swear a lot
yell with the loudest voice
take control of the media
make very loud and convincing claims that everyone is a racist, bigoted, hatemonger
dodge every question that has a "yes or no" answer

congrats
you just won the votes of the ignorant idiots of America.

I wish there was a bar
Where you could pay other people to drink your problems

Away.

they beat on us
for holding up a light

they tear at us
for doing what is right

but fear not, my love.

darkness is not a keeper of light
(they will be driven away)

I’ll have you know that I only dream in purple now
            And that the only flowers I can smell are yellow roses
            That leave my eyes wondering why the daylight went out
                                                            Why the rays went dry and cracked across the petals
                                                            Why it isn’t special anymore

I’ll have you know that I took an Alka-Seltzer tablet for my heartburn
            And that the knot in my stomach is so large now
            I don’t remember if I’m tongue-tied or not
            There is too much to speak of
So I’m quiet now
Trying to swallow the orange juice you gave me when I’d just finished brushing my teeth

I’ll have you know that my eyes crinkle when I am happy
            Especially when the sky is so bright that even your smile can’t outshine it
And I know you dislike how ugly I look when I grin like that
            So I’ve been trying so very hard lately to crinkle my potato chips instead
                        To save for the night when we’re finally outside
                        Alone with the Moon as our chaperone
                        He, there to make sure that I wouldn’t shine brighter than him
                                    The Moon is jealous in that way, I think
                        And if I wore yellow like you’d like me to
                                    He’d retreat behind the clouds and blush
                                    Because he remembers the way the sun used to dance like that
                                    And he would miss her a little, I think

But anyways,
            I’m saving the crinkled potato chips cooked in sunflower oil just for you
            In the pockets of my very simple sundress
            For that night when we’re finally outside

And I’d toss them at you in the moment I was happiest,
I’d look most beautiful then
And those are my least favorite kind

Knowing they’d bounced off your shoulder would make them taste lovelier, somehow
            So I’d eat the whole bag as a midnight snack
            Dancing by the light of your smile with my arms outstretched
            Inviting the Man in the Moon to lick the salt from my fingers…

And when he wouldn’t
            Well
                        I’d notice, then
                        I’d gaze into the sockets of his pock-marked face
Feeling quite foolish and child-like
                        Staring blankly at my own crinkled, chipped hands
And trying so very hard not to weep
                        I’d retreat and rest my cheek against your neck
Asking very quietly who cut out his tongue
                        And how long the wolf has howled for him

My shallow breathing would crack your eardrums
                        But at least I would know you were listening
At least you would finally understand
That the sunflower petals were shriveling up in your hands
                        And if you tossed them at me, they would be fuller, somehow
                                   And yellow again just for you

I’ll have you know that I can’t remember my favorite things anymore
                        And though I’ve squeezed my short-term memory so hard it’s cracked down the middle,
                        I’ll never remember why the only flowers I like are white roses
                        Or why you consistently make my dreams taste purple and frothy
                        Like a swelling tongue that puts my stomach in knots that even Alka-Seltzer won’t
dissolve

I’ll have you know that I’ve awoken so many times
To wring the neck of a withering image,
That I’m gagging on the thorns I never noticed in my sundress pockets
Mixed with those crinkled potato chips I’ve been crushing to toss at you
            In the moment that I am most happiest
            And we find ourselves outside of the dream
                                                That I never want to live

I'm a poet tree
Water me down to the roots
Carve your name into the bark

I am never leaving
I'll stretch my roots as far as my soul will let me
I'll reach for the sun

(But promise me you'll be there in the shade)

a shell of a man sat in a cavern by the beach
barely willing to breathe
and he watched as the fishermen in their boats went by
deep inside he would let out a sigh,
"if only my father had taught me how to fish
and we had been wealthy and had servants to dish
up our food
then i would not be sitting here in rags

i would be in a nice little house with a pretty lady and we would have three children or four
if i had the money, perhaps we'd have more
but, alas, i cannot

i am poor and this will never change."
with what little he had, he fed that rage
he sat for days
begged for food from the passersby
they brought him shrimp, which he claimed was too dry
"and these scallops do not have enough salt.
yes.  everyone else is at fault."

with an upturned nose he'd cry 'bout his lot
his body was famished but his pride was not
it grew and reared its head like a lion
all while the leftover food would go flying
in tempter tantrums of rage
because his lot would never change
he loved his pride more than his own head
so he fed the lion of pride instead.

one day, a man (new to the town) saw him sitting in the cavern as people gave him food
the man, as usual, in a sour mood.
the new man had never seen anything quite like it before.

