4/23/2015

There's a ***** little trick you oughta know.
he lights a perique blend.
We're both at different stages,
he'd say
But not different enough that we can't **** like rabbits.
alright, alright.

What's the trick?
It's nothing.
What?
Nothing. That's the trick.
Are you kidding?
No. Never.

i changed my mind about that, you know,
I was hoping so. I give him the money
for the cigarettes.
He steps out in the February rain
(Me too)

And comes back with red 100's.
He tosses them on my lap.
Alright. I'll get you going home now.

4/23/2015

Just because I think of you often
does not mean I miss you.
the plaited faint gold leaf of
the air of one in love
I know it now
I guess I can give you that credit.

"love is an illusion, and we're all going to die"
romantic verses for me
from you, a la Byron, a la Keats, a la
Kafka to Felice.

and why do you despise  normalcy? I'd ask in the stuffed up German car in  October brusqueness thinking of
Leaving before being left. But I can't predict the future.

Remember before you hate me
that you told me once
It was like death never existed when you loved me but

We haven't spoken in 5 months.

Are you dead?

No. You are not.

4/19/2015
dedicated to the girl I used to be

crushed right next to the
broken glass.
"I don't write
nearly as much poetry
as I used to,"
I tell her in the orange light
of the German café
this time it is shining in through.

"Like you used to
before you were sedated?"
No.
I suppose it must be the weather.

I remember dancing to morrissey
in my darkened room at 3:43 am
on a January tuesday,

it was a good lay, good lay,good lay
Like some sort of charicature of teenage one dimensionality

I remember picking up a half empty
Heineken at a dorm room right before
winter finals like some sort of charcature of teenage pretentiousness and

putting my tights on, "my mom thinks I'm shopping, cute, right?"
Old floor crushing my shins minute before like some sort of charcature of teenage indulgences

"Don't you sort of miss the cold?"
I ask, picking at the cake and
the girl I used to be this time last year
infinitely more innocent weeps at

confrontation

Black bed sheets, Big blush brush, back and forth.
Pouting, popping, posing. "Can't believe he's single!"
Oh my god. I know right.
I say with the expression of a taxidermied doe. Texting
until I want to pull my fingers off, First Class Ticket in a
bottle of Sky. I'm a ****** who can't drive and it's ironic
because I feel like I'm in high school again and I want to die.
Please ask me one more time if I think you look good,
as I reach to lift up the window, It's April and I'm cold,
I stare at the asphalt ground down from 6 floors up.
Contemplating how I managed to make it when I fell from heaven all those years ago.

4/11/2015

Today I woke up
after a long tribulation, got up
found my way down

and remembered how to
make myself coffee.
I couldn't help but feel

a longsword in my lungs
when I looked over the ridge
and started to see green colored oaks.

4/8/2015

Lying within the breadth
of le petit mort
i, accustomed to being

escorted out, sat up and out
of bed, the golden glaze of the
whitman skylight probably
shining around my brazen cheekbones.

"Come here," He said, the student,
and I was filled with a tender repugnantion, I was reminded of how
post coitum I would not let my past

lover even touch me for a while.
and so with this resignation I
crawled up next to him in the
Old beige wallpaper surroundings

The prestigious institute.
"You know," I told him, burying my nose into his arm
"I was named after a seductress. She would poison her father's political enemies after ***."

He shuddered a bit.
"How long does it take to kick in?" He feigned concern, eyes blinked on and off rapidly then

"Ah!" He clutched at his gut. "I feel it! The poison!" he closed his eyes and went limp. I laughed. Then he laughed.

It was a scene tender with beatific memories of vague sentimentality, quaint regard.

"It is time for you to get going now though," he stood up. "I have a paper to write."

Null