soul *******
self loathing
slow moving
seen exploding

bruised souls
hurt and it takes
an eternity to heal
what you can't see

hope holding
hands hanging
hear heaven
help handed

ears listen for
what they want
and the rest is burned
in a metal can

what i wouldn't give
to have fifty hands
and seventy two
brains so that
i could do it all

i'd take you
home and wrap
you up in something
warm and explain
to you why this
scary world isn't
going to hurt
you once more

instead i'm stuck
here wishing i
was better

you know
just as soon
as i'm settled
here you come
crashing in
like a trucker
asleep at the
wheel while
driving back
and forth from
coast to coast

my god do i
welcome these
collisions full
of rainy phone
conversations
and hopeful
hints of something
beautiful to
come my way

i'll come see
you in a dog
pile and we'll
find ways to
figure out
how to make
the unworkable
work because
we can and i
want you more
than i want
anyone and,
jesus, that's
what counts,
isn't it?

so what if
we're chock
full of fights,
fears, and
fantasies?
we're both
just children
looking for
a hand to hold
and yours
feels better
in mine
than most

you know the first time
that you go home after
you've finally cut
the 20-something year old
cord, and you
sit at the dinner table like
always, in the same seat
you've sat in since you
left your high chair, and
dad's made turkey enchiladas,
and you're reaching for
the hot sauce, and then
just as he grabs it to hand
it to you, you notice it first
in the age spots, and then
you follow it to the white
in his beard, and then it's
all written in his deep set eyes,
and his crows feet, and his
cheek bones that seem to
stick out more than ever
and you can't seem to
peel your eyes away
from the man you've known
since birth, even though
you could paint his
face with your eyes closed,
or at least his face the
way you still see it when
you have your
eyes closed

dad, when did you get old?

broken hearts
feel good frozen
in black ice because
they've lost their
feeling and i've
lost my sight

you have eyes
that don't see like mine
and i can't reach the peep
hole in the back of your skull,
so i guess i'm never going
to understand

walk slowly
now because things
are suddenly
slippery and
your balance
has never been
that great

thom yorke,
when will you teach me
that lightning does strike
twice, but the second time
the electricity ******* hurts
so much worse
because you know
just what's coming

it's not there,
i feel it

sprinkles splatter on
tight clad legs in december,
and it should be snow, but
the clouds are thinking
of committing suicide
and haven't got anything
to spill but tears

i'm smoking bowl after
bowl, trying to ease a mind
full of manic mutations
and masterfully marred
optimism

geminis have a strange
way of guessing the words
that will slip out of lips
of ones like themselves,
and tonight i've found a
human who entered this
world just a week
before me

it's almost like a secret club,
but the secrecy is terrifying
in an electric way, and i'm
plugged into an outlet
ready to be fried as i
spill broken heart after
broken heart to a man
that understands me
all too well

he tells me that he
knows not why i ask
for advice, because
the truth is i'm stubborn
and stuck and i know
what i want, i'm just
wasting away with pride,
posture, and predictability
every moment that i don't
go and get it

tonight i'll lay in bed
and as my mind drifts
my forehead will open
and through layers of
brain, skull, and skin
will emerge a lens

upon my ceiling
a memory will project
of you taking my hands
and making me dance
while smiles lifted
our lips and took
control of our
desperate hips

i'll watch from the
outside while others
wish they could have
what we don't even
know that we have

i'll watch you look
at me the way that
you do and how
i must stand on the
tips of my toes to taste
the lips that i long for

i'll drift off to dream
of those hands that
hold mine and find
moments within madness
to make me swing,
smile, and slip
back into a place
where i found love

speak silently now
because whispers
are all that we can
afford on a simple
budget of fool's
dreams and past
pretenses

i want to love you
in the worst way
that makes my skin
crawl and teeth
chatter as i lay
in bed thinking
of your too smooth
skin and sad, strange
eyes

the past punctures
dreams and shows
me what my heart
has not forgotten,
one broken piece
at a time

i think i'll take
a ride now, and fly
over this city on
my bike until
hands freeze to
handlebars and
i forget what
standing still is