"Why," he asked himself, "I'll be darned if this man has never been taught how to use a net.  If I be a man of God, I ought to teach this poor fellow what he'll never forget.  I shall go out in the morning and teach him how to fish."

True to his word, the man was there the next morning before the sun peaked, while the corpse-like body of the man was fast asleep.

"Good morning, sir."  Said the man, shining his lantern into the cavern.
No answer.
"Good morning.
I am Cornelius.  I saw you yesterday being helped by the people of the town, and I could not help but want to show you how to get around.  Teach you to fish, how to make it a dish, I would even let you steer the ship.  How would you like that?  If I teach you, it shan't take longer than a month, and you'd get money to get you out of this slump.  Why, any employer would love to hire you on if you could figger it out and show some brawn.  You would earn more than enough to eat.  Could even buy yourself some nice new sheets.  Perhaps build a home, wouldn't have to be alone.  Find yourself a wife and have a happy life.  Would you like that, sir?"
There was silence for a moment, and the voice from the bed of rock and seaweed mumbled, "It is far too early for me to be awake."
Cornelius said, "Why, sir, there is no reason not to be awake right now.  I am offering you a day on the sea, I won't let you down.  Some people pay money for that, they do.  I haven't much time, I need to know if you'll come, too."
The mumbled voice, "I haven't any shoes, I could get splinters in my feet.  Besides, the morning mist is sweet."
Cornelius, "Why, I have an extra pair on the boat.  They might not be the right size, but they'd be perfect and nice."
Voice, "No, no.  I have bad vision, I will never be able to be a fisherman."
Cornelius, "Well, you don't have to look out long distances unless you are the one steering.  That won't be a problem, sir.  Come out, I will teach you to fish."
Voice, "I cannot be out on the waves too long.  Motion sickness, see, so much could go wrong."
Cornelius, "I had motion sickness as well, but you grow accus-"  
"And my arms are too frail to use a net.  No, it's best that I stay here and get some rest."
"Well, it wasn't for nothing, I suppose.  Maybe tomorrow you'll want to go."

He didn't move, his lips barely stirred, he said,
"Good sir, when you get back with the ship, will you bring me back those shoes and some fish?"

i am force-feeding myself
in order to prevent significant poetry loss

i am letting my brains spill into my throat
so i can spit the words out when the moment comes

people are much too beautiful, sometimes
others chisel away at our reputations
and i dont mind much except that it makes me self-conscious
i put my hand up to my forehead to see if there's a temperature
(and for the number of times i've embarrassed myself, i should have a fever by now)

there is something so raw (foods diet) about true love
not cooked by the heat of lust and desire
just made of the natural roots growing out of my hair and the palm leaves of your hands that cup my chin like a coconut when i let you take a sip at my lips
and our tongues (little minnows) run together like streams

i like that.

Satan
handed each child a blindfold

"Take it"
he whispered.
(it is a prison)

"But what is it?"
they asked.

"It is anything you want it to be,"
he answered.
"It creates darkness,
and darkness
is the absence of light.
it is the absence of truth.

and you can fill that void with anything you want to see."

(but only in your own mind)

You keep your promises
I like that.

I awake in an empty cage
My nest is a pile of aspirations
I see people in fancy suits on the street
Dropping their dreams as they go
I gather them in an old trash bag
And the ladies with their short skirts and fancy shoes look down on me (mostly because I'm short, and partly because I am not like them)
Because once I scrub those abandon aspirations, iron the wrinkles out, and take a closer look I find that their hopes weren't worth throwing away
There was so much life left in them
And I know that's why the world is empty
Why the world is growing dark
For without the light a dream can spark
The demons can come to play and take your heart.

I spew ink.

My whole life I believed I
Was made of tar
People walking by would leave their shoes behind
I thought that my lovers were stuck there
Caught in the goopy blackness of my stirring soul
I had no beaters, no mixing spoon
And they would gasp for breath on the surface

I pushed them out
I could not stand to hurt them so
Letting them die would be such a low blow
And it surprised me
To watch them leave so quickly
Like they didn't even want to fix me

One boy tried to clean me out with his bare hands once
And the farther he reached, the dirtier we both became
He traced my name with his fingers on my grimy car windows
"Wash me" the message would say
And I would try to shampoo the tar out of my hair

But as I looked at the spattered stains underneath my fingernails
My poetry, black and white
I saw right through my self-told  lies.

I spew ink.

