morning commute

hot sun, cool breeze
on the highway
beating down, blowing along

pair of raccoons
on the side of the road
dead
together

together
clearly from the same pack
mating for life

together
laying down
side-by-side
in the same position
facing the same direction
mirror images
drying in the sun

together

siblings?

or lovers?

in the dirt
on the side of the road

on some level
it's about control
and i'm sorry about that
insecurity
always is

You are the other half of me
as i am the other half of You
and so if there's something
about You
or something You do
that i do not understand
then i'm not understanding myself
i'm unsure of myself
i'm the definition of
insecure

the Thing
whatever it is
the particular Thing
that i have failed to understand
about You
about me
is completely
and absolutely
irrelevant
what matters
what's important
is that

I

Don't

Understand

everything else
is just window dressing  

i need to understand
in order to feel secure
in order to maintain the comfortable illusion
that i have some control over my life
over myself
that I have some understanding of
who i am
where i am
what i'm doing
what the **** is going on

so when i'm threatened
by my own confusion
i make inquiries
i ask questions
i try to understand
desperately
urgently
crucially
i have to try
i have to

and besides
there's no harm in asking
is there?

itch scratch itch
in my arm above the bicep
where my wedding ring is tattooed under my skin
find an overly large protrusion
never noticed
shouldn't be there
where'd it come from
push pull pinch the flesh
work it out
no pain
pleasant release of pressure as the skin
tears
rips
bleeds
drips
reveals
yellow-white tube
jutting now from the wound
and then it moves
writhes
twists
wiggles
in my flesh
turns black eyes to mine
pleading innocence
to be left alone
to continue consuming me
inside
where it's dark and warm

it Loves me
i know
because it lives inside
my wedding ring

it's stupidly sentimental but
I always feel a little sad when
it comes time to
shut the windows
for the year and
turn on the A/C
or the Heat
and start breathing our
electrically-modulated air

I feel as if I've
only just started to
work my way back out
into the world and
I'm not ready
I'm not ready yet to
go back inside
and breathe my own
rotten recycled breath

the breath of my city is
so much more
so much more delightful
so much more invigorating
so much more intoxicating
so much more
than me
I feel slightly lost and
alone when
this life requires that I
wall myself off from that
World breath
to hibernate through
our hot and cold winds

I'm not ready yet
I'm never ready
I'm still trying to find my way
out

please let this be
the bottom
and not some lost ledge
abandoned out of sight in the depths
beyond the light
holding me up to
the false hope of
an easy climb back
to the top
to stable grounds
and effortless ability

please let this be
the bottom
the real bottom
because
I don't think
my bones
could take another
fall

when I reminisce about
our Yesterdays
the recollections that stand out
above all the rest
as the most important
the remembrances that call to me
louder than all the others
to retain my attention again
and again
the memories that are painted
in the most vivid colors
to recall my mind's eye
repeatedly
and inexorably
are always of those times
when I've made you


Laugh


like that
just like that
the laugh I love the most
where it seems to almost
burst out of you
as if you couldn't hold it in
even if you'd wanted to
where your eyes crinkle up
the way they do when you're about
to cry
and your blood rushes to your face
rushes to greet me
and you become my favorite
shade of pink
just like that
you're at your most beautiful

how many times now
have I made you
lose control
this way?
made your body rebel
against your will
made you shake
in uncontrollable
ecstasy
that left you sore
and gasping for breath?

Not nearly enough

for of all the ways
I can please you
pleasure you
for of the whole range of choices
I have at my disposal
to make you shudder
in uncontainable joy
there is not one that returns to me
half as much delight
nor conveys half as much
of my desire
nor expresses half as much
of my love
as does the Gift
of getting to hear you laugh
at me
until you are entirely
spent

I'm hiding here
in this space where
I keep brutally exposing myself
I'm not really My self
I wear masks
and pseudonyms
and there's certain things I can't say
won't say
because I'm afraid of who will read them
and what they might learn about me
And sometimes I feel that makes
all of this
pointless
I am torn between two
equally important desires
I need to be raw here
I need to be violently open
I need to feel free to express
whatever I am feeling
for no other reason than the simple fact that
I am feeling
But I am also afraid
of the reactions I might get
afraid I might hurt someone
afraid of someone I know
learning something about me
that I don't want them to know
afraid they'll use it to hurt me somehow
I need to be wide open
but can only do it behind the safety of a mask
and even that isn't good enough
I still constantly self-censor
I have pages and pages of writings that no one
but me
has ever seen
will ever see
Even now
as I write this
I can't help but wonder at the reactions
I might get
from people I know
in real life
or people I know
in the wire
or people I've
never met
and that wondering changes me
changes my feelings
makes me second-guess
what I'm going to say
The only way my art can ever be
absolutely true
absolutely honest
absolutely Me
is if no one ever reads it
But what good is Expression
without Witness?
I need to have
an audience of strangers
for each poem
total strangers
that I will never have to see again
Or I should tag my poems on walls around town
in the middle of the night
like my little brother
(oh, gods, what if he reads this??!)

*******
I'm leaving it in