we were the lost generation
creeping around in abandoned houses
playing with ouija boards
talking to spirits
hoping to anger our gods enough
that they’d let us know they were real
and not just part of an overactive imagination
which we’ve always hoped was the truth
because an afterlife is scary
and so is having a god
but the alternative is worse
not having one at all
because who can you cry to then
when you’re alone and too
depressed
to go on any longer
without some holy sovereign hope
that it will get better it will

I’m surrounded by breaking crosses
And it seems I’ve formed a habit
When I fall in love with someone
They take my faith and smash it.
First there was the golden boy
And then a black rosary,
Third was when all the saints fell
And a blue cross vanished, finally.
All these lonely hearts out there,
Seeking their holy redemption
Are easily swayed from their gods
By lovers’ recognition.
But I have faith
And I have faith
But oh but oh in what?
In God, I’m sure- that’s a must.
But the sacred problem remains-
Lovers cover gods as a crutch.

I'm trying to see through this charade,
Get down to the bare marrow.
But darling, this is a swan song,
I can feel it in my bones.
Cigarette ash and cheap old wine,
Mend the tears in my skin.
But every time I think too hard,
It's like pouring salt on the wounds.
Girls like me, we don't break easily,
But when we do, it's like falling into the abyss.

I look like an angel,
But scratch like a demon.
It'll never be fair,
And we'll never break even.

I heard music that reminded me of us

And it made me want to run to your arms

Of course I’m not sure how long you’ll be open

But you make me want to be safe from harm.

Just be my dearest friend when daylight dies

And I promise I’ll do the same for you

When all the lights go down in the hills

By your side, I feel safe and new.

Just so you always know

I’m sorry when I’m my selfish self

All I ever have wanted

Was just to not wake up by myself.

So pingpong across the abyss with me

And quote Tolstoy as we lie side by side

Speak like Ginsberg and Rilke would

And I’m comforted that I don’t have to hide.

You stand apart as a human being

Even though you’re not sure you have a soul

But the fact that you cry at bittersweet movies

Solidifies my faith in old Hebrew scrolls.

Sometimes I’m honestly and truly afraid

That you won’t be the one for me

Because you’re the only one I want

But I know that we both long to be free.

It can feel like I’m in love with a strict machine

But the look in your eyes when you play piano

Or have just read a letter I gave to you

Assures me I’m so far from right in this matter.

The smell of you when you’re tired and warm

Or your kind face when you look my way

Scares me so because I love you so much

That it breaks my heart to think of you going away.

Your skin with it’s many scars is so rawly beautiful

I love tracing the freckles on your shoulders and back

Connecting them to the lines you yourself have drawn

Making living constellations and maps.

I hope that when I’m five hundred miles away

You’ll look straight up at Arcturus and Scorpio

Because nothing would make this sweeter

Than you knowing that I’m gazing at the heavens too.

Do you know I fall more in love each time we speak

For you’re a wonderful man with a beautiful mind

I can just hope and trust and pray

That I can be with you for a lasting time.

someday I’ll wake up in a bed that isn’t in my mother’s house

or in your mother’s either

someday I’ll want to read the newsprint and know for sure

but not right now in this horrid time

someday I’ll finish that copy of War and Peace

but 1200 pages are too long to care

is this an analogy of my love for you?

when I woke up this morning we were white

snow-covered and naked, ivory

carved as statues but warm, a breeze

chest cavity imprinted by a golden cross

IC XC engraved on forearms

we had red flowers embroidered into our skin

dark hair providing the contrast our souls need

no lust here, just eyes crusted by sand

softly moving over each other like pythons

it’s ten thirty and I make my black coffee

the steam entwines with cigarette smoke

eyes glazed, reading a book on sin and redemption

someday I’ll make it to church on time.