whistle, call out,
bait me in,
i'm super ******* cool,
i can't forgive,
what i can't forget,
whistle, call out,
the neurons fire mad,
the adrenaline screams,
grinding teeth,
i'm super ******* cool,
whistle, call out,
taunt, bait,
think of your throat,
of your crippled arrogance,
listen,
i'd love to spill your blood,
i'd love to make you hate every breath,
but i'm super ******* cool,
so i'll watch from afar
as you spill your own,
going mad at the lack
of a response,
at the lack of an ally,
i don't have time to
pretend,
to be bait,
to be horned,
to get drawn in and *******,
i'm brando in a white t-shirt,
i'm fonzie decked in leather,
and you're a summer *****
whose season is in passing.

Do something you’re afraid of
[fall]

Like the night I lay my head on your shoulder,
I needed you to stay alive,
I needed you in order to stay alive.
The night we saved each other’s lives.

It was everything,
and your heart kept beating (against my ear)
and the tv talked to itself.
We went to sleep afraid that it was nothing.



Like that night you told me you were in love with me.
It was nowhere special.
It was the couch in your room.
And thats what made it real.

I said nothing back
and the trees tapped against the window
and eyes around the world were closing.
I did not speak, but I kissed you.



Like the night you drove me home
after the world broke our hearts.
It was 1am
We were two, two was one, and one was alone.

I wanted to stop moving
and the floating snow brought silence in through the open windows
and the street lights made moving shadows on your skin.
The earth moved as black pavement rushed beneath us.



Like tonight as the weight of moments that were years is breaking our necks.
I’ll pick up my eyes and look at you
waiting for me in the openness of the street
brighter than a star.

Standing there like an open door
and the wind is blowing through your hair
and when every breath is a leap of faith,
I will never stop falling.

I'm a parody to mythology,
the northern star to ***** pilgrims with no teeth.
I'm a staring contest with Clinton,
who lied through his skin about touching someone else's.
He wasn't alone the way he thought he was
I'm behind the gardenias, ******* to **** them
just to spite you. He touched inside my skin.

Eyes like raisins or melting almonds,
touch like hairy, pointed fingers,
snaps so loud that Santa's nose turns red in anger.
He can hear the voices of politicians over his music
like the roars of cars at night, when you're trying to fall asleep.
He sleeps with his round-rimmed glasses on, a bow tied around his ears for beauty.
babies' cries twang through his dreams
from the strings of a banjo, making his lips
yearn to speak, green with envy.

I could write for hours; I could write for minutes
she caresses his silky hair,
his **** hardens in class, and he leaves for cake.
He made enough moves on me, I saw them as they fumbled
limbs are too long for grace, for lies
brain is too tall for truths,
and the belt around her neck tightens in winter, like words ringing in your ears
as you walk out of the movie theatre.
It's true, now feel it.

His nose is long, his hair is skin calling through the television in 1993,
when he saw a new light like heaven opening up
but it was just a practical joke,
he's stuck on the stairway, no way up
no way down.
****
****!
****
who can he call? he left his phone at home with his eyes.
All he feels are feathers and minutes--
long, dreary minutes.
Finally a taxi comes, but he left his wallet.

Time passes more quickly than he counted on;
he's not ready to leave, he's not important yet,
not coherent, clairvoyant.
**** humans, **** the world, he doesn't deserve it's kind of behavior,
but as soon as the clock is fixed
God will let him up. He has no doubt, no dreams
just fingers shaped like leggos.
He was a comedian with serious jokes, the kind that
made you weep solid tears and ice cubes.
The wives of men would watch him and frown,
thinking of how much money to slide under their sheets
for when they grabbed their kids from the shops and left their husbands.
Too much mess.
No sunlight.
Empty corners.
Fur coats.

