I think about her naked sometimes
I probably think about it
because I doubt she would give me the satisfaction
of touching her in the heat of passion
so it’s just easier for me to imagine
walking in on her in the bath, drinking a glass of red
maybe cabernet sauvignon, who knows, who cares?
a light steam rising off the foamy suds
they cover only what I want to see
even in my fantasies I like to be teased
she is calm
as though she left the door unlocked intentionally
waiting like a painting in a gallery for me to clumsily stumble in
and find her beautifully sprawled in a Victorian tub with copper clawfeet
painted wet-on-wet like a portrait by John Singer Sargent
her milky blue and marble eyes soften my will like whiskey
and I find myself kneeling beside the bath
my hand gently trembles as it glide against satin velvet skin

I drip the way condensation does
down ice cold beer in a TV commercial
when she looks at me.
I'm soaking up cardboard coasters,
sweating labels off bottles
until she wraps her hands around me again,
kissing me with those flower petal like lips,
drinking me all in.

I know I'm not what she needs
but right now I'm what she wants.
Not to stroke my own ego
but I am a good time,
I'll get you to undo that top button
even make you laugh
and maybe, just maybe
I'll even get you to dance
but no matter what I promise
or what I deliver,
I know at the end of the day
when the fun is done
and the headaches fade,
I am poison.
And when she's had too much of me
I'll make her sick.
***** spit in bathroom sinks
because she's too beautiful
to have her head in the toilet.

I'm the answer to feeling sad,
I'm the easy late night phone call
that never goes unanswered
but I am not the man
she marries, no not at all
because as sweet as I taste
or as gently as she may kiss my face
I am going to disappoint her.
The way I have disappointed
all the others before her.

An absent father's failure with an inhaler in hand

Insecurity seething from his skin

Manifesting it's self as bulbous red abrasions on his forehead

A heavy breathing child who's eyes were often aimed low

His expectations for life even lower

A little over weight but not enough to concern his pediatrician

He cut gym class a lot because of the showers

Now fourteen he had seen a few ******

He knew he didn't match up

It was better that no one knew he thought

He went on living like this

A pale shadow hovering in the halls

A faceless nobody in the background of someone else's group photo

A ghost who was only noticed by those who tortured him

Bullies like sharks can smell blood in the water

And he was chum

I still vividly see the feeding frenzy

I still remember the day we were told he took his own life

NO shrieks, NO cries, NOT even a whimper was heard

Almost a concerted sigh of boredom

That night there was a party

Not to celebrate his death

But an apathetic gesture of his nonexistence

I attended as was socially expected of me

Even wore a smile

But my mind wrestled with his suicide

I thought of how much I hated him

I hated the smell of his weakness

I hated the 'poor me' attitude

I hated him for taking his own life

Leaving me to feel guilty

That I had done nothing to help him

As if I was responsible in some way

...

I see her there
soaking in the bath
the water as warm as her flesh
she floats, suspended in emptiness
melting slowly as she gazes

I see her there
wine in hand, unfulfilled
by her intoxication
bored by reality, just jaded
by the whole affair of breathing

I see her there
thoughts of drowning
in a ceaseless sea
of forgettable people
with forgettable faces

I see her there
but she does not see me
I am the red stain on her teeth
the warm water inviting her to sleep
I am death, and oh so quietly
do I creep.

Streaks

from worn out wipers

dented cans, plastic wrappers

the glow of a cigarette ****

lying comfortably 
in the ashtray

white knuckles tight

on a weathered wheel

empty roads

cold and black

eyes tired but open

like trucker stops

or roadside diners

with the neons

still on

I keep driving

teetering between

my existence

and a sweet dream

I’d slip into that slumber

if not for the passengers

still fast asleep
in my back seat

So I keep driving

as quiet 
and as lonely

as it may be

I keep driving

because 
somebody

is putting
 their trust
 in me