sometimes I wonder
what might happen
if the night sky
turns red

sometimes I wonder
how much better
I'd write
if I weren't on
my meds

circumstances
& slight of sanity
may perpetually
prevent it

but you can make
the damnedest
certain
the flames in those fields
will finally be
lit

maybe the storms
will awaken
what within me
is dead

& sometimes I wonder
what might happen
if the night sky
turns red

these days I
find myself trying
to remember
how to
burn


efficiently,


with an air of
almost seeming like
it was my
turn

but sleep supersedes
& when neglected
can impede

one's ability to
spark


so how did you
find me in
that deep, hollow
dark?


was it the left
second star?

was it the glow of my
smoldering cigar?

or was it the signal flare
I lit on top of that cop's car?

sometimes it takes the
smallest flames
to see

your fire is never as far
as it seems
to be


so on the second star
we'll meet;  
pass the cigar to
the beat
of all the squad cars
burning in the
street



& maybe just maybe
one day we can
live inside of our own

heat

come what, may?

it's that swallow of
guilt I can't help
but stomach;

it's the galaxy of rain drops
on the pre-dawn
painted window scene

& it's that look I
I know I'm being
given from miles and miles
& miles far
away

they've all settled
underneath my
skin

& everything that I
feel and fear
bears the burden of
a future sin
when all either wanted
was to just let the
other in

maybe I'm afraid of
the ever-fleeting
folly

maybe I'm afraid of me

but I can't seem to
help but rest my
tired bones
inside such a gentle
reprieve

"kudos to those who see
through sickness,
yeah..."

is this the final
exigency
I've so desperately
sought?

or am I still
writhing in the hell
of a life
& a love that was
for naught?


I called out caution
to the waves
& they called to me:


"may, come what?"

perhaps I was
always seeing it
in dreams;

in perpetual motion;
in the color of her
cheeks as she told me
goodbye.

‘cause I never
caught it in the lines
that curved around her
brows when she
told me what
hurt

& where

& when

& why



maybe it was somewhere
written in the
sky

or coded in her
fingertips
as she brushes the
hair from my
eyes


I wondered if she could
tell that I was
high


& that all of this dream
within a dream
would soon be ours in

𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

sorry

I'm

s
       p
             l
                    i
                         t
                  t  
           i    
      n          
  g                  

& I don't know
what that
means

.
.
.

to know me is
to know
I will probably never
make it through all 30
of these prompts

𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺

to know me is
to know
I don't feel much regret
for those kinds of
things these
days

to know me is
to know I will always make
"the best of it," no matter
the depths of life's
intermittent
cuts

but...

to know me is
to know
an open wound;

to know the hell
I have survived
& continue to

to know that I bear it --
not with pride,
but with a vengeful tenacity

to know that in time
it will heal,
& with stunning vivacity

to know me is
to know

a cut will not ever
be the way that I
go

it's 5 am on a tuesday
late november
& cold as
hell

another day

a few hours ago I was
informed by message that
my father was
dead

another so it goes.

we weren't close but my
older siblings are pretty upset
I somehow saw it
& felt it would be swift

another altar candle

the only grief I have is for
my family.
my sister and brother's guilt over not
doing more hit too close

another "same as it ever was"

.
.
.
.
.

I gave up the
ghost of my pencil
for a few months
to try
& practice a bit
of the art of
sanity

with a few dashes
of subtlety

my dreaming palace
will not climb
any stairs
today

& his lips will be
as soft as when
I know that I’ll be
lonely

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘦
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢

the search of true
summer

with his heart on my
bare sleeve…

yeah, I lived in a
supernova
once.

there weren’t as many
stars as I would
have liked to
imagined

but the parties
were great
& you could leave
whenever you
wanted


I think I stayed because
no one really
saw me


I left once I got
tired of
solving puzzles in
the dark

the sky was red
with your
fury

when you thought
it wouldn’t
show

the night made it
seem snowy
if you tilted your
sight at
the proper angle


the train down the
avenue
moved so hauntingly
between the
trees


& I couldn’t find
your soul this
time

she lives for the days when
she doesn’t mind
the wind through her hair
or when he was always
in the way

just a few nights
prior
he had twisted her wrist
& she’ll never recall
why

she would freeze this stage
with her heart if she
only could
just to find that tiny scratch
of leeway for
the missing nap
& untouched presentation

of where is my old motivation?