Like an exploded pen in your white shirt pocket.
Look at the beautiful spots bleeding into the cotton.

Please don't leave.
I promise it's just ink.

it's true.
what they say.
suffering drives you to make laughter.

hamburgers for dinner.
happy earth day.

you told me you were so excited to see me that you threw up kittens.
and i vowed to love you one day longer.

the next day you whispered that you would gladly take on the armies of Mordor with your fists for me.
and i vowed to love you one day longer.

you propose to me at least once a day.
and i vow to love you one day longer.

i whisper that you are my "forever boy" and we talk about silly things like Nutella and Al Gore and nonsense
and you vow to love me forever.

let's show the children what it is to brush our teeth and wear deodorant
halt the habits that made my fingerprints as flat as Nebraska and illegible as kindergarten drawings
own up to the grown up that started creeping out our fingernails when we realized our souls were too big for these bodies and our love wasn't a Velcro heart that could detach from a sleeve as easily as all of those parasites wanted us to believe
.we were trees. -and i was a match-
but i couldn't tell if we were huggers or lovers, could never decide if your kisses were breath mints or frost bite
i knew what i wanted you to be
i would always pretend to be a dragon in the winter, smoke escaping my nose with every exhale
but once we grew up i realized that hot air means nothing
if you never find the fire

the type of girl
who will say "i love you"
first

His white, wool shirts hang in the closet
I count them like sheep
To put my heart to rest

Our eyes lock, our lips lock, our legs lock, we become completely undone.

And even when it is over
He nestles his head against my chest
I run my hands along the grooves in his muscles

We are inseparable
(Who knew something so lovely could be in two places at once)

To think that for six continuous months
He has been mine and I have been his

i. we flew to a foreign country
We paid for over-priced sunscreen to "save the environment"
And we laughed as we paid $15 for something we'd only use once
Swam with dolphins and didn't have enough money to buy the pictures in the end.
But we had experienced it with each other and it really didnt matter.

ii. two am in the emergency room
He was wearing the hospital gown that makes your **** hang out
And it wasn't funny until after his kidney stone had passed
And we knew it was going to be okay

He and I have been through car problems, job searches, *** meltdowns, misunderstandings, laughter, love, and happiness.

See--

You and I
had moments
He and I
live moment to moment.

i feel like a bird that flew right into a window
that you pointed at and laughed

i feel like the shaven-head celebrities
the crack addicts
the high, homeless hippies on the street

i feel like a person of Wal Mart
the awkward couple that shows way too much PDA in public
the punchline of a fat joke

(i see all the fingers pointed at me as--)

i struggle to bend my wings into shape again
but i've taken to writing poetry and cutting up pieces of newspaper
to fit between the ruffled feathers

i shouldn't still have brain damage from the collision i had with your pride (sixteen miles high)

but maybe i do

i tap on the glass just to make sure that i really am a fool
and to see if you'll look back
to see me redeem myself
to see me fly
a
  w
     a
       y.

(but you don't)

Oh that I believed in solipsism
All those fears of gossip would blossom in little polyps all over my mind
Making what everyone thought of me
Simply- everything I think of myself
Oh that I could reach the first impressions with an all-encompassing blindfold
And emerge from behind the curtain as the person I am in this moment
If ice cubes melt I surely don't exist anymore
Because that was years ago
So what am I?
Oh that I didn't believe in a God
And the only person to hide from was myself
Which in itself is impossible
But disappointing the only other person who knows of my existence
Makes it harder to find reasons to be permanent
Perhaps ice cubes are better for this reason
Becoming less and less significant as you warm them with your hands
Because
I don't want to be anything
To anyone
(Not anymore)

show me a man
greater than Alex Child
and i will show you a man that does not exist <3

My eyes glow like green exit signs, and that's what

Shows you it's my time

To go... go... GO!

But the time you throw to me is scrapp'd from your trash, and now's when I crash, because I'm tired of you telling me not to eat the meat you made from scratch, that you gave to me so many years back, claiming I'll get sick from that.

And I've tried doing everything...

So I would know how to grow

                    Up,

           Up,

UP.

But you clip my wings and stuff me in a high chair

To spoon-feed me your suggestions like strained peas.

And I hate you for it.

Because after making me lick the spoon,

I'm hemiliched too,

You, asking why I swallowed at all.

I've tried pleasing you, appeasing you, and I've squeezed my creative juices until they taste true to YOU.

And the fruit tree that bears art inside me,

Is tired of the fact that no one's tried me,

And tangibly touched their tongue to all the flavors that I savor in my head.

