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Jake McKowen May 2010
Can't write- words won't come.
Why did I leave? Why can't I go?

Can't quit- brain won't stop.
I gave it up. I ****** it up.

Just leave- go away now.
It was too good. Just wasn't too real.

Don't know- can't describe it.
Just a feeling. It hurts so good.

Like pins- sharp, tiny ones.
Poking here, there. Pricking everywhere.
© Jake McKowen, 2010
Jake McKowen May 2010
Brain racing, wors falling (or is it flowing?). *******.
Hand writing (righting?) the wrongs I've made.
Pen (pin?) scratching words on flesh that doesn't seem to feel.

Dog scratching (stretching?) after fleeing (fleaing?).
I don't know (care?) where it (I?) went wrong.
We loved (love?) each other.

We moved away (apart?) but not on.
When will (can?) it end?
It won't. It won't. It won't.

This doesn't end, this love (lust? loss?) we share.
We lay (lie?) alone together, apart together, in sin together.
In awe together.

Do you think (obsess?) about me?
This love is real (real?)
Cantstopwontstop. Why?
© Jake McKowen, 2010
Jake McKowen May 2010
Look down this street
With only a handful of houses
And my eyes land on 2880

It's a weird number considering
There aren't that many feet
On the street. Oh how my
Feet loved that street.

But weird is apt; we had
A weird love like a praying mantis.
Only I'm unsure who fed on whom.

We fed each other.
With lies and love we gorged ourselves
And then came back for more.

I ate you every night,
But never really got full.
Parasite or symbiote: it's a fine line.

Fine was good for a while
Like ramen in college
You got me through.

Your dogs were my dessert
And I spooned you all the
Sweetness I could muster.

But it was still under-saturated
I'm sure. 2880 made me
Mrs. Child feeding you my love.

But we both share dissordered eating.
Wanting more than we'll take or give
A car ride with only a hand held.

I guess going back for seconds was a bad idea
But I really loved the buffet.
You're moving on, and staying put when

I can't stand still except to sit
Outside 2880 is where I tell myself
I'll quit going back for more.

Guilty glutton; it's what I am.
I don't know when to stop.
I can't forget 2880.

I don't know how to end
Anything that I begin
Turns into a run-on when I run in.

Cold turkey is the way to go
Grandma did it, but she had more
To lose more to love and less
Time to love it.

I was broken before 2880,
And managed to fix myself
While breaking your house

That I love. It's how
I do: break when enter.
Small bites are easier to swallow.
© Jake McKowen, 2010
Jake McKowen May 2010
We talk so much about
Who we’ll lose it to or
How it’s going to happen and
We pretend to really care.

But in the end it’s just some
Thing we’ve lost to some
One we’ll lose, too.

He’ll take your trust in men,
She’ll make you see they 
Really aren’t so bad after
All. The things we let people do.

Do I wish we had
Not done it that way that
Maybe things should have
Been different?

It’s not like I wanted it
To be all planned out.
And when it happened
With him I couldn’t
Have been any happier could I?

After all, we all lose
People or things or ideals
Or trust. That we can never
Give back again.

So what makes this one thing
So important? So big to give
It up to someone we’ll lose
When we know we’ll lose
It all anyway?

— The End —