****, your here again.
you're to weak for here.
you just follow, you never listen.
since you're here, you have to stay near.
babe, listen get behind me.
they are coming.
run away, don't let the demons see.
make sure, you keep humming.
run run away.
please never return.
ever especially today.
for if you do your soul will burn.
i look at the demon.
its eyes so dark.
its harsh howl.
its tainted mark.
i shudder at its growl
it swings its arm.
its razor claws.
cut me, causes me harm.
its strong and fast,but it still has its flaws.
the demon smells my blood.
it sniffs at the air.
thoughts in its head begin to flood.
i silently draw my blade, with the evermost care.
it moves again.
its gaurd falls.
as it moves in.
i think for a second, as if time stalls.
in an instant its there.
i point, my blade leads.
it wraps a lock tight snare.
i feel the warmth as it bleeds.

When we used to go to the same supermarket,
I would watch you pick out fruit
and buy the same kind.
I felt close. I felt like maybe someday you would notice
and say something like,
"I've always loved you," or "I like blueberries, too."

I can imagine your face
lingering between blueberries and raspberries,
the teetering glance you gave to each price,
and even the way you opened each carton gently,
as if it were a precious music box,
and tasted the slow, sweet juice of each berry.

When we used to go to the same movies, I would sit near you,
imitate your reactions.
I only wished I could come closer,
and maybe touch your hand.
Your eyes made me wish I was on the screen.

When we slept in the same bed,
I held you tight enough to scare you.
You said let me go,
but I couldn't. I won't. I didn't.

You gave me AIDS.

I knocked on your door at 3 AM because I was cold,
but you let me inside for different reasons.
I was wearing my mother's jacket and perfume
and I think you thought I was her,
but my lips are fuller and my hands are harder.
I felt your smile and you felt mine,
and you told me about being gone
so we left.

I held a whirlwind of your emotions in my hand
and it was the first time I'd felt so much
without even moving.
You asked me to throw them, but I couldn't do it,
so I put them in my coat pocket and cried without telling you.
There was something you whispered to me
at half past six that is sitting in that pocket, too,
but I just can't bring myself to look for it.

And the whole time I was waiting for you to hit me;
I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't her.
In the passion of your memories
you would grab my hand and shake it,
the weird part was that I let you, I didn't protest.

You were kind at 9 AM when I left because I was warm,
but you pushed me out the door for reasons I don't understand.
Maybe because I wasn't her,
or maybe you just needed your sleep--
but I am content with a pocket full of your emotions and memories,
and you are content being alone.

From lip to lip your secrets transfer,
sincerely, I am sorry for kissing so much.
Love is sitting somewhere behind my teeth,
cordially waiting, legs crossed and hands folded.
Your friend reached down my throat.
Respectfully, it didn't even feel good.

Thank you for the blame and pointed fingers.
Take care to clip your nails where I don't dream and
write soon of some excellent ****** endeavors, for
my best regards are long gone, along with
yours.
I miss you when we hate each other.

Wishing the best of every moment is childish,
thinking of you is even more so. But somehow we
always seem to sleep in each other's arms.

All the coins in your pockets,
everything I've ever given you.
in the washer
in the dryer
burning in the back yard,
like those notes,
and the pictures.
subconscious attempts to hurt you
the attempts of escaping everyone else: equally beautiful
until you looked away.

Don’t leave things alone for too long
or they'll begin to rot.
It took three years for you to give up,
and now your over bite clenches onto your bottom lip.
It looks painful,
but you're always so calm.

I can never tell where you are.

I feel ridiculous asking you questions
that I already know the answers to,
but I can't help it:
I love to hear your voice.

When you came home drenched,
spinning dizzy,
you laid down as I gazed at the wreck that laid before me.
You were in another world, and I didn’t want to follow.
Your golden feet could take you anywhere your heart imagined.
(I guess that was part of the jealously).

I want you to tell me about your childhood,
learn what made you the way you are.

Back to the photographs:
You looked so fragile,
so small, (breakable).

When I saw you cry for the first time,
the comfort in your grasp gave me the confidence
not to panic.
I stared at the bruises on your body,
knowing they would never heal,
knowing that you liked it that way.

I know you never understood how special you were,
that you never would.
I was scared of the things I knew,

I knew I had to leave
before you woke up, and,
walking with the faint shadow
of sleep behind my ears,
itching at my scalp
from the inside:
I took notice of your car,
and the bird **** on your windshield
                                                   reminded me that we were the same.