Amongst,
the rhythm
and teeth
I thought,
it pacifies,
quietly
so quickly.

see now
how tightly,
our arms
have been
tied behind
our backs
(and it was
us who
bought
the cord)

and yet,
i flail my tongue
still,
hoping to
trap a square
that could
neutralize
all that
sad acid
rotting in
your gut

we
know
nothing
of the brain
and even
less of
the heart

but I feel
paralyzed
enough
to reach out

(you tell me that happiness exists
and I beg you to allow me
a few moments, to dissolve
those smiles plastered on that
family portrait you hang so proudly)

Exhibit A:
a medecine cabinet full of pills,
and a woman whose throat is a bit too loose,
whose head is a bit too woozy,
from trying to erase those 10 odd years,
when her uncle knew the insides,
her legs better than he knew his wife’s,

Have you seen
the man who prays too hard,
for redemption at some backwoods’ altar,
begging God and all those who witness
for forgiveness of sins he has yet to commit ?
He has forgotten how to sleep,
pacing and chasing far too many a dream over a hill.

Find next,
in a girl whose body feels like space,
forever bending over her knees,
to pull that monumental trigger
lying at the back of her empty throat.
that boom-boom, flash of violent thrashing
and a quiet flushing of the toilet
She never could quite remove what felt so heavy

Turn your eyes up the stairs,
to a nervous women who runs
a scalding bath, hoping that
maybe if her skins burns hot enough,
then she’ll be washed of all that
hellish responsiblity, submerging
the animal circus in her that’ll
paint her tombstone peasant anti-ghost


allow me a moment to clarify:
not all that lies at the surface
speaks to the distance
a soul can travel through time,
allow me a moment to make
an exhibition of struggle
and remind you that
nothing is ever quite what it seems

your disorder and depression aren’t ****,
and I do not admire the way your nails
have disappeared, nor the way your
hand pratically clutches that half-empty mug of beer.

know that i find you pretty ugly
with that inebriated smile
slurring about your cowardly mouth,
swerving along the tight lanes of your lips.

nobody can stand to believe anymore
that there is depth inside your eyes.
You cry trenches, insisting like a hungry fool,
Abyss, I retort, empty, shaking black hole

gobble, gobble, chug, chug
you listen to the same sad songs on repeat
proud, like they were your signature fragrance
just know that you reek of desperation

There is absolutely nothing courageous
about your endless consumption,
yet you somehow continue
to bite the hand that feeds

i imagine you should wish
to starve to death, so go on.
but stop ******* other skeletons dry
and quit hanging around until last call

(unless it really is that you are simply
trying to douse that flame that makes you
a firefly in august, in which case i say
burn yourself to the ******* ground)

In a haven of cotton and chiming clocks,
I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again, to talk of our troubles
that hang around like ghosts
in the back of an empty apartment.

You leave empty jars
scattered amongst the books
and unlikely photos that remove you
from the stiffling four walls
you’ve come to call home.

You dream of certain travel
in faraway lands where
they do not speak your tongue,
whilst your own, buzzes and breaks
like electric cables in a summer storm.

I have precisely one thousand questions,
and a hunger to know what haunts
you when you are left to your mind
and it’s scheming devices
but I find the back of your hand
too soft to think of anything but touching.

I taste your lips on the back of my neck,
not knowing whether my body trembles
because of the night’s intruding cold
or rather that I am anxious
for this velvet moment to last,
having never felt such tender thoughts

Your emerald eyes scream urgency,
and I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again to talk of our troubles

I sat beneath you,
when your colors were fading,
in the dusty autumn
of thoughts and songs
you burried in the sand.

Furry, amber tracks of absent vines,
outlining the spine I had only dreamt of
Cowardice and missing chlorophyl,
I hoped to dizzy myself,
chasing the rings of your voice

I friviouslessly kissed the wrinkles
that gathered around your eyes
like ridges do that of a tree's bark.
I caught falling leaves
and told myself the spring
would soon return
whilst you rotted from the inside-out.

I kissed a boy out of sheer timidness.
He tasted like salt and bad decisions.
I held her hand tightly when she said
she was going to terminate the pregnancy.
I’ve got 25 years beneath my belt
and I still have yet to tell you how I feel,
every time your eyes grace my field of vision,
rather, I mean, everytime your name
graces my ears, I gulp deep breaths of
I hope he hasn’t forgotten me

But that is what you said,
It was goodbye, if my memory
doesn’t fail me,
oh yet, it fails me
for I’ve swallowed everything
this earth has to offer
and I still cannot erase your new wave voice
and I’m no sponge,
but you, I’ve soaked to the bone.
There is no fancy wine to erase,
there is no jazz band,
to take me back a few years,
rewind and forget,
the way you made me feel
like I had been some sort of mute
audience, clinging to the end of
a long-dead television show.
Indeed, I felt you more of a
leading man, than some shiny fool
with bright teeth in some 1960’s commerical.

I refuse to utter the 2 syllables
that call you forth, a spell.
I’ve forgotten how to swallow
and you’ve forgotten how to spell.
We are lost in paradise and
I am not sure I wish to leave.

I repeat, it takes 3 years
It really does, but I haven’t the patience
nor the mind to wait.
I swim in shallow depths,
but you’re no savoir and I’m sure
you’d let me drown

This face is too pretty
to be spent be scraped off
of some cement ground
in the middle of a dog-day summer
when I’ve still got a skeleton of calcium
and a chest full of oxytocin
to spread amongst another
like rancid butter
on old bread.

They say  *I love you
Where are you beautiful? *
I am lost in the cosmos,
calling your name,
to a dead audience of
long deceased stars.

I will come back for seconds,
Feed on these remainders,
for my mind is among the heavens
and my heart is beating inside of
another