you are pretty with your
words, sir
but ugly with your touch
& tone

now hand me that feather-tip pen
& I’ll write you a
new one

life is cold outside
& my breath is
pure winter

pure inspiration
pure intrigue

with every yawn
is intensity
& uncomforting vibrancy

but I must push through


ｂｒｅａｔｈｅ
ｂｒｅａｔｈｅ
ｂｒｅａｔｈｅ


the lights are all
dancing


& they’ve yet to
teach me
how

eventually you’ll see
the side
of taking scissors to
conversation

lovely languages of
instance
& small talk you won’t
ever recall

no need for such
concern;
she’s no longer bitter
but she can’t help
a smile
at just how very unhappy
he must be

strangers give embrace to
her intuition
& she’d prefer to stay on
the same page
but only for this day

if he takes time to talk
to her wings
perhaps they might
grow

but only under his clever
guidance
& unmasked, ruthless
tongue

when will they learn to
love with their unbridled,
innate charm?

he’s a cannibal of
his own colors
& she’s just a renegade
paramour

you are my constant


my only constant


you keep me living


although I may be livid


you might not see, dear


just what we’re here for


so don’t watch me waste


another beautiful day

little to no progress
has been made
& she’s craving all the things
she isn’t supposed to
crave

like a quart of rosato
& a bottle of
vicodin

she does not bless this mess
& her only resolution
is to **** it up
even more

what happened to
summer camp
& only caring about
jesus and
three lane super
slides?

she stole the last drop
of raspberry
& it stung her throat
turned her lips to flames

yet
it was still so sweet

how can there be such an
air of serenity in
this place
when in her heart there
is nothing but
turmoil?

only three pills to last
the weekend
& she doesn’t want
any of them

but they’re the only
substitute
for life at this
moment


she is low
again


a dangerous, dangerous
kind of low

take this contraband
as a form of her
enchantment

she has given so much
more away than
that of what you could
never prove

injustice is all she eats
with her coffee
& you stopped waiting to see
if you still needed to
shut the door

you don’t need to be
a recollection
when she can be your most
treasured mistake


& they all seem to make those
in your honor,
don’t they?

they got her dreams upstairs
in time
for an honest redecoration

& she never felt
just how lonely the
day would be
until she saw the
definition

now she’s filling
voids
& taking names
for granted in her brutal
anticipation for
warmth;


on a cool summer’s
breath


they all saw this coming,
but the dosage was
incorrect

so they burn and they burn
while she sails
& fails once more to
connect


to a cool summer’s
breath

been another while;
suppose it was about time
I came back to the inevitable
keyboard turnstile

to the blank space that awaits
the usually worthless
words tumbling out
of this head


& ray liotta is dead


spent a week with my oregon lover
sans one kidney these days
happiest we’ve been
in months;
but the stride back to
reality we must
obey

we both lost our jobs
& an *****,
we’ve scars to prove
the fact

but he lucked out with no
utilities, no rent
& I’m left with those and
three stressed out
cats

& the kids are leaving the
upstairs flat

it’s hard to have hope in this
capitalist world
where the gas prices soar
& the billionaires hoard

it's hard to see a good future
when I’m
an unstable *** bore

the love and the storms
are what keep me
going
when all else seems
so tremendously bleak

& I pray lady luck lends
down her warm
embrace

to give us the life that we
desperately seek


but ****, was it a good *******
week

the drugs wore off;
the tears came and they
won't stop
& I have to hold my stomach in
or it sears in pain with
every sob


what apt timing to be
left in the dust

what apt timing for you to
do what you believe
you must


never thought I'd have
to search for
how much ativan and norcos
I can take before I'm
on the floor

but here we are
& here I am

as you stare at that beautiful ocean


& I try to keep these
stitches from bleeding into
my hands.

I could make up some aesthetic intro
about how the rain is falling
& how the air tastes
but they’ve read it all at least
a thousand times,
at least.

it’s “spring” in Kansas and it’s rainy
& cold as **** for May
not much poetic about it unless
you’re like Shirley Manson
I guess
storms used to terrify me but
now I adore them;
transient and full of intensity
& beautifully


unpredictable


I haven’t really tried to write in so long
I had to force myself to pry open
the dusty laptop --
only because I knew I’d be too impatient
putting thoughts with pen
onto paper

I get why Buk relied on his typewriter
I just wish I had his mental fortitude to write
through complete writer’s block
at the edge of my
wit’s end

the world has not improved, as we kind of
all suspected
the supreme court is dipping their toes
into overturning roe. vs. wade

& all in the midst of the worst inflation
I’ve ever seen
(and a formula shortage)
it’s all a stage and we’ve all been
the puppets for years

but the fourth wall is coming down,
albeit slowly.



