Crying ******* the side of the road,
a broken girl and nothing more.
A tainted soul, unguided *****.
A broken girl and nothing more.

Homeless man begging for some change,
a homeless making minimum wage.
****** his life and threw it all away,
for a ***** white in some nice lingerie.


Tattooed man behind cold steel bars,
thought he'd get away with stealing cars.
Looks like he didn't get too far,
another ****** ******* up our tax dollar!

Drugged up man on the beaches of L.A.,
took his life and threw it all away,
for used needles and a little *******,
thought addiction was a game he could win, what a shame.

**** it all and throw it away,
looking for life in all the wrong places.
I will admit though, just this one time,
their life sure sounds more interesting than mine.

It’s almost 6, and the night is fighting with the last rays of sun,
Its armor and sword are both stronger the glow of sun, Stars comes out like your eyes, breathing down my neck,
Sitting across the Chinese restaurant in, with a cigarette dangling in your fingers blazing as harshly as bitumen laying on road as your skin on my skin was last night
You have been constantly eying me like I am breast of the freshly cut chicken,
I take slow sips of my beer, opening and reopening my fortune cookie, but it’s already been cracked and my fate has been sealed,
I pity the planets and us, we all are stuck in our orbits, and we always talk about the corruption in Russia and about pirates in Somalia,
We take detour of this city, and only this one, driving circles around the Wal-Mart, buying coffee beans and condoms,
I quiet my raging mind, which writes essays about the Greek gods and Atlantis; it fights with the night, but night plays word-games,
It twists its words into lyrics of lovers and pours them in my mouth, and twists its fingers in my ******
Its, almost 8, there are two bottles on the table, emptied like my heart, your ash tray full like your lungs with smoke and lust
Its 8, and sky is cobalt with streaks of lighter shades passing through like the Helicopters on Independence Day and I take this as my sign, and leave 20 dollar bill and a letter which screams “I’m gone”,

Bustling street and a Vegas sky welcomes my heart to the possibility of finding Atlantis.

Hey, darling, did you see my heart fall out from my chest, walk backwards, trace that air kissed pathway and look for my heart dropped, lying like a trash, toffee wrapper in front of that rose hued walled café which serves the blueberry coffee with Irish cream that you love the way sea loves the shore, pick it up love, hold it in your hand, and walk backwards, you are one of those people who never leave a novel in the middle, please don’t throw me away, I am not stale yet ,but yes I am delicate like a flower, pour water and place me in vase, will you dear? I know you have had a chunk of it, its little filthy filled with bite marks, girls with dewy eyes and hair colored brighter than spring and darker than winter stole away my summer, but will you trace it and breathe your crimson colored fall leaves into it, they will burn brighter than the candles at Christmas.

Hey darling, walk backward to the starting point, when we met for the first time, at that Mexican restaurant downtown where you always drank Sangria with slice of mandarin orange on the side, I was the glass that you sipped through, did you notice I was scarred on the rim, your tongue slipped through, and deepened the cut down the surface, funny how I was never able to pierce your tongue and you trampled all over my heart like way rivers trample over the rocks in between the course of their flow, walk toward, to where you placed my heart in a vase, darling please wrap it up in bandages and kiss it ,I sleep wrapped up in your quilt for the last time in your queen size bed, please darling, fit my heart inside my body with half of yours attached to it like the planktons to the sea floor .

Hey darling, I have a heart big enough to forgive you, for I know you hold your breath inside your lungs for too long and never sing out the lyrics you write every night, darling, wake me up, trace the skin covering the rib cage, fold your hand into mine the way origamists turn sheets into work of art, and lets walk forward, walk forward giving into a start of a new season.

When I was six years old
I went trick or treating
with my mom and my neighbor Lexi.
I was a scarecrow
and she was a princess.

At age fourteen
I went trick or treating
with my best friend Mikayla
dressed up as a witches.
We were in middle school
and it was about the time
when we were starting to think
we were getting too old for this.

Age seventeen
I don't even remember what I wore.
But I went to a party
and got drunk
with twenty of my closest friends
and we all walked to McDonald's
at 3 am.

I am less than two months shy
of being nineteen years old
and I'm sitting in my college dorm
about to go to sleep.
I don't really have any friends.
I forget what fun is supposed to be like sometimes.


I miss smiling
at more than just
my boyfriend.





*CVT

in the end, she was a pair of beautiful hands and he was mostly a heavy head.  in the beginning, she fed him too eagerly and wore a short dress of one color.  his own hands were hearing things and she’d put them on his ears.  he was either an unknown writer or a bill collector.  he scripted for her the last lovely times of the empress of bullish desperation.  as a young fathoming she knew him constantly.  I’ve ghosted for them since I can remember but am open to the possibility I haven’t.  touch is not touch but is where it’s hidden.

cutting your **** off is not something you fail at.  when I ask you where it’s at you will first be sad to have a mouth at all and second say legend has it.  my thinking is trying to think in a helicopter.  you climb a tree to drop a rifle from it.  I have so many real friends and I call them my gay odds.  and so many dreams that these waking hours pass only to embellish them.  if there is one thing it is Elliott Smith the name of a hungry deer.

Eve's on Highway 70.
Been on it for some four hours.
After dialing the ten digits on
the cracked cell screen,
she turns it on speakerphone.
It rings once.
To the side of the road, a sign reads,
World's Tallest Prairie Dog.
It rings twice.
She wonders how long the wind
has been red; how long until
the red sun gives up.
It rings three times.
There are birds flying up ahead.
She wants to call them by name.
But what good would it do?
It rings four times.
He picks up.
Her lips are chapped.

I'm fine, Jay. Thanks.
Just calling to tell you
that I'm in the state.

What state?

Your state?

What do you mean?

I'm in Colorado.

What? What are you doing here?

Am I not welcome?

No, no. It's not that. Why didn't you tell me?

I wanted it to be a surprise.

I hate surprises.

Nobody hates surprises.

I do.

She's silent for a beat.
The birds are still ahead;
she races toward them but never gains.

Why didn't you tell me? he asks.

I just told you.

I think something's wrong with my phone.
I can hear an echo.

I have you on speaker.

Why?

My internal mic is broken.

Internal mic? What does that mean?

I don't know.

Where are you going?

Fort Collins. I have family out there, I guess.
Some cousins. Are you on the way?

Am I on the way to Fort Collins?

Yes.

No.

That's not what I want you to say.

What do you want me to say?

Just try again.

Eve, I don't think this is a good idea.

Try again.

What?

Try again.

I can hardly hear you. There's wind or something.

With her index finger she nudges the volume ****
to no effect. She puts her knee on the steering wheel.
She rolls up her window.

Say what I want you to say, she says.

I'm on the way, Jay says, if you take the long way.

I'll be there by six. What should we do?

You could start by apologizing.

So could you, Jay. What should we do?

Say that one more time--the phone.

What should we do when I get there?

We'll figure something out.

I hope, she says.

cruelty gets an ulcer.  this is my first *******.  this is your kid making my kid sick.  I have achieved total comprehension.  you are so vignette.  your kid is a licked window.  my kid is two feet can’t touch the belt of a treadmill.  my kid is love.  is *notaltogether lostly.  is if you have a pain in your tongue like a nap.