you forgot about me
so quickly
i'm starting to think
i was never there
at all
i've got all these
grungy little
rubber marks
on my
chest
tire tracks
on my legs
you were never there
at
all

An army of little girls
poke dandelions through the skin of
every man who could hurt them.

Blades in a briefcase, hide several
between their legs
until the wetness chafes her

right where the dark funnels
stop. The big people and his crosses –
armpits made of porcelain then dug

into little girl gardens,
a meadow of dandelions scrawled:
we do not give you ourselves

but we will give you our blood.
Their masculine fingers could not win,
too harsh for bald skinned little girls.

I sat there looking at the kitchen table unwilling or unable to take it all in
And many years later someone said,
"Hi and where have you been"?

I was here all along which was wrong,
I had gone to the far side.
So I lied and said,
"Somebody died"
Didn't say it was me.
Couldn't see any reason to tell them the story
Of where there is death there seldom is glory and I have seen,
The dying
The crying out in anguish
The wishing it was me
Do you see why, I had to tell them the lie?

On the far side of a day where the night demons lay
And the playing of light
Seems okay and quite right.
Where the brightness is less than at noon
And where soon the wails will arise
As one more lost soul dies.
These are the cries from my heart.

Inside and in parts where the loneliness starts
Is my place.
Where I can't face the tears of fifty odd years, where I sink
With the turn and the spins where once again it begins
I sit back at the table and still am unable
To take it all in.

wide-eyed with our father’s exhaustion, my drifter of a brother enters the new house at night to steal a less than perfect fang.  the infamous gun of our youth.

A lot of the kids I went to school
were so **** sure of themselves
they would prattle on about
how macro economics was their passion
or how a major in accounting
is their dream
and there's nothing wrong with that
but would your would be passion
be your passion if you were homeless?
if you were terminal
I'm talking like
one year left on the clock
is your passion what you'd still be pursuing?
so you have a passion?
then go out and get it

I remember the days that we sped through
Where I bled for you
Where my tears were shed for you.
Do you.

In the nights where we lay
I never thought you would say
Goodbye to me
Did you lie to me
When you said to me
I love you?

Was it all in the mix
A double fix for you
To see you through
Or did me and you
Have something good?

Would you stay if I could
make it better than good
Or would you still go?
Tell me
I just want to know.

The sun will still shine
On you.
Be mine and
Divine it can be
If you'll stay with me.
Don't go and just so you know
I love you
Didn't say it too much
A little touch shy
Can't tell you why
It's the way that I am.

*******.

i woke up this morning
rejoicing
in the strength with which
i slammed the door
in your face
and i was entirely fine
i even almost slept
ok
last night
didn't have to puzzle
over all the useless words
you ever said to me
(...maybe they weren't useless...)
and of course
i ***** myself once again
i managed to forget
to remove all the songs
we sang together
from my playlist
and as i stand here,
a hair-straightener tangled
in my hair
'smile' comes on
**** you
uncle
kracker

i
smiled