...

My own body would treat my work like foreign substance,

Attacking the words it harbored once,

Because I hate coming up with a million

Different ways to say I hate you,

But I do,

And the juice from my pen drips bitter ink

As I write the truth.

You took me as a cherry, ****** and spit the pit right out of me,

Then told me you'd never be happy till I grew a cherry tree.

...

I was willing to **** through my thoughts for weeks to find the needed seed...

But it was gone.

And my eyes glow green as I cry chlorophyll dreams

That have nowhere to go,

And no one that needs them.

Like no one needs me.

And you've made it perfectly clear about

My ways

and

Highways,

And you like highways better with no red lights,

No green eyes,

That can shut and shout out

STOP!

i will love you
until my heart pumps so hard that my veins burst through my skin and attach themselves to the mattress, spreading across the walls and feeling for your body in the darkness

i will love you
until gravity becomes old fashioned
we'll wear it as vintage
falling into each other
all over again
for old time's sake

i will love you
until we explode in mini supernovas under the scrutiny of God's microscope
and our dust fragments tumble,
then settle snugly,
spooning on His bookshelf.

to encrust the covers and begin another story

I wrote scores about him
Dipped my hair in paint and left a trail of where thoughts of him would take me
Who knew it would line the entire highway
Dotted lines
Straight lines
All mixed up
I could have written novels of my lonely journeys
The Hobbit has nothing on me
I filled notebook after notebook
Love that he would never see
And I am glad you like long showers
Because lately
I have torn the pages from those notebooks
And watched the ink run together as the water hits the floor.

i want to know how you wrote my eulogy
if it took you five minutes or if it will take five lifetimes
to hack up your excuses like dry hairballs
presented at the feet of every person who will ask
why the little turtle dove is dead to you now

Dress up like the ghosts
From your past and try not to
Scream when they come by.

walk me through the architecture of this ribcage
tell me why my heart keeps collapsing on itself
i mean-
it's ok
i manage to get by with the wooden popsicle sticks i construct for when the teacher tells me it's time to check my throat for sickness and my hair for lice
i know i'm just another fixer-upper
but what good would i be if i was perfect
no,
really
society builds up these things just to tear them back down again
look at the rising stars
the way they always have to fall
in the end
and to what end?
hm
nobody can handle being told that they're not beautiful or famous enough
so they plaster beautiful, famous faces onto the wallpaper of the grocery stores
just to tell you that those celebrities aren't beautiful or famous enough, either
nobody's perfect
everyone wants to be perfect
but when somebody is finally perfect at something
we ****** them out of the sky like fireflies
and pretend we know
why they don't shine brighter

we are products of our pasts
creators of our futures
and maybe that's why they say that history repeats itself.

the thing about anonymous valentines
is that he could be dead
and i'd still want to put his name in the space,
part of my heart would still be convinced
that he left this hot air balloon with a bear in the basket on my porch. sigh.

happy valentine's day
my nameless
faceless
lover.
whoever you are.

From: girl

you were lightning
and i was always behind.

matter can't be created or destroyed
and something inside of my head tells me that i matter
or at least
tells me that i cannot destroy myself

i have always existed, in one form or another
it's just that i've only had a body for 21 years
and the rest of the time i was a little less than human

i have two choices
to be
or not to be
but i don't think Shakespeare ever took a science class

we have-- to be
and we can decide what to be
but we cannot decide if we are or are not

we never chose that

our existence
is a beautiful mystery

one that i wish to understand

there are only two choices
to be
or not to be
like God

we are the pilots of our own experience

where will we go
what will we look at
who will we look up to

will we absorb everything the night scene has to offer us
or will we open up in the daylight like the flowers growing from a dunghill

we are stuck on a planet poisoned with
pride
****
pieces of the devil lodged in the crannies of our soul

but who am i?
i have to be--
i have to be--
something
(but my choices haven't defined me all the way yet)

Remember when I ran a cheese grater over the maps
Told you traveling scared me to death
- I changed after you shipwrecked my soul against the walls of your heart
How lucky I am that
Souls can't be created or destroyed
They are always something, in one form or another
And I am so happy
Because this raft of driftwood has made an adventurer of me

i'm about to open a casket of dead things that i never wanted to look at again
but the fact that you've walked all over the grave makes me sad so i'm opening it and i'm showing people the parts of me that died and why i'm alive but still broken (a little)
you asked if he'd ever defiled me in any way, shape, or form
words count, right
well
i was honest and told you the ways and shapes that my body had gotten away from me a little
in his hands
and you
well
after we stopped talking you made light of everything
and this is just a nonsensical rant jammed between dirt and worms in a can
but i wish i'd known that i meant more to you than those things
if not right now, at least in the past
but i guess i shouldn't expect so much from you anymore

Do trees have itches they can't scratch
I mean
             The limbs that can't move against the wind
             The apple abortions each autumn
I save all of my apple cores
I see forbidden thoughts in them that no one sees in me

"And The Lord God said unto the serpent... upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life..."

