89 degrees and humid, sunset at 8:30.
Eastern barbeque smokin out in the backyard
the grass is getting lo-o-o-ong, but
it can wait until next Sunday.
iced tea, sweet, sinful tea
and no cowboys in sight.
just Low Drawled Camouflage Men
and Freedom to Own a Gun,
black n milds, porch swings and
mosquitoes turn up in your ear holes
like politicians touting their pro-life campaigns.

There are orange canyons
against a crystal sky that I would like
to return to someday.

Fat cacti sit amongst the
landscape of Mars, of
one hundred and seventeen degree
heat,

oppressive weather, like God left us in
his car while he went to do some
errands, and forgot to crack the windows.

I would still like to feel that once
more before I go on to some greener
pasture. Some Colorado spring where
I could believe in miracles
all wrapped in
gold, trapped in the bottom of a blue river.
Where I could start my life
over.

you were sitting on a chair, in a shallow pool. your feet were submerged. everything was grey and blue. she approached you and started kissing you, like really kissing you. but it wasn't her. it was her memory-ghost.
i don't know.
i was next to you. i kissed your neck. slowly, and surely. like your skin was going to provide a better future for me.
i kissed your shoulder. then, your collarbone, your throat. i wanted you to know i was going to win you over with these kisses,
and then
it was just us. our two mouths, submerged in our pool of water, our own world. it was slow, careful, heavy.
then i pushed you backwards in your chair, to see
if you would get up. to see how badly you wanted me again.

Every day that we don't speak
brings me closer to knife-shiny clarity...
the kind of voice in my head
that motivational speakers
tell you not to listen to!
i've messaged you (x 4)
and you've left me fuckall.
You've left me, *******.
I need money, I need money, I need love. I
need something more than
Euros transferred into dollars, I need
compassion and some sense of stability
and a trust that only comes from a
voicemail waiting for me as I wake up.
i know the time difference is ... a difference,
and there's been a whole lot of time
I've had for my thoughts to fill me up
like a black water bathtub.

guilt will peel you back
and expose your motivations,
your inner self.
the altitude on a high horse
will pinch your lungs,
it's a long way down
to humbleness

i took root. settled into birthdays without
fathers,
men attempting to reckon with me. saying they'd
like to hold me like the crescent moon against the black
(i am the night light that ran out of life)
texting me, texting me, texting me,
coaxing me out of my cave
and then shooting me in the back,
blowing out the candles, snuffing my breath.
the hunt, the chase, the game.
i'm stuck in this trap for another year