I wonder what he would have had to say about it.

enough, I’m sure.

most people worry when the
lump hits their
throat


I'm the one who feels
the knot in her
chest first

'cause it's all I can do
before things get
much worse

& the waves just keep crashing
in the devil's churn of
this ******
curse


you've blended in with
the woods again
& I still don't know the
next time I'll get
to touch your
skin


but what a beautiful sin
to wait for


the airport is quiet in the back
of concourse e
& I still see your face
as you said
goodbye to me


the edibles and mimosas
could never be as
sweet


so I'll hide the taste beneath
my tongue

until yet again
we meet




tá mé i ngrá leat

it's the boss battle
& the world has left me
ill-equipped

another Saturday Syndrome
where I chase a bottle
to quiet the brain
but I can't stir the silence
in my own domain
& it's so deafening I cannot
breathe

is this what it's like to be
punished and free?
is this what it's like to
sit chained before the sea?


I promised myself


I wear my headphones
in the bar
but I can still hear the desperation
in the voices from afar

we are all low on ammunition
& I've got no spare cash for
the right kind of
ambition


I promised myself


I'm just crossing fingers
& wishing on spilled
eyelashes

that maybe, just
maybe
I'll be far *******
past this



I promised myself it wouldn't
be me

maybe I belong
somewhere amongst the
digits of stars
that rest above where you
sleep at night


maybe I am fortune's fright


maybe I burn too fast
for these plights

but baby, what I wouldn't give


to see you in that
light

untold riches
sold by the pound

you tucked them within
your shirt sleeve
& I never made
a sound

it's just too cold for a
heart so bold
& all these missed
advances
make me feel all the
more this old


wait


wait for me
by the crossroads
wearing only your bare
brazen skin

& I'll help you to
remember
all the hell that we

lived in.

most I see these days are
heartless;
while there are some I see
who have given up
on their heart


what a sorrowful sight


for eyes already
sore

the river made the air
so much colder as she stood
on the bridge
the kind of cold you need
when you are

this numb

there exists an ethereal beauty
sewn into the bleak canvas
of the winters here

but she's spent so much time
in this place
that the place has spent her
with it

& she's misplaced all the
colors she needs to
add life


she clutches to black
as it seeps into
her palm

& says "not yet, death...


'tis the storm
before the
calm."

I feel as if I am perpetually
reaching for things that
are never there

like stars
that have long since changed shape
or died
like conversations
that have long since changed pace
or died
like people
that have long since changed face
or died


there is no home left here for me


but I’d sewn myself into
the ground
just to grow the strength to feel
safe
& now this whole ******
devil town
grins pertinacious
in my attempt
to escape


did you see it, too?


the sick, sad smiles
of the vacant

& the blue?

I'll float
& not soar
I won't sing, but I'll roar
& you won't know much about me
but you'll wish you
knew me
more

it's mad season here
& the trolley's
on fire;
her follies were not
strong enough
to keep the car on
the wire

the paintings have
chipped,
much akin to her
mentality
all senses long
since flown
as she broke from
her reality

"it's hell here on
this earth,"
she whispered to
the storm
but on it raged
& on it raged
with no hope yet to
be formed


& she could never quite
forget about
Mars

"the lightning may strike,
my love;
but someday it will all
be ours."

I can't help but to
lend a bit of
laughter
to the things that try
to ****;
the things that try
to deliver
me to my maker in
bows
& ribbons

little do they know
for thirteen years I've
competed heavily against
them

& I always aim to
win

but still they come, the
trials and the errors
lilting one by two
by four
by twelve

they wait for me when I
am weak
& my demon takes
the helm

I can never escape
the swell

the raging, burning tide
she laughs now,
edging towards the
shore

& all that aches inside
my blood
could never sate her
more

and I pray and I pray
and I pray and I pray
and I pray
just to get up
from this *******
floor

something about how the day
hovered above
& around; it
perched
upon her shoulder


jaded comes as jaded grows
much more so when
you're older, the
vultures ever
closer
than she could be
to his breast

god, why can't she
put this ****
to rest?!


this sick sick
sad sad thing
living deep inside
her chest

"if you've ever
stepped out into
the sunlight
& felt it trying to
bring you to
life
& you sensed the
kiss of it on the
edge of your shoulder,
yet still did not
react

you've lived a similar pain as I

"& if you close your eyes
does it always
seem like
nothing's changed at all"
if you've ever felt
your organs writhe in pain
with every day that follows
a hard night
& swim right back to
the bottle again

you've been dealt a similar hand as I

& if you've ever loved
so intensely
to see that love built
its own pyre
& lit itself ablaze;

leaving
you with the
ashes


you might not have survived either

if you watch closely;
cautiously,
it all simmers deep into
the knife
& the chalice
you can only compel
the limbs that still long
to be held
without consequence
of malice

