i will write you a happy poem
i will stitch it together in delighted diligence.
i wont clean behind the doorways with it
and i will keep it from the dirt and cobwebs.
and i wont bring up
what i shouldn't.
i will pick out the maggots
wriggling
with my teeth if
i need to.
and i will dress the ****** stumps in
gorgeous, coral lace. (which will only stain a little.)
heaving.
i will write you a happy poem, tucking in the rotten bits.
with high notes in
sandalwood and orange blossom.
it will have showers of sweet nothings exploding
in crystalline pink bits of
                                 cellophane
       that might stab in your eyes.
people will call it exotic and intoxicating.
              i'll dot my "i"s with *******
                                   little, red-ruby hearts
             so small you cannot see
                      the microscopic hairline cracks. (i promise)
                              i will painstakingly polish it
                              in earnest.
                              all spit shine and black lacquer.
                              sticky chinned grin
             and flushed cheeks from
love
or screams
or something like that.
                          ....and i know,
i'll wrap it up tight in ribbons. crimson.
                    fresh like a heart that has only just
stopped.
just sliced and steaming.
my perfect ingredients.
and i will tether it from me
to you.

i held you still- fearing you mistook parts of me
for parts of God
held my breath because i guess
being here meant more to me
than being mistaken for Omnipotent
or safety.
let your heart beat
a fragile little bird fluttering in it's cage. heart cage. rib cage.
i think you were moving too. counter rhythm. restful momentum.
i wasn't trying to trick you. or trap you.
but,
i gave myself this moment.
and godhelpme- i don't regret it.
later
in windfall and disquiet
it was still me that you came to.
me.

"You are having a bad day." he said,
looking up from my work i noticed
milky, blue eyes seeping- they were shimmering in the shadows,
of his fluffy spider-legged brows,
and secondary to his stupendous
potato nose. lilies. beep.
my heart may have skipped a beat, wondering if
another patron had taken offense
to a dispassionate expression that wore me more than i, it.
he fumbled with a money clip, already withdrawn. large, arthritic, veiny hands. looked down grappling--with ***** bills, smelling of *******, g-strings and *** sweat. was my mouth open, was i staring? baby pinks and stark white, peppered with
gentle,
fuchsia
explosions.
he tossed down a ten and reached in pockets that seemed too low, contorting into a teapot. short and stout. i heard coins mingling together. a discussion among themselves. hushed metallic whispers, pontificate on
the merits of
coin purse over
pocket travel.
here, reemerged a fist, clenched weakly and shaking, he dropped exact change on the ten,
they hesitated in vibration against the laminate counter, and spun on edge in circles.
"some" he said- my stare averting.
..."some" he repeated, only when i'd managed to meet his eyes with again,through an imagined haze of misunderstanding... sweet scent, shivering orange pistils, raining microscopic yellow dust. stargazers. i shifted the change from the counter to my hand.
"are worse
than others."
i delivered him his change in bills, the familiar clink of coins in my drawer somehow deafening. and i couldn't break my curious stare, he turned sharply, flowers wrapped in pink tinted cellophane, which crinkled in a whimper from his grasp.
he limped away, mud on his heels.
back to the cemetery.

spiritless and well oiled,/ /suspended in a floating film of/ /in-animation./ /weighty./ /threaded./ /the rambling nature of death./ /a slow spring,/ /thick and viscous... seething out of layered cracks./ /veining out as a muddied road map./ /but it's the hard bits that hit you hard./ /fingernails./ /they picked scabs./ /peeled citrus./ /scratched and plucked./ /and/ /and teeth once white. eclipsed by gray./ /they smiled, they bit nervously on pencils./ /perhaps had work done./ /(maybe just a filling.)/ / what was kept solid with an inner structure- yet unraveled./ /ragged bones./ /reduced in years and yet remain/ /adipose in apodosis./ / shadowed mutely / / with whispers of those ragged bones./ /

i was once
young and
spilled out messy and passionate
dyed my hair too much
worked my fingers to the bone
bled
listened to good music
too loud
faked smiles
loved people deeply
who didn't deserve it.
pulled down the moon
and then the stars
and swallowed them
one
by
one
when i was young i
raised eyebrows
screamed and didn't stop.
burst into
dizzying
clouds of glitter and insensibility.
i wrote because
i thought my words might mean something to someone
someday
i thought i might as well
leave a mark
since i knew but didn't feel it.
i felt but didn't know it.
i'd be here for just a short while.
i filled up notebooks and journals
and sometimes i left them blank
because
i figured saying nothing
is
sometimes saying more than
saying something
i rode on trains for too many stops
because
i didn't know where i was going
and didn't care.
wore clothes that were
too big
traveled in cars that
were
much too drunk
to stay in the lines
based myself on baseless
meaningless
gestures.
didn't keep up with my responsibilities.
was unmistakably human.
pushed people away
crossed boundaries.
lit the world on fire
pretended like i didn't understand
chased shadows
when i could have been enjoying the sunlight.
i cried until my eyes were yellow and puffy
laughed until
my stomach ached and pulsed
sometimes for no reason
shivered and
banked sideways on
shores of quivering destruction
acted like i was
unbreakable
when i was young