face
mouth, eyes
blue, brutal blue
fluid young thing
I succumb to
no
not any more
try distractions
a diligent bore
can't
ignore
you, young thing
a ****
rumored *****
love me more

run as ragged
as a dog, lost
without a home
or a bath
in need of a good
haircut

love until others distract you
you might even say
as ******
as uncooked poultry
cut up and seasoned
raised cage free

I feel like you now, and it hurts--
this pencil's shadow is ashamed.
Why did you yell like that?
When I was six,
was seven
was twelve
seventeen, eighteen.
Where to place the blame?
On you, the bottle
your small origins
your father,
gone before you could read.
That poor woman, your wife
her smile flattened for how long now?
You try and guess who I am
who I've become
who I will be.
The answer
not you.

a bright bright bright
seventeen year old girl
dead
replaced by nature
the world's cruelty persists
(the only thing that does)
imagine mom and dad
when at 9:30 pm
one phone call
puts out the warmth of the home
nothing but tears now
poor, lost souls
running amok in the darkness
of their heart,
their
faith

there's that pain in my chest
your plaid quilt on my back
and the wind whips louder than the crows
speaking their nonsense
watered down thoughts
that leave your brain
and escape from your eyes
--all dried up now

defied, defiled
a river bed dries up
crows contrast the overcast sky
all my images lead to nothing
fake audience laughter
stains on the white carpet
all those miserable feelings
my wretched gut
the doctor says I'm fine
guess I'll take a walk
pass the dead river
and the crows ******* on the street

we felt the first cold
cuddled.

my neck and your nape
nestled.

the white around us
settled.

smile, bell
ring ring
you move a simple muscle
atop the lonely states
lets travel together
someday...
blue sedan
with music, top hits
not so patient so
please don't be late
your arrival means more
and less
each day

my girl is gone
in a red car off to somewhere
Italian, small
probably looking cute
with those tears raining down
and it's raining down
i want her to drive back
i want to hear her small engine roar
i want her to say
"it was a mistake"
and it was
and love doesn't always play fair
and the brain doesnt always play fair
there's fear in places where it shouldn't exist
yet, it's there and fear
makes one unpredictable
makes one rarely think