& oh, how it still simmers
in you, baby.

we lay our weapons
down as our
kisses melt to frowns
to wonder if we just might
need them, maybe

can we control that path?
can we trim up all
the edges
to avoid the ****** bath?

you plot your grave
far from my skin
& my armor is too small
for a heart so
flushed with sin

when will we raise the
shield again?
for yet, my love...


I cannot let you
win.

the clock looms above me
& ticks into my
blood

they say when you feel
"empty"
you should have
another one

but when fortune would
not have me,
fate took me by
my hand

they said when you feel
"empty"
you should find a place
to land

but fate's intangible
grasp; it tricked
me--
led me down a
cursed path

they whispered if you're
"empty"
you should use some of
that wrath

now I stay inside my
chamber
pleading, sobbing for
love lost

they say when you feel
"empty"
you're probably paying
a cost

but I still sing into
the autumn wind;
my soul its
melody


I said I feel so
"empty"

dear gods please
just let me
be.

when I went to New Orleans last year I
visited the Voodoo Museum.
aside the lobby that had an area for
tarot/palm/misc. readings.

while I waited to pay for a mojo bag
filled with herbs and blessed for
protection and power;
a man walks in.

he looked like hell.

he rang for the reader
& she let him in.
they seemed familiar with each other.
I could just faintly hear him
beyond the curtain.

"I got the worms. I can feel them. they're all inside me!"

she then began to discuss remedies
& all I could think was,
"this must be a show." the privacy curtain
didn't conceal their conversation.

it wasn't until much later,
closer to recently,
that I began to realize...

...the worms are very real.

& they eat us from
the inside out.

I remember reading Bukowski writing through his own writer's block.


that's the kind of talent
I hope to achieve but any true writer knows the hell that this state
really is.

a concatenation of phrases roll
around in my head
& I can't put them together.
I cannot make them
flow.


were they
overwatered
or are they just failing to
thrive?

she was ignited;
ready for a break in the glass
a flourish in the grass
& a fire that
lasts

what truly is a
revolution
when it all comes
full circle in
the end?

she sat and thought
of change as
seasons -- the way
fields are burned to
allow for new
growth --
as she picked the
dead leaves
from her rose-colored
hair
& wondered why the
life she had never
felt like it was
there


so she lit a match and
kissed the flame;

she left her wishes to
the air

gonna be a long night.
I'm going to enjoy it, too.
I want the sweet to soar above the bitter.
I want to spread love
& leave the lingering taste of it
on everyone's breath

another chapter ends
tonight
& it's my choice not
to end it in minor
key


ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ　ｈｏｎｅｙ， ｙｏｕ
ｍｅａｎｔ　ａ　ｌｏｔ
ｔｏ　ｍｅ


& I love that you always
seem to go right where you
need to be

so go
& I'll hold onto
what lingers
when you leave

but you can still remember me
in lo-fi beats
& pale blue dreams.

I wish it were as simple
as butterflies--
to create your own
cocoon; turn to
jelly while dreaming
& awake anew
brighter and more powerful
than before

but here I am


same as it ever was

there are two
condemned bridges
that somehow still
exist
way out in the
Kansas sticks

I've slept on
one
& died on the
other
the first holds
my roots
& the second
my lover

on a dare I was told
to jump
but I clung to
the iron rim
when he was dared
to jump, he did;

but he couldn't swim


now my urge
to dive
only clings to me
on whims

until phantom limbs
clutch my collar
& tell me no
again

& again


& again.

there exists in me
these reveries
that flutter ‘round
my bones
like the last time
you were in
my bed
& the first time we
were alone

your voice is
ripe
& it murmurs deep your
solemn sultry song;
it’s one I long to keep
before forever
turns too
long

I see your face
within his
smile
& your will within
his wit
he inherited your
heart of
gold
& being
a little ****

you find me in
your sunsets
in wisps of incense
smoke
you found me screaming
on the floor
the day I heard
you broke



I’ll love you in
your fire breaths
in creepy YouTube
videos
I’ll hold you deep
inside my chest
each Rick & Morty
episode