Do we look down on the trees like the overgrown lego people that we are
I mean
             Snapping their branches like dry spaghetti
             Devouring the fruits of their labor
             Their body
             Our choice

"Unto the woman he said... in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children..."

I save all of my apple cores
Wonder about the curses of their parents that don't apply to me
At the hands of man the trees fall
Through Autumn the leaves fall
And their children fall as well

"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread."

And to the tree
God said nothing.

i write because i can make it as smooth or as
c h   o   p
                p y    as i want.  unlike life.

The sun sported a brilliant shade of pink eye as she rose this morning
I wondered what had happened to her on the other side of the mountain last night, for her to awake as grouchy as this
I wondered if, perhaps, the moon had been kicked in her face
Wondered if the smoky sky had reached her nostrils as she slept, if she wept when she realized how long the moisture's been kept
But mostly, I wondered how she could be so irritated at the sight of me
Staring me down as she swelled with some awful infection
That had spread to the puffy tissue surrounding one veined eyelid
Well, I looked right back
Daring her to send me back inside to those promising shadows beneath my dinosaur blanket in bed
It all seemed much more inviting than this
At 6:30 in the morning, no less
Why, with her so uncharacteristically red in the face
Would anyone want to be around such a ginormous ball of sunshine when they first awake?

i <9 you
because nine is bigger than three.

it's like scraping the parts of yourself that you hate onto paper

-to make room for the light-

Someone should drop a rock on me like a paperweight
At the bottom of a well
So I can decide if these words are worth keeping
What
Don't you feel like you might be blown off the desk sometimes, too
There are a lot of settings for the ceiling fans and even if they whistle some of them might not be as avid for your autograph as you'd think
Sometimes there isn't a difference between fan mail and hate mail
It's just people who are too tired to empty their souls into a pitcher and the paper makes a wall around their drooping sandbag hearts
And I forgive them
Because the well was dry long before anybody could refill it

I could very well end up in a wastebasket for my trouble
But I want to be worth remembering by my deeds not my name

Oh, but don't wipe the stains off the kitchen walls yet
I want to read them like braille
See if I can remember them all when they were children
Sticky fingers reaching for my hair when my hands were preoccupied
Chocolate covered faces that kissed my cheeks when my lips were forming words much harsher than "I love you"
Don't you remember, dear
I never wanted those moments to skip rope out the back door
Slamming the screen door shut behind them
I've hit it so many times trying to find the children again
Just realized today that that door is closed; I'll never follow them out into the yard again
Never going back
Never going back
Smashed into the **** carpet of my bedroom
Is a sour patch kid from years ago
I suppose I could've peeled it from the decor if I'd tried sooner
But I loved you
I loved the way you left pieces of yourself lying around for me to find

i am stuck in a bottle of windex,
that disguised itself as kool aid
my body smashed between plastic
you pull me out but i crave the fumes
i want to go back
i want to be with you
i want to go back
i want to be with you
i want to be with-
a love we made from scratch
i don't know what i want
i am sandwiched between the past and the future
there is no way out because
i cannot escape the present for the life of me.

it's
           closer
                        than
                                   it's
                                         ever
                                                  been
         ­                                  but
                                  still
                       not
            soon
enough.<3

i could scribble "hey, cutie" on your napkin in red lipstick while you're in the bathroom

and watch you fold it fancy-like and tuck it into your suitcoat
for safekeeping

i could offer to foot the bill at village inn with my new visa card that came in the mail two days ago

and feel you slip ten dollars into my hands asking if you can pay for half

i could squeal and laugh when you flick your tongue into my mouth while we're kissing

and hear your soft chuckle and the sultry whisper "you're so cute,"

i could wrap myself around you and whisper how much i adore and need you
licking the back of your neck and feeling your muscles flex
beneath my touch

and know that in just moments you will run your tongue across me, too
and i will be swimming in your glory

i could throw a fishing line into our pool of ideas
draw one up
examine it, gut it, roast it over a fire
and share a warm meal of minced minds with you

to find that you are playing with my hair and nuzzling your nose into my back as i talk and laugh with you
over this meal meant for two

i could scrape the snow from your windshield every morning
and draw hearts endlessly in the frost that formed across your soul when your mother died

your lips would crawl across me,
whispering "Kate Lyn" the whole time

I would very much like God to write a book
           on what would have happened tonight

