I was a ***** slushie flannel senior the first time I saw him,
an undid a button of morning regrets.
He was a nicotine stained midnight kiss I don't really remember,
A salt water perception of perfection labeled in a sly smile and small print,
he left bruises of lust on my wind pipes and I left my ear ring in the back seat of his Mazda.
He became my taxi driver,
my room full of people,
my absent fathers approval.
I took on my role of his unable to vote baby with librarian eyes.
And then one night he suggested an experiment to see if no other girl loves like the way my eyes beg him to stay.
He smiled down at me as if I should feel like I was in his gratitude,
he told me I should thank him for paper shredding me so I could learn to tape myself back together piece by piece,
so I could decipher my ripped description and learn to write again.
"Let me give you the most detailed inspiration, let me break you", he whispered, "so we can be equal".
Darling Slam the door on our hazy summer nights and remember me in disgust,
"Trust me", he said you need someone to look after you and only the smartest man can put a puzzle like your eyes together and only an artist will like the picture of your battle scares when you pick up the white flag.
I was naive that he thrived off a fight.
He claimed that the most intoxicating evening with me would be to be with me whether I liked it or not,
problem is I loved it.
He said he'd find ecstasy when I needed him less so he could crave me more,
and after way to many blue moon beer funnels mixed with the salt water of his absence he got what he wanted.
He took me to the doctor he used to claim to be yet I never once told him it was the frequency of his presents of not being present at all that made me bleed so deeply.
God I'm bandaging his self inflicted wounds for my own scabs wish list,
and now My fingers shake on how much I need his hands on my waist,
or how I'd do anything for those bruises out of love.
See all that's been on my mind is our ice cream melting pushed against the car first sober kiss and how he said he'd wanted to snap for me until I was oozing tears of joy cause all that he lectured about was learning to use a pen for myself again.
I prayed for inspiration,
I prayed for him to be my metaphorical daydream.
See this boy smiled religiously,
obviously aware that I didn't know a thing about happily ever after, he wanted to listen. Gripping my bible white sheets with his palms whispering,
Tell me when, where and I'll be there.
I believed him.
So for you my bipolar baby It's here, it's now and were finally equal.

My mouth is wrapped in razor wire. The less said the better. Whole worlds are caught between my teeth. My eyes are somewhere between moons, and my nostrils breathe the mist of demons. My earlobes have the jewelry of vast continents. And my throat is strangled with amethyst tears. My hair wraps your shoulders. My pearls touch your belly. And my hands? They flutter like leaves in the wind to catch galaxies. I long to say the three words. But deserts live on my tongue.

Yet it takes only a moment to say goodbye.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/7/2016

Our alabaster skeletons,
our framework of ancient spires
arching to the heavens and
hung with multicolored glass
sunlight pours through as visitors gasp
and kneel and besmirch and knock over
Muscadine,
the Eucharist and Time.

Loneliness
is echoing throughout my body
and is built into my bones.
It collapses my rib cage
and suffocates my brain.
Loneliness
is weighing my down
like an anchor out at sea.
Sitting upon my shoulders,
Shattering my collar bones.
Loneliness
is crushing me completely.
My wrists can no longer
bear this weight
and my knees are shaking.

Kiss the truth away one  more time
Torn footnotes in the wind
Your swift hand  cutting goodbye through the air
The world is dark again
I trip over your your love so readily
Eyes cast over the night hoping for light
No stars dare shine
No flowers bloom in colour
The moon drags the day over
The same sarcastic drawl
Silver sliver smile irks me
I never learn,
Draw the bullet again
It's love.
What the hell did you expect?

I suffocated myself with the words I didn't say.

A metropolis
between us glass walls, formic
art of consumption.

Eyes barren within
like landscapes of the wasteful
dead as their highways.

From Central Park bench
Dogs walk folk on jogging trail
crumbs of passersby.

Spectacles' dark shades,
Soldier, drone, still hive alone.
They storm in silence.

Window of locusts
In view of our summer fruit,
cosmic flesh so blue.