Kyler– you are my favorite **** actor
because you look like its your first time,
and you look like my first time. It's disgusting, really.

When I began to feel like what is normal these days,
I groaned and I moaned
and I spoke to a doctor
who believed in homeopathy
and a hypnotist who believed my lies
until it all lost focus and I cut myself
in the worst of places–
where no one would see it
because they were private parts and nobody wanted them.
And the Reason came along and tried to kiss it all better
but infected me instead with this insatiable lust.
And now he’s fine; probably has a boyfriend
while I’m stuck wondering if I am even capable of
loving.
And its having said that that I offer a request–
find a studio that will suspend you from the ceiling
and whip you.
You look exactly like him.

glowing waters, tranquil as though the ocean were holding its breath
and yet breathing in and out, in and out
rhythmic, an inexorable drum

an explosion of ripples as I drop the kayak in,
the disturbances swallowed by marsh grass, waving in protest
murmuring to be still, stay still.

I shift in my seat, heartbeat in my ears, loud breathing
scared of being swallowed, lost to depths where darkness clung –
yet hardly imaginable in this world of dripping sunlight.

dip the paddle in, tasting the waters
right, left, right, left
cautious, careful, clumsy at first
splashes of droplets as I pick up the pace,
salt on my tongue, tasting the burn.

the pull and tug of muscle against the world, a silent war
the ocean protesting futilely, but  
surrendering to the kayak with a creaking moan

as I shoot through the water like an arrow, splitting the curling, white-crested sea.

the wind picks at my braid and throws it to the past with a lingering sigh
my paddles cutting through that glossy mirror of cloud and sunshine
shards of brilliantly stained glass.

I wanna hit traffic
But I don't wanna be patient
I want it all
But then I want just a little bit
Just keep me guessing
Even though I'm complaining
I still  kind of wanna jump your bones

I don't even know how to explain it
It's like I'm sitting here
Watching what was once myself break down
There is no real smile
Cannot force out a tear
The most comfortable place
Is laying on the tile floor
Smoked three too many cigarettes
Without a single thing to eat
No matter how many times I lay down my head
I cannot seem to fall asleep
It would all be okay
If I just knew why
Why? Why do I feel like this?
I am alone.
It's happened before
No one knew how to help
I wish I knew how they could help
Even if I did they are not here
I am alone.
This place is new
Who to trust?
Who even would care?
It's not about them, it's not their fault
I am alone.
here
I am alone.
I just dream of being aware
of what I am feeling
At any given time
If only I could put my finger on it

We'll drive and drive
All night long
Leaving everything
Behind us
Drive until the whole
Tank of gas is gone
and we'll get
Lost
unlike we've ever been lost before
Where we don't know the right way home
It's be hours
before we find our way
But this is all we need
Just three kids running around
Trying to find ourselves

I was right. All composed of circles, but
Not a bad thing
Relations make life worth living and
Knowledge of them dispels any notion that
It is not

So deeply intertwined the little glimpses
Matter, carry
Explosive realizations in their handbags

It is hot, we are more than
Excited molecules and yet not
Really, excitement is relative
And we enjoy being excited

Heat transforms into a manifestation of
Interrelation awareness

Our world is largely cold and digital
Not to say we need to be

Neutrality is too often stifled by
Polar hands

Green is the color of life
Not the neon green of toddler toothpaste
Or the gray-green swirls of size-14 bowling *****
But the forest green, the deep vitality of a leaf or stem
Underlies every important thing we encounter

The shoots stuck between my toes, fragile leaves
Crushed under thoughtless steps from relative giants
Don't you agree?

The contemptuous, superfluous, inconspicuous, jealous
Lies we spout to justify our conformity when
There is no justification, no yelling
No calloused hands begging in corners for change
Dusty old tires churning along vacant streets
With dusty old memories trailing behind