If I'd stood on the table at Olive Garden and shouted:
           "there is no proper etiquette for slurping spaghetti"

blank stares? (especially from that awfully annoying girl I knew in high school who waits tables)
applause? (from myself. like a giddy two year old.
                   after throwing my noodles at the wall to ensure proper stickiness- which could make or break
                                                           ­           the reputation of an Italian restaurant, you know)
cold shoulders? (probably. it was twelve degrees outside tonight. you saw the way our breath mingled
                                                         ­             forming a smoky veil across the stars as we walked)

nah.
i don't care to know any of that, really.

mostly, i just want to know
if the night- well, if I -would have been found a little bit more beautiful by you
had i made your life a little more colorful
and a little more human
by just-

being myself

I don't think we needed an epidural
I mean
Maybe we did afterwards, at the sight of all the afterbirth
But somehow
I feel
We didn't
And I don't think a cesarean was necessary
We sort of slipped into this other world so easily
A place all our own
But it's so sad to see how things change
How two lovers
(Born side by side, into a world they never could have imagined)
Don't even recognize each other anymore

capture the moths in
your butterfly net and say
"you're beautiful, too."

"I thank my God
upon every remembrance of you."

(i do)

I boxed up the shirt with my heart on the sleeve
Cliché- But that’s the only way I’ve learned how to deal with things
And I don’t plan on ever taking it out again

And I’m not really all that sad
Because it has so many holes in it now, anyway
And wearing it would mean showing people too much of me too soon
I’m never doing that again
Like I did with you

I went to my dresser and pulled out all of the simple things
Simple – A word synonymous with ugly for almost everyone these days
And I dusted them off and locked those away as well

And I’m quite sad about that
Because I feel that someone (once)
Thought that they were beautiful in a special, old-fashioned way
That no one will ever see again
The last person I showed was you

I went to my closet and pulled out a mask
Mask – What you wore every day when we were together
And I slipped it onto my face

I won’t let myself be sad about that
Because maybe people will say that I’m prettier now
With a different face and a different personality
That I’ll never take it off again
And no one will ever know

I went to my mouth and forced all these words out
Words – My most prized possession
And I fixed them onto a page

I don’t care to think about that
Because it means my heart snagged in threads that
Detached from the sleeve
Of the shirt that I used to wear
Every day
For you

.im just saying
if you hear music that -is meant to stir your soul with a wooden spoon
shoved down your throat to scrape out the best of you like left over batter out of a bowl-
if that brownie mix still tastes like me
you're not over it
not yet.

Early to rise just brought frogs to our throats

We spat them out along the perfect cobblestones lining the sidewalk

And watched the thin, old ladies clutch their pocketbooks closer to their chest as they skittishly sidestepped to avoid squashing them beneath those perfectly pointed heels



We laughed and laughed at their doings

Until the frogs were cleared out

And we realized then that we hadn’t made plans for the rest of the afternoon



Well, we followed those cobblestones until they gave way into tiny pebbles at the end of the road

That is where you first took a funnel to my heart

Beneath our favorite tree

Emptying the juicy trills from the beaks of the mockingbirds

That will never taste the same in my ears again

Once the hum stops, I’ll take the mold from your belly button

                        And knit me a droopy pair of bunny ears

                        I’ll wear on my heart to make it throb again

                        Because you always have such rotten things to say

                        But I’m so buzzed, I can’t hear them

                                    So I will bug your rancid body soon

                        And I will memorize every souring flavor in my condensed milk

                        As I tap into a clearer signal



                        But our pulse will stop before the flies drop

                        Like all the fruitless calls I make to you

                                    Their driveling buzz doesn’t thrill like before, so



I’ve peeled back the skin from my fuzzy navel

                        And looped it into a noose

                        We wear around our sappy necks to keep our heads

                        Because I’ve told you we’ve gotten too heavy

                        But you’re too hung over to reach

                                    So we will ferment from the stem now

                        And concentrate [on] ourselves to a pulp

                                    And no one will be there to hear us congeal



Because our oozing flesh will rot beneath these buzzing ear muffs

                        Till the dregs drop like flies to our grave