rather than think:
i miss you

i say,
i'd rather not

eight ante meridiam

cinnamon toast in the solarium

i'm not much different than the mutt basking on a chaise opposite

stick it to me

with false pretenses and fluttering lashes

waylaid kisses and promises of breakfast

can't you see what i'm trying to do
it's about ******* time you knew

so cold it's almost hot
your face an apparition in the backyard lot

broken glass above snow above grass

leave it to the espresso machine
to laugh at my loneliness

a *** is meant for two
not one
not three

what's that there in your hand

it's nothing

less the gaping cavity in my sternum says otherwise

second place ribbons are usually red
they're all i ever win
or lose anyways

so i'll knit myself a scarf from a hundred of the fibers
and when i've clawed at my neck and started to bleed
no one will be able to tell red from red
dead from dead

here's to
ugly green envy

and hot water from blackened and forgotten pots
boiling over onto things you thought were clean

******* Then/Take The ******* Sun With You (Tongue In Cheek)

yesterday
you said yes
and let me
come close
enough
to count
the freckles
i never
knew
you had

no perks to being this wallflower

we haven't even reached tyronne street

           /the end of our lives

we've still got a block to walk

          /twenty years together

left & leaving

the sun ain't sleeping

tears thick on lashes
cloud one's vision

what's the stupid smirk doing on your face

wipe
        it
           off

it's a disgrace

syllables flicker
between
unrelenting self pity,
and berations
poorly disguised
as remorseful verses

you're a real piece of work
all rothko
and no manet

boring lines
keeping the colors
from conversing

i refuse to do what i'm told

shovel the driveway

why?
the snow's not doing anyone any harm
the concrete is no less cold
when bare
and buffeted by small, stamping feet

morning
could come
and there would be
no way
to wring
my hands
of their
loneliness

it's no use,
leave the earth around our tomb alone


there are no flowers left there
for bees to pollinate
with whispers of why we fell

learn to speak slowly
and deliberately

so that  my eyes
might understand you
better
than my ears

toothpicks
won't pick
the ****
from out beneath your gums

nor will
denial
cauterize the memories
off your nerve endings

index
Ba-Be

Back dimples,


pg. 22-?

back
to
morning ***** tonics
and
*******
white ****** cigarettes

suffice
it to say

i don't care
for the way you sell yourself

in all illogical functions
and song lyrics

i'll never again
look at any girl longingly

the glint in their eyes
never means
come here

instead it always says
*i know

we're not here
to serve as a distraction
from the real ignorance
that plagues you
like jaundice
on a yellow moon

how well
do i know
that slow
heartache
of waking
to the moon
and not the sun

where
one
begrudgingly
learns
a cruel lesson or two
in
humanism

frantically
retreating
like my ******* father's hairline

you're neither girl
nor woman

i'm a man,
you're a machine
i fed too many numbers

i suppose
now
i needed another mother
not a child that needed
looking after

re:

we've still got our mouths

mine doesn't ever tread lightly

we don't all know that sinking

feeling

thinking

nobody else wants to understand me

the windy city
won't let me light any cigarettes



no matter, second hand smoke rules these streets
and i'm already in love

respectfully declining
an invitation
to have at
the pieces of your heart

overcooked, i would say

if only
just for two
or three
ticks
or
tocks
of the clock
you stopped
thinking of me

my misanthropy
isn't as naturally
occurring
as the dullness
of your tongue

the world isn't ending
don't try carrying me away
with swipes of a double edged sword
verbose lunges
now that kisses aren't so quick and
sharp

mother
watch me burn
through
these matchbook girls
all flimsy cardboard
and acrid sulfur
so dim
a soft spring whistle
blows them out

lay low
in the grass
and laugh
as red sweeps your wrists
hands sway with stalks
of golden wheat

buy
back
the vast grey
and reclaim
pluto as a planet

maybe the martians
will better understand
those childish musings
that are your thoughts

as haunting
as the rigidness of your back
or suppleness of where that straight line leads

i
for anyone else wondering when it will stop
it won't
stop trying to fill the cup
bottoms been cut out
we'll always move across dimly lit rooms
and lick at our petal blossom wounds
waiting on someone to dress them
while ******* themselves

ii
if i could hide in the valley between your milky ribs
i wouldn't mind the sand
or storms
of stranger's fingers
i swear

it's that natural light
while making friends
with shy dust

that makes me feel most happy
and less cold

we can't all laugh off another's
longing
and
eye roll so beautifully.

the constellations
i could
draw
with kisses
in the valley
between
each
milky rib

morning would come
and cast a shadow off your lower lip
the dark valley always
signals
for me to kiss you awake.

cause
you can't miss
what
you
forget

i treat you like i do a ripe peach
nuzzle smooth skin
and search for that scent
which tells me to smile
and sink incisors in

tie back
those homely strands
with extravagant bows

you're nothing more
than
a box
inside a box
inside a box
inside a box
inside an empty
box