Closed systems tend to maximize, Daddy gave me hint & warning sign. I beg him to decorticate my stubborn rind,to draw the line -----
a graceless short fat thumb-scratch. ***** finger, rough disorder, I unwind in the presence of infection. Bandaid glue and patchwork sweat, chaos in prevention: self- destruction.

bowling-pin Tom
tastes like
sour milk and
monthly payments
I run around his kitchen
dressed in lethal
butter knife

my railroad cat
with eyes that
play-pretend the almost
catch me´s
finds meaning in my
indulgent
nursery rhymes

Trailer park escapism
joy in school-bus
traffic rides
otherwise inconsequent
ring dove hands
that scrape
my sea-salt thighs

my roman nose did not
fit the cupboard womb
as I stared at
the silhouette
of a ketchup stain on  
a breakfast table
raw burger meat,
ripe debutantes
all bathed in
glycerin and
self-destruction
waiting for teeth
or the occasional knife
(chaining themselves
to trees
whose seeds mostly
wander)

I came here alone
(use me and squeeze me)
the insides of the
shrinking constitution,
the demure dissident
such a thrill
to smear my guts
all over the newspapers
to see the visions
of the
ink so
honeysuckle
intertwined


I pressed
against
the greasy
diner table
arms crossed
to hide my face behind
a promise to be
waiting for you
open mouthed
and mute
chiaroscuro, blind

I am the shirt you bought
when love was kind

you pressed your head
against the garment rack
and held my ridged noose
like a child
that finds grip
in calloused hands  
and you found
brawn in
polyester sleeves
and warmth
in my youth´s
tender cotton

You bought me
when you still
prayed to silence
and howled in whispers,
with your teeth latched onto
the mesh bars
of a silver cage
and you called me your equinox
and I was your hope
when you didn't know
my name

You wore me,
when you still
wished time
would run away,
when all your past felt binding
and the unknown was safe


I am the shirt that you now keep
all paint-stained and shriveled
in your locked  
bedroom drawer

the one you catch a glimpse of
next to the lonely sock
and your father´s shirts
(the ones still stained with
blood and ***, the ones
that taught you to be fair)
and now you dare and
look at me with
soft despair
when I can't help but shed the
ocean

When
I become the air that seethes
through the accidental
armpit hole
Or the break of air between
the kiss you share
with the one you love

cyanide kisses
subtle, deluded
swaying softly
against the tender
skin
of a sweaty cheek

subdued candle flame
four hips gyrate to
keep
the quiet sting of
counterfeit moonlight

the raging constitution
of knowing your eyes
But pressing hard to
kiss his cough-drop
Tongue
and all this sudden asphyxiation

not looking up to conceal
all the things I see
in the quiet ammunitions
of the letters of your name
fading away
ink bleeding with
his sour hot saliva
in your hallmark ricochet

the one you kept in the shirt pocket
you kept close
to your heart rate

I am afraid.
What to do with such unspeakable emotion?
I will hide beneath the surface
of the fine lines of his face
and forget about the almost
had
the tide against
the rage
in a ship of my own making
an anemone bouquet
the last reminder
of the time and the day
you made me feel
able.

forsake me, anemone
forsake me
I´ll paint every other
flower red
while you stain away my tears

forsake me, anemone
forsake me
you never gave me permission
to only find God in you
you´re not to blame

the sun´s dull filter
a heart next to her name
so I´m drunk
with his saliva
on my face
(your hand
like an invisible string)
forsake me anemone
forsake me

I used to lay naked on the sand
pale body in stark contrast
To the dark soil
Right sided waves
Swiftly hit my raw intestine
Needle-pain against my
Life-sized scar

I used to drown in man-made puddles
Filled with the purple shades of a subtle tear
i found comfort in holding back the ocean
in swallowing,in blistering
(iodine, kidney, osmosis)


I drowned overflowed.


Now the sun
Keeps falling over me,
Laughing over me,
And the moon has left
My sleep tired eyes



(Oh right now) how i'd love
To simply burn.

A crack in the plastic cup
I run my fingers through
A Thumb-full of little cuts
I run my fingers through
worn-out bandaids
Can hardly contain (you)
Little reddish stains on
The white cotton fabric

For best results,
apply the bandage
to clean, dry, skin
(the cup was full of water)

skirt
lord knows she´s been places
each shy smile, a metaphor
pair of doe eyes
breaking through the centerfold
she´s the sweetest, pure confection
of your fantasies

skirt
rid yourself of ***** purities
enticing tragedy
wood on furnace

skirt
lovely dove
of tender bareness
only her
can breathe him airless

s kirt.

I'm a shameless liar
Thoughts
lost in translation
(Softly)
consumed by the fire
Trying to see through the haze
exhaling is dire
I was counting on you to find
My Telephone wire

But don't worry, love
Any words I could have said have been said (before)
So sorry if I seem quiet tonight, love
the trembling in my voice
Shaking lips and broken words
Are worth the itching in my tongue

The sun was dawning on her shoulders
but her spine, worn
did not feel the burn

Her tears dripped into the
sink
into the sponge
and the soap (lemongrass)
burned bruised hands
with the sting of lost hope

But Maria was  a wish
amid a crowd of stars
and those blissful days of
yore
beyond the shore
Were not as far

And after thinking for a while
she nodded with a smile
and the sun faded away
but she felt warm inside

her house.

Life does not reward
Disregard
Or looking cool
smoking a cigar
When you look away
(Smiling)
No one's looking at you
(Darling)

You act so nonchalant
And spend so much time
Low-sweet-perfecting
(your speech)
You've forgotten what you meant
To say

Later,
when your eyes
start turning green
and the dawning sun
lays dead upon them
You will ask about my dream
And I will tell you

Later,
When words don't suffice
to fill the voided skies
Between worlds built
On separate minds
And then I'll try

Later,
When the rivers run too
High
And you no longer listen

There is no
sweeter innocence
than the distress
caused
by the gentle rythm
of your torture
There is no cleaner
sound than the words
pouring out of your
mouth,
obscene
There are no lines between us tonight
no lines in between
(purity and sin)

looking out through rose-tainted windows
and peach-skin dreams.
the world around you
(you´re such a good boy)
is such a new thing
and you haven´t got the time
(it´s time to leave the playground now)
to waste on all these simple things
like figurines on icy roller rinks
or wet flamingos in bright pinks
shining like the stars that
drink
the darkness out of the night

the world around you
fairly new
might seem too small
for all your dreams to
bottle
(you can be anything)
and it is

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you came to me
gently,
with the soothing voice
of a sweaty spring
thank you, old friend
for being able to be
dark enough to see
the hidden light
in me

i will not go into the times we shared
asphyxia and summer air
juxtaposed to form
an inseparable pair

who am I, old friend
when the ship´s horn blares
if you made me who I am
(if you made me scarce)

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you left me
softly, without
any warning of
the lack of color
(there would be)
without your splendor

the proud moments of greatness
seem much louder than
the strenuous, arduous
f
  a
     l
        l

                                  But it is then
                      when our bodies collapse
                    and the crowd no longer claps
                     that the brevity of stars is felt
                 and the call of the siren is heard
              rising from the depths of our humanity
  
( it is only then we learn
that no being deserves disregard
nor should be made a deity
for failing is part of the duality  
that comes with the mortal experience)

three words
on the tip
of a nervous tongue
the not-so-subtle
trip
down a worn out
throat
the words pour out
hot
(like if my body
was the stove)
burning any semblance
of
                           proper
judgement