girl, i wanna tap into your spine
& remove all of the thorns
that make your insides bleed
& fill up your stomach with
heavy things like fear & dread

soon, i’d like to put your hand
in mine & show you what
lies beyond your humble body
& the prisons & cages you
made of your horizons

girl, you should really know
that nothing is impossible
& you’ve got wings of a mind
& a holy motor in your chest
you could take flight anytime

when the mail came
unmarked
I said I don’t want it-  return to sender!
I do not want this ****, again.junk mail is for the birds
I read books & letters, I do not open up
unknown packages for fear of ingesting anthrax
like that American did
a few years ago.

but it showed up once more
this time patiently waiting on my doorstep,

what
admirable
persistence

I thought to myself this must be a sign
of something good inside
(like the loving people that never give up on anyone else, ever)

intrigued by the beautiful wrapping,  I took it inside
& let it sit on my table  
for a few weeks,
half expecting something to happen, but
it did not want to make itself at home amongst
my masterpieces

so I moved it about,
looked for its place

it did not fit.
so I threw it on the shelf

Surprised by its lack of weight.
this **** thing must be empty !
why had I not wondered what was inside before?
(I’ll rip open that ******* & see what it’s made of)

but instead, into the fire I threw it
& the ashes disappeared shortly afterwards



the shelf remains empty
my hands warm,
the dust still unsettled
but by what ?

in the right corner of your room,
the white paint is peeling away,
to pick at it & watch the entire
thing collapse upon you.

much like the empty things i feel:
nothing but chipping little flakes;
fragile little waste that might
decorate the floor of your room,


naked walls enclose this empty space,
but confused excited atoms dance about ,
screaming at each other in a tongue
that I’ve never known nor care to.


cotton sheets, a sweet odor of skin,
***, oranges & things i can’t get across
cause the line is blocked, overloaded.
i want to; bring down the roof upon us

scratch, pick away, take parts from
the whole thing until it gives way
& submits to the overbearing weight
of unseen structural weaknesses


before being buried alive in this mess,
i’ll evacuate & leave behind this expanse
i’ve been squatting in since i first laid
my eyes upon your deceivingly lazy face.  


(i’m not in the business of maintenance)