Mistakes rest on my collarbones
William Burroughs knocks on my chest and listens to the echoes

Catch my breath and weigh the possibilities

Navigating the side streets
we drink tequila from a tea *** while the bowl moves counterclockwise

Tuck my friendships back into pockets and carry them like loose change.
Take a penny, leave a penny
Just don't leave me lonely.

I lay in your front yard with my mouth wide open
I capture the songs of the day so we can share them in the moon light

You simply go through the motions
your mind full of figures,
while I think about thinking
                                               of thinking
                                                        ­          of thinking
                                                        ­                             a thought.

I fumble through life, my shoe laces tied together
You laugh into our kiss and call me useless

So please,
use less of me.

there's something in the middle of me, in the middle of
me there is a large amount of something
pushpushing against my skin and
aching against my vital organs, I
can feel the strain as my heart strings are
tuned up up up and pulled to the taunt
-ness of a mandolin.

the monotonous monks that haunt
my chest cavity take on a barely audible
angelic hum - the lightness of their voices
driven in
to the tips of my
limbs,
which are
quivering
     as if
                
            they
                        

                     were



          feathers.

Myself
I am stupid
A nothing
A slave
But I break free from you
The window shatters.at the diamond tip
Cracking in pieces
Reflect the sky
And rain flashing my shoulder
I stop
I listen
I look
Turning lifetimes between times I've known
Feeling a tangle of weeds at my throat
You bite and clawed until it let me go
Gouging out glass eyes
Million by million
In a silent hilltop
Where a morning fog fell
Where a morning fog fell
Where a morning fog fell

Near the edge of hell
I felt your fingers about my feet
Pulling me from the darkness of a midnight dream
The dreamcatcher tore
The beads on my neck
Where each one touched me like a dagger Sharp
Leaving me scars
All torn apart but a tore a man apart because he started the fire
That killed my old and beautiful mother
Ask me not how a weak man can leave patterns on the sea of time
Someone whose words can cut with every broken glass
Someone who falls asleep dreaming of lost hands
Warm beds at sunset

What am I doing?

You are so much bitter music you dancing devil
Like a last minute psalm for freedom
One that you have memorized so carefully
You don't recite it
You feel it
The buckle of your knees bends you beautifully in prayer
So many words in your perfectly timed gasps for air

Breathe on my neck again
Bitter sweet beer breathed passion
My fingers dance
Because I need so many ways to say unrequited
So many ways to say
Patience is something I can do without

And I stand still like a tree
Like the wrong tree
And I am barking up it

This is hot mess remix love
Through faulty filters
Burning up my coffee lung
Fingertip singe nailbite frustration

This is bitter music
Full of flavor for all the wrong reasons
A happy accident proximity
Of misunderstood gyration

Hands like dead tree branches
Fingertip curl to write
Sounds of late night windowpane taps

The songs dont match
Though the music ends at the same time
Shoulder shrug and careful backstep

My friends are waiting
It was nice meeting you I guess

You broken bone remix
Of passionate smile
Right foot forward fire
Perfect pitch like a ***** psalm for freedom

And bitter music

“It’s like a hand grenade,” he says,
“You only have so much control
But it is your responsibility to throw it out there”

This is poetry
This is my soul
These are my words
Shrapnel shards of
I shouldn’t be telling you this about myself
Let me pack them in

Pray I hit home
Hit you with burning chunks of truth
Burn you with passion
My passion
My stutters
Let me infect you with my
Poorly written prose

The only thing I ever wanted was for you to feel me
You feel me?

Do you feel this?
Do you?

Be honest
Because this metal will burst once the pin is pulled
And these fingers will tremble once the words are read
And I just don’t want to be lonely

I don’t want to fall asleep every night
Half drunk
With no one to hold
Maybe
Squeeze like a worry stone

Soak up my fear
You beautiful aftermath
Of word craters
And ink splatters

Let me stain you with a happy accident
Of simple passion
With the words you were looking for
So you can finally explain how you’ve felt

Know
I’ve felt that way too

It’s what I do
I feel sometimes

So take this
Ticking time bomb
Of bitter patience
And the need to be accepted
And the need to be useful
And the desire to be better

BOOM

You feel me?

Allan keeps forgetting that his knees are sacred
There is not always solace granted from the bodies he prays to
Neck craned howls for love
Some deity’s fingers running through his hair

Allen is not good looking
And he forgets that no one ever hated a man
Who wanted good things for other people
Forgets that true beauty lies in the hands
And is seen by what they do

Your hands are beautiful
She said,

They can buy someone coffee
When it’s cold
They can make people warm

They do more than his mouth can

They speak languages
Entire languages

In the 7th grade
Christy Turtch slapped him once
For making eyes at another girl
It made his face warm with pain
His eyes wet
Allan bought her flowers
Glued googly eyes to the petals
Gave her a note
See. Only ever had eyes for you.

What Allan doesn’t know yet
Is that to get into heaven
Peter checks knees for scars
Checks hands for beauty
Checks eyes for everything else

Allan’s knees look like the moon
From the ways that he prays
Spotty gravel craters
Dimpled with the fear of
Maybe I won’t feel so lonely this time

His hands can hold someone’s head
His own head
Can make someone fall asleep with them
Can hold them so tight
It keeps them from leaving

Allan keeps forgetting

He pushes against the ground to stand
Brushes himself off
Wipes his eyes
And smiles
He forgets