growing up, i lived on the
highways between FL & KY
either in the cab of my dad's truck
or the backseat of my mom's ford.

streetlights became stars, &
the stars became my universe
i saw my first meteor at 3am
on the road back from TN.

Halloweens were spent in the cab
with Bugle's on my fingertips,
cackling like a witch.

Christmas was an adventure,
stuffed into the backseat between
blankets & winter clothes.

breakfast was a McGriddle,
lunch was a bag of chips & soda
from the gas stations & truck stops,
and dinner was my favorite, always
at ******* Barrel, beside the fire place
surrounding by my family & others.

the highway is my home, &
i wouldn't have it any other way.

he painted me from
dusk blue stardust &
pearl pink sea
foam.

his hands that held
the horse hair brush
were trembling timid
nervous, blush red.

his eyes were confident
bold like the emerald green
gemstone he so earnestly
desired to be.

van gogh swallowed yellow
paint in hopes of consuming the sun
so that his flesh and bone would
shine as bright as his heart.

Sometimes separation is key;
the moon was once part Earth,
but she glows on her own now.

the sun was bright that day
leaving freckles in my skin
burning brown grains of sand
stepping a little too far inland
losing sight of the sea
looking for the snake's oolong tea

theft ain't bad if you're taking
from the thief
got nothing to lose, friend,
just like you
you know how it is

oh, hello
i'd never steal from you
just wanted to look around
admire the place
you've got a pretty good setup here
no, i'm not a kiss-***, i'm being for real

scraping my knees on the rocks near
the shoreline, digging sand into my skin
the reddening streaks on my legs
remind me of the sunset
pain is nothing, i tell myself
kneeling and praying to god
for mercy upon mine soul

but this doesn't get old
face flushed with relief
my pockets full of the snake's
very aromatic oolong tea

Sitting in the shower
High under the porch
A ponder before bed
message at midnight
Regret in the morn
Eyecontact *****
Intention ellipses
Godsent personal hell

bad boy, i got a weakness
i like the taste of blood licked from my
own hands from being reckless
tearing hearts out their intended
cavities and im afraid my mouth
is cold from being exposed

i guess i keep the charade
of getting mad at you
for not buying me cigarettes
or not telling me to quit them depending
if im interested in you

i go to the gym to heal
all of my mistakes instead of church
and its cuffing season
want you to tie me to your mast

and leave me there all season
then afterwards we'll never text each
other again because you're a bad boy
and you are no good for me

it's that time of the year
again
full of dry skin and
dryer eyes
emotions feeling like
woollen sweaters
in the sunlight
feeling like regret, feeling
like very not right
feeling like the whole season
makes you sleepy, makes it night
darker mornings, darker times
and it's well known
we all feel a little more alone
at night.

a single daffodil
burns
in the shadows
of the earth
as it turns
and we
still
can't
speak.

(do the comets sing?
                                             do ten thousand asteroids whisper when        
                                             our kisses sting?)

i know what this is,
this is madness,
this is craving for a touch, for the
self-destructive nature
of his clutch, these are
soulmates who only
want it rough,
these are kisses
and we never get enough:
these are chances
and we only get them once.