on sunday mornings we eat frozen waffles and
wash our faces with stale coors light and the tears
of our mamas that we kept in plastic water bottles from
the time when they cried cause their babies were leaving
for the first time and we wait and we wait for the day to be
over so that we can feel like we’re alive again.
pray for us. pray for sunshine. pray for freedom.

-d.k.

dawn whispers softly
its conch shell pink lip placed
on the sky's dark ear


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/17/2017

I was never the hero of
My own life. Nor did I try to
Be. I ran. No Red Badge of Courage.

No Olympiad. No laurels to be placed
On a head bowed in humility. I ran...
In the wrong direction. I had a Dragon
To chase, you see. No St George,
However. I wanted to embrace the
Monster, and take it home. And in
Doing so, i was severely burned
In the process.

I've spent a majority of my life
severely addicted to drugs and
Alcohol. Anything. ***. Amphetamines.
Acid. ***... Anything that could
Alter my pathetic state. I was the
Walking Wounded. Dead. My drug
Of choice was *******. Crack. It did
The job better than anything else
I tried. The euphoria a road to
That fabulous beast unlike any other.
That pipe and lighter its flaming maw.

But, ironically, the rock of my shame
Lead to the Rock of my Salvation.

And I finally ran... into Jesus's arms.

-- when I have the tenderness of a writhing dragon,
he will paint flowers across my throat

as though to remind me that fires are indelicate,
and that I writhe in a prison made of open space.
-- this man will not smother me with his skin
when we sleep.
-- this man will unhinge the door of my mouth,
and kiss out the bullets stuck under my tongue.
                                                                ­               ---
whatever thousandth day I awaken beside this man,
realizing I have become the flowers he painted
across my throat, by braving my throat,

I will, unchaining myself from the draconic worry,
bring him his coffee in bed, with a smile.

"i love you" is hollowing
three words aren't enough for me
(they were until my brain ate them whole. now they echo inside my ears, bounce around until my head has had its fill)
tell me i'm better than the others
tell me you haven't come close to loving another soul the way you love mine
tell me that you weren't functioning
that you were a clock without hands
time flew by in the wrong direction and the numbers on your face were a dead language
until we fell together
and then you started counting in real time and loving every tick of every second

i want you to be aggressive
brand your love into the side of my skull
scar it into my collarbones
make my illness remember

i want you to carve my name into your ******* heart
i want you to grab ahold of my lungs and breathe your love into them
make sure it's the only thing i know
send it flooding through my bloodstream
i need my illness to remember

when i'm like this,
don't tell me you ******* love me
your skin is made of cellophane
i can show you exactly where the lie is coming from
my own head can't take care of me,
how could you?
tell me you'd cut off your hands if they couldn't hold mine
tell me you'd wiggle your way into my ribcage if you could
just so you could be closer to the beat of my heart
tell me you love me and make my illness believe it