Davy will love
you in Pokemon
niche
& the Pikachu hat
that was saved
but the greatest thing
he’ll ever own
was the love for him
you gave

she lured him into
longing
she had him paint
her feet
it was all a ruse
she crafted to ensure
her ends would
meet

but this male-form
Cinderella -- built strong
& Southern sweet
held her slippers as
she stumbled drunk into
the street

he held her close those
****** nights
when she'd lost all
her teeth
he picked up all her
broken parts
& turned them into
wreaths

"we each have our
own path,"
he said on acid
at the lake
so she dug a trail
in the sand
& lent her hand for him
to take

oh, what passion
left within their
wake
enough for the gods
to tremble and
shake
as they sigh and
they moan
& they bend and
they break
may the earth dance
in tremors
from the love that
they make


& the seasoned girl
smiles
with her shiny new
grin
at the boy who had
lured her
into loving once
again

she fell too
fondly into fortune's
sweet dreaming
& sequestered us
to the cold

that toybox heart
birthed and bred from
clay
was left out far
too long to
mold

& the flies began to
take hold


there exists a
stark contrast between
what is deemed
brave
& what's bold

they say she'll fight
fate just not to
fold

you'd never believe it,
baby but those
tears?



they're solid
gold.

some days I dream this
place vacant
so there's room for us
to waltz

some days I can't help
but feel that I'm
at fault

for more than what
I gave you in
a look

honey, you read
me by the
book

& I'm too lonely to let go
of all I know in time
will turn to
ashes

but we're much too
far gone past
this

so I'll dream
& you'll dream and
we'll both never
sleep

& maybe someday you'll
find me there
just in
time


to swim with me in
the deep

I want a man
who chooses to
hold conversation
using only the power
of his eyes

& I want to call it
mine

I want a man
who picks wildflowers
to stick them
within the ribbon on
my long-brimmed
black hat

& I want him as my
habitat

I want a man
who creeps up to
kiss my neck as I wash
dishes, singing of
magic

& I want to bathe in
the static

but

I want a man
who doesn't stare into
my fierce gaze to tell
me he doesn't want
to leave
this ******* bar,
but he does anyway

& I want to break his
casual sway

I want a man
who doesn't twist my
heart to turn my
head around
when I know **** well
he's already gone

& I want jukebox bitter
songs

I want a man
who doesn't remind me
that hope is a
dangerous thing to
have

& I want what I can
never


I came long enough
to see the
truth

I left soon enough
to know it isn't
you.

midsummer rain
wept onto the
tall grass
that hid all of what
we knew
was haunting us

his breath graced
my neck
& I melted and molded
into a barefoot
slow dancer
on a hardwood porch

as if he'd laced something
into
his sigh

they say poison
inhibits
a rational mind

but they tell you that
you should have
known better


than to allow your
soul
to unwind

the sky was red with
your pain
when you thought it
wouldn't show
you tried so hard to
reach out to me
& my god,
I didn't know

I'd fight Him just to go
back to that May
in the center
of my living room;
on that very
last day
I'd give anything to
change the tune...
of when you begged me
to let you stay


honey, this cannot be
the way

to ever wish you
happy birthday


but it sinks into
my skin
just as our son's eyes
do when he gleams
your inherited
grin

of why life was a choice
for you
I will never
comprehend

but I'll hope you're
forever proud
of us
& the way we've
kept our
end


until we meet
again

"lady jupiter
sin to my dying flesh
a blessing to my spiritual life

I saw you first
wearing neptune blues
you called me closer
to keep pluto away
cracked out crust he was

you handle storms
tell the shadows screams
then your emblem strikes
acid rain of pain
falling on folly
strengthens terrorizing terry
which is your crust!

mr. mars, a gentle diamond
an aries you know
his fire, lady jupiter
misunderstood
a fire not red and orange
it is burning blues

how so to be
a brighter flame
like a sunlit snow
his flame a crust and core
evaporates lady jupiter's
acid rain
outshines
her shadow's screaming storms

tough enough to handle
her emblem's lightning strike."

born under a spring moon
one might be quite surprised
that his sun sings an aries tune
‘cause you can’t see it in his eyes

& his hands are far too gentle
for such a raging fire sign
his voice too sentimental
to be temperamentally aligned

he speaks about the years to come
as if Scripture had set it in stone
yet I’d always felt life’s beating drum
persuade me to just die alone

I suppose the future will speak for its own
if the stubborn miss jupiter can be overthrown

"the world is
a conveyor
belt"

mentality has stricken
with force
today
& I'm struggling
to cope


we could all be
packed like
sardines;
destination: incinerator


& I would still feel
more alone
than I ever have
in my life