tears in front of
the ancestors' tomb
again

you'd think at
twenty-eight
I'd learned all my
lessons
but Lynn & Gretta's
littlest girl
lost the chips she thought
she'd win

stuck between an atrophied,
near-calcified heart
& a hard place
good lord,
she's still fighting to
salvage face

to keep her name

but all these pitfalls
are none but hers
to blame

never a gambler


but ever still playing
the game

go.
clear the drawers of
all the compartments
you constructed
from scratch that were never
stable enough
to hold purpose

clear my taste from your
devil tongue
while I attempt to burn your sea-fared
gaze from my sight

the gaze that still lingers
in dreams
& seeks to pull the life
out of me

know, soul seeker
this is not a war you
will ever win
& one I cannot afford
to lose

your reckoning
will come
whether or not I aid
in its cause

I can only hope I'm
around to witness the flames
surround those
ocean eyes

I am no longer captivated
by this element
of surprise
I foresaw it within your
sea storm eyes
the crystal clarity only
assisted
but don't you dare get
it twisted

my veins course with
resistance
in this the game where
the rule book is
laden
with blank pages
love, I swore we left
our cages
& traded them for
passion
but no one taught you
how to ration


& I'll still melt within
your smile
if you'll still mold within
my wild

it's too ******* hot
in this tavern
& I'm the designated
poet laureate
that had no time to
adequately pregame

there are too
many angels in this
devil sky today
it's like beckoning
a barter
for just a *******
breath

I can hear Satan's
laughter over
Eric Clapton
but it no longer
shakes my
soul
I've seen inside that one
& I know better
yet I remain none
the wiser

the tiny staple
placed upon
the geyser
& this hell on earth
knows just where
the blood will
likely flow
unto the depths of
these rock-laden
pearls
& all of
what we were granted
to be gifted

& *******
*******
fuuuuuck you
for being so chauvinistically
nonchalant
I am your forgotten
paid for shot
of Tuaca
your half-smoked
cigarette
on the edge of the
patio table

I am hell
in suburban purest
form

lady luck deleted
& blocked me
like all the others
& I can't see her posts
any longer
we'd become distant
for some time
now

I find my comfort
in dimly lit
spaces
& bottles of hard
liquor
with occasional love
affairs with
men
who can't be bothered
to be held
down
they all float down
here
in the land of all
the disillusioned
& unenchanted
it's a rough go of it,
Georgie
& it ain't getting better
from here

I'd be Edward Elric
give an arm
& leg
to pull you from
the grave
& ask why you
went away
but it wouldn't be
the same
they only come back
when the audience
least expects
never when you
beg and beg
when you claw your
nails into the
carpet where you last
embraced
every time you start
to lose your
head

because you said we
were going to do
this together
& I didn't *******
believe you

all ******* in a
gaze of satin
my god, does he know
what's happened?
& the tide is
rushing in

am I the sea or
the one who
waits beside it?

hell and heaven both
know that I'd
rather be a siren
dancing with graves
& secondhand glances
as I sing him toward
my waves


perhaps I was not meant
to save


so to hell with the sea
it's his fire that
I crave

your hand grips
mine
in the desert night
& I have to
count
how many times
you've led me
down this
line

the law need not
banish you,
love
as you, yourself
have done

but the fickle
rain
& this sordid game
can't wash what
has
become

oh, anything of nothing
first create

why must you scavenge
all my love
& pay me back with
hate?

the late season tortures
with cold breath
& kisses weary
bones

wherefore art thou,
cast to
hell's depth,
who slew my weakened
soul?


I'll keep your
grip
as you keep mine
along our sullied
stroll


but I've half a
mind
to prove how
time
can truly take its
toll