as I try to find myself-
in between these shots-
you jam your key into my temple.

Although I Helplessly Squirm

you

are

relentless.

our bodies fit(    your breathing
lockingin2-1   .breathhhonmy
another so      neck draws (  to
p. r. e. c.      ME IN you ) ouT.
i. s. e. l. y.     Time. is /running
it’s -HARD-   out/ everysinglu
to-take-them    larbreathhh cou
a    p   a            ntsd        10
    r             t              o 9        8
) …buti                w     TicK.
ca              7                  n
               nts            6       5
ta                  4
                 y,                        3
s            o        r           2       To
   r                           cK.
          
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                  y/

It rained all year here

In this little nowhere

Where we gorged ourselves

On instant gratification

you called me lovely

And I called you a liar

Because my soul was too bitter

And you could not get inside

I could say that I’m sorry

But you’d call me hypocrite

Calling a bluff that

In apathy lay

Dark murky air hangs low
over grimy, slick asphalt.
The stale air thick with heady perfume,
every corner dripping with ****** frustration.
Down, through dismal, dark alleyways,
each click of her heels holds a feeling of self importance.
Like a Broadway star’s bold steps –
But life is not a cabaret.

A mysterious energy dances
on the biting edge of the wind,
smelling of car exhaust and
carrying with it a feeling –
the sweet feeling of glamour.
Thrill of broken bottles,
beer soaked clothes,
lonely desperation.

Tousled dark hair,
filled with glitter from the night before,
a cloud of intoxicating whisky scent
heavily laden over her shoulders.
Through her jaded, glassy eyes
She sees only darkened shades of gray.
The neon signs flicker –
like a beacon of faltering hope.

As she pulls the last cigarette from her pack
The ruin floods into her veins.
Stumbling through the streets,
Fuming colors flash by,
Their images leaving imprints
in her tender, bruised, mind.

Surrounded by a dark shroud –
Silhouettes of black, grey, brown;
a dreary collage,
Accented only by the bright lights,
flashing signs,
and endless advertisements.

She notices the familiar,
The grounding,
The taste of the nicotine on her tongue,
Another poison laced drag,
Warming her from her numb complacency.

She tried to escape her lonely heart and empty bed –
Looking for love in the abandoned, crumbling buildings
plastered with
lights, success and fame.
Yet there they are,
Haunting every step,
Delicately tapping out her tale of heartbreak.
This was her new life in the spectacular New York City –
The beautiful land of decay.

With their necks and hair and noses
fancy chairs
           hams hips, laughs.
Voices sque-

a sudden movement
rushing, racing sand
smashing
crashing
peppering the audience

-aghast

shocking,

tragedy.

It was so pretty too.

With their necks and hair and noses
fancy chairs
          hams hips, less laughter
Voices still squeaking

They walk out doors and into cars
and back into reality.

You try and piece together your
rather simple thoughts…
and string them through my brain,
Fragments of things
festering, old
and altogether unattractive.
decorated and decomposing,
my skull aches.

By blackened tables
my blackened lungs
will cough a cry,
a call of blood
for visions past
and time now slowed;
a head of smoke
and hands of crow.
A field of hay
and ever green
when harvest's full
a child's dream
bestowed upon
the crowning heir;
a head of smoke
and hands of air.