"rope, love."
she ropes me up.
sinks full of cigarette blood,
I drink it up.
catch it in my glass as it drips from the pipes.
predators and prey and no other
way out,
every place I hide
gives me up
sacrifice your kids for
me
sacrifice your head, your soul
I’ll eat them alive
and bury them in my insides.
grandmother’s Lincoln
leaving tread on your face
your liquor in the backseat
and your Mexican boyfriend falling all
over my hipster cousin, calling her his *****.
you lay on the bathroom floor
water races in the maze between the
tile
you’re in front of the door
I can’t get in.
cousin!
cousin!
let me in!
hard shove, pick up, not my cousin,  my lover!
dismemberment on the bed
you crawl all over
twists and turns and this once small
bedroom is now a labyrinth.
the television blares mindlessly in the other room
skin tears and eyes fall from sockets and I step over
my dead relatives to cross the street.
I scream,
and I drink blood out of a champagne flute
while checking my nails
and scraping the flesh out from under them.
everything about me invites you in
and masochism drives me mad with want.
Ego gets the best of me
cleanse me
purge me
scour me
I’m begging
cleanse me!
cleanse me!
I will never leave you,
never leave me, lover

give me your blood,
your tongue,
your lips,
your fingers,
some skin from inside your thigh,
and haunt me in passion
until I resurrect you at last!

the muck and the mud dried in my hair.
i climbed through the window that had served
as a painful entrance hours before.

the trek to downtown Tulsa was one I knew well.
the journey was nightly for months, and existence was
brief each time.
the car ride was long and bumpy. i pitied the shocks beneath
me as they screamed with each hit.
they never saw them coming.

my friends crowded the cab and the heat
****** salty sweat from my pores. with every pull from the whiskey
bottle, i traded sanity for spirit.
music floated through the heavy, dense air--
Combat Rock or Bowie's deep cuts.
cigarettes burned holes in our chests and
our bodies ached in maddening delight.

i turned the wheel,
my fingertips surreal.
we pulled in, stepped out, and felt the bass race up our legs.
3 minutes in the building and we were all covered in glitter
and shining on the inside.

our skin is
in the way.

Honey, if I gave a **** about your boyfriend
I would have given it by now.
Although, I will say I have my opinions
formed from a party,
a few conversations,
some comments,
and a whisper or two.
So from what I can tell, your boyfriend
checks his hair in the mirror.
is more worried about beer pong than
          how much you've had to drink.
speaks incorrect French.
whines like a little ***** when he goes
          without a "goodnight."
is safe, boring, beige paint.
boxes you up into the same routine.
is insecure.
would be paired with Napoleon Bonaparte
          in a wrestling duel.
is obsessed with his muscles instead of your laugh.
is making you miss your chance
                             to take a chance.

in my shower.
You’re there in the passenger seat.
You’re in two places simultaneously.
Your head’s on my chest,
arms around my neck, fingers laced.
You’re in my headphones when “Cheers Darlin’” hits my ears.
You’re sitting on my lap.
You’re laying on your bed.
You’re climbing in and never leaving my head.
You’re at the top of my list-- the only name.
You run through my veins—
the only drug I want to take.
You’re the love that hurts, the love that saves,
the love that stains my tongue.
You’re the anger, the sweat, the out-of-breath.
You’re the “take your time.”
You’re every good word.
But you haven’t said your mine.