaged the back of you neck, uttered a word or two to you, how I miss making love to you...

I know these are simple words, but you and I both know that we created a world of our own, which has now fallen into an abyss of storms, lost souls wandering around wondering where did we go wrong?

There are so many words I can use to describe the love on its own, but nothing can compare to the profound experience we went through, the emotions, the thrill of it all.

All I can say is that I still miss you, I sometimes don't know what to do, but cry, weep or fall in a state of numbness, I guess it'll probably take another year or years to get over you.

Angels descend to collect your breath
Instead they have something else in mind,
You've misused it and mistreated the gift bestowed upon you
You're beautiful and take people's breath away,
Now it's become a game to see how many you can take
Now as punishment you will have you breath taken eternally by him
Is it really a curse,
You seem to enjoy the pain..

the cascade of clear blue falls even in the midst of the furvous night
the call of a bird echoes cross canyons composed of ages of old
the glint off amber cliffs calls to the reflection of ancience
floors of sandstone riddled with stagnant ghosts of footprints
these paths were once walked by those larger than life

we search for purpose radiometrically
estimating the desperation in the dating
allowing our hearts to sink to an endless expanse of unexplored sediment
grasping onto the aching for the pleasure beneath the pain
self decay feels natural at the bottom of the ocean

peace comes naturally while disappearing into pieces
it will find me upon the return of the rogue daughter to the expanse in which she belongs
may my atomic descendents one day hold the fossils of my being between their fingers
let the earth shake under the feet of whom possesses my bones
and let them keep digging, let them excavate all of us whole

They whirl and swirl and dive
But do they?
The no see ‘ems, You can’t see ‘em
but you can feel them there
Cavorting and frolicking, invisible in the air
A dinner time dance, gluttonous splurge
You’ll know all about their evening soirée
When you discover the main course is
… You.

drought dry only a fortnight, and no trace
of the swimmers--not a bloated bass or a skeletal carp
only a few lily pads burnt russet by the sun

all else, perverse interlopers from modernity:  
bullet banged beer cans, truck tires,  
and the ubiquitous bottle water plastic
waiting patiently for the next ice age

no sign of one fish that emitted a last gilled gasp here

deep beneath the bed though
progenitors rest, theirs and ours,
antediluvian, Permian, as permanent as the word allows
my footfalls above them today
tomorrow silent where they lay