Pants tucked into boots,
rolling cigarettes on the front porch as storm clouds form
******* german shepherd,

I haven’t seen anyone happier yesterday morning
you're my brother,
talking up a revolution

we’ll leave this behind soon,
Chasing hopes for a different life
Or survive the collapse of this one

‘Do you think this plastic canteen is dissolving from the inside?’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it,
you know how lead killed the Romans?’

Would anything change
if I left where you all stood
would you be doing less opiates
and making somewhat constructive conversation?

Would you go unpunished for my excuses
or anticipate someone yelling while you drove?
I can’t see why someone would miss
a savage like me

Bickering, or
*******, or
slutting, or
strangling

You’ll all rest in peace
(not death, you barbarians)
when I’m not having spasms
next to your sink

Could anyone contort your face
like I can when I tell you how
filthy or gorgeous you look?
(no.)

Is anyone going to replace this void
that I’ll create in this cell
the walls stained with old *****
the rug covered in excess hair

In my defense
I’m truly insane
it should be no wonder
that I live in such a cave

When I leave
you’ll be much more relieved
I do wonder, however
how quickly you’ll age

Or if I’m the one to age
whistling through deserts and forests
and tripping on sidewalks
or drowning in corporate fountains

I cry hopelessly that I’m not
a catalyst
because I don’t want to stay here
when everyone is through

The rain will wash out
your bloodstains on my clothes
I can’t stumble through a laundromat
without feeling like a derelict

Maybe I’ll take up smoking
and deal crank to minors
and abuse my dogs
and **** my wife (or husband)

Or I’ll become a banker
and pocket your money
to burn when I’m cold
or bury under expensive food

It’ll take ten more warehouses
and a thousand more people
to chain me to this
map of my adolescence

Leaving here I’ll lose my mind
between the branches and streams
and the abundance of towering behemoths
that grew only lifetimes ago

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased
My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover
How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die
I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay
Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack
Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool
I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together
I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call

(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)

Next time you tell me to go away
I'll show you just how good I am at disappearing
You just haven't stuck around long enough for the
vanishing act
You have the audacity to
say my name tastes like filth
But have you ever thought
that the source of your uncleanliness
was born somewhere in your lung's
and made its way up your throat
I can taste that
when I kiss you
No wonder everything turn's to grit
in your mouth
You have the stones
to say
you're an insomniac
But there's a difference between
not wanting to sleep
and not being able to
And your hands wouldn't shake so much
if you didn't drink so much coffee
and you wouldn't look so tired
If you smiled once in a while
and your breath wouldn't taste
or smell
or look
like ****
if you didn't smoke
100 packets a day.
So you have the audacity to tell me
"Well, baby the truth hurts."
In that southern drawl
With eyes so animated
I wonder which movie star you're impersonating now
After four months of Kurt Cobain
I've had enough of your angst and love letters
And I'd love to lay
my hands against your throat
and let you feel the threat
of life
draining away
But I know you would just smile
and rack your brain
for a quote from a movie you have stored somewhere
away

When they stripped me of the life in my bones
I looked to the stars,
and plucked the moon from its perch
with my lips.
And the rage in their fists
tried to pry it from my skull.
But they cannot win.
They may look down on us with their
hollow eyes that can do nothing but weep,
and their hungry mouths that spit ash.
But I know what hope is.
And They don't.
No matter how many times I am beaten
I swear that the birds that sing in my chest
will always be louder than them.
Tell me what holy is,
and I will tell you of the love in my veins.
Tell me why you hate so much,
and I will tear it apart with my shame.
I will split the night open with my words.
I will sweep up the ashes with my rage.
They cannot win.
Not when your eyes look through me like that.
And while you sew together my wings,
tell me of the love letters that God left
on your windowsill.
Tell me of the fists that left those scars.
When they finally bring me to the gallows,
make sure that the noose is made
from the strings of guitars.
Carve my spine into the heart of a tree.
Spread my ashes over the lips of the sea.
Tell me what holy is.
And I will take you to that river full of sin.
I will write my poetry in the snow with my bones.
Tell me where Gabriel is.
And I will clean the blood from his crippled wings.
I will be an immovable sky.
The mouth of the river that never ceases to sing.
They'll separate us with razor wire,
but a few cuts won't hold me back.
They'll scream at us with their empty taboos.
But the paintings I've got tattooed on my ribs
aren't black and white like their words.
I'm done hiding my heartbeat.
I want to taste the words that come off my tongue,
to paint with the dirt beneath my nails.
Say my obituary was written like a poem.
So that when God greets me at his gates,
he will tell me that I was alive.
That I wasn't empty like Them.
But I'm tired.
And I've walked one too many miles in my
own shoes.
But it's impossible to stop,
when you've got wings flapping in your chest,
and a heart that burns like a lantern.
Remember me like this.
Spouting words from the darkest corners
of my soul.
Words that stick to you like a lover's kiss.
It's a song.
A manifesto.
An epitaph that will stay burned in your eyes
until you blink away the tears.
I'll keep walking if you just carry me
on your back for a few short steps.
A couple of shallow breaths.
Just let me rest.
So that the next words that come out of
my mouth will be “I love you”.
And you'll see that the bruises on my back
are the notes of music.
Tell me what holy is.
So I can tell you why I keep moving.
So I can spread these wings you've built for me,
with the skin I've shed
and my broken bones.
And I'll teach you how to fly too.
Because life has no rhythm
unless you give it a beat.
Tell me what holy is.
And remember
that we
are not.

Harness his laughter with a spiked rope, laughing old man, shove him into a glass jar for later. A ghost baby, laughing and ******* her thumb, hands you a daisy and giggles. Lets light the park on fire with incense sticks says the apple tree, black against the morning fog.
When the clouds offer you candy, refuse because they want to lure you into the sky and then keep you there. The sun is your only friend, only true friend, even the flowers will lie to you, ***** smelly lies. Do watch the elderly woman feeding the birds, bread crumbs, any park bench will do, bread crumbs for the birds who fight over them greedily. Survival of the fittest remember. Remember remember remember. September December.
Venus’ African lover, leader of a ceremony, drunken procession. Follow the Buddha under to the catacombs where the dandelions grow by the millions, offering their drugs and nighttime services. The ghost baby passes you again with cloud candy, but you know better. You always knew.