***** sock
balled up
dipped in
dog ****
old sweat
horse ****
shoved in
my chest
as deep
as deep
goes

all to
find one
way to
stay away
and rue
the day
that i
found love

***** mess
sick skin
dead girl
walks on
alone

how to
clean
and find
a way
to take
back
death
i do
not
know

study finger prints,
raw meats, strange sounds,
humans on the sidewalk,
cracks in the faces that
we're given, slow moving
birds saying their goodbyes

take all of these particles
of life, of love, of whatever
it is we're put here to do

take them and put them
somewhere safe
because one day either
we'll be gone, or they will,
and the missing will go on
infinitely, it will go on

it will resonate off of
old walls that used to
house our twin sized beds
on dusty wood floors,
then deep into canyons
out west that look like sand
castles shoveled by tiny hands
at race point beach on the
fourth of july,
then through metros
that rush all day but never
really end up anywhere

they will brush by those
who feel the sudden change
in the air around them,
like a hand touching their shoulder,
or the wind spewing
from their lungs a little
too quickly

they will sit and wonder,
and they will begin to study
the sand in their shoes,
moonlight through branches,
children's books, the way
bricks are laid, how a face
can crumple or illuminate
at a moments notice

they will take these pieces
and tuck them away, just
as the impending infinite
missing closes in

excuse me while i sit here
and dog ear Ginsberg
while hurricane and humanity
battle outside of my window,
and i'm wondering why i'm not
at work as sunrays speak
of sin in soggy song

this world is full of death,
disguised as martyrs making
their mark on an otherwise
unscathed blank canvass
and i'm trying to see the
art behind all of it

where blood smears meet
spoken psalms and bruised
blood vessels speak of silent
sighs, the last breath to escape
you as you charge toward
the pearly gates

i'm wondering who taught you
that life is invaluable, that the
only thing that matters is
how you leave it, and then
i open up your shirt,
button by button and see
the answers tattooed brutally
on your collar bones,
angels look up to the precipice
and there sits the ruler of them all,
God.

i wish then that i could unbutton
your skull and peek in to see
memories of mother scarring
you into submission, priest
preaching prayer with prolific
posture, grandma growling
through grins of god fearing
centuries, instead,
i'll hold you as your skin
turns blue and i won't cry
for you even if the angel
that comes to retrieve you
asks me to, i won't, because
i know this is just what
you asked for

i am trying to find
the space where i feel
anything because of this

tragedy, sadness, self pity, guilt,
none of it comes

instead, a strange calm
continually washes over me
as if i lay on the sea shore
waiting for the tide to whisk me away

i've thought so much about loss,
what it means to feel that
dull empty ache that radiates
from the bottom of your ribcage
up to the back of your throat

the kind of loss that brings
tears to your eyes with every
sad song you hear, every image
of a baby you see, every man
who brushes by with a mustache
like the one that tickled my nose

i begin to wonder if i'm cold,
too calculated in my logic,
but i knew what i'd do
if this happened eons before
i decided i could turn off emotions
and ******* without any
sense of love or regret

tomorrow when i say goodbye
to whatever it is that you have
a mind to call this, i know i will
sit heavy with the fact that i
will never forget you and your
innate kindness, or what we
created and what i've done

perhaps tomorrow i will feel

I am a ghost chased by the present
Forever burrying my mind in the future
Under ancient texts and maps that tell
Of times the world no longer speaks of

I linger and I run, then I repeat,
Until my legs give way and I slip,
Tumbling through the earth until I land
With a thud on a different continent
And I am content there until
The locals begin to know my name

I am a shadow shrouded in anonymity
Smiling at strangers, but never speaking,
Looking vaguely out of transit windows
Like I'm learning something very important
From the senseless blurs that pass us by

I am alone and I am surrounded, all at once,
And I'm not afraid to die alone because
The truth is that we all do,
No matter who's holding tight to
Our old brittle hearts and our seasoned souls

In the end it's only going to be me
And I'm enough

my lips, like molten lava,
slipped words out with a fluidity
that appeared smooth and even

beneath the surface lay the heat of the sun

they yearned for one graze,
but those who looked closely
knew they would only be burned
upon first embrace

past lovers wore mouths
more akin to pulled pork,
two slabs of meat so disfigured
from my desire that the words
that now left them
could only be a jumbled mess

i felt guilt, but more importantly,
i had felt pleasure

and in my mind,
a few scorned lovers
didn't mean **** in the realm
where everything spins round
my lava lips

god help us if this is
what you meant
when you sent
little jesus'
in your wake,
after the prodigal son

full of die hard direction
on a path from which
they'll never stray,
these foot falls are misguided,
although their reasoning innate

hearts are full as they begin
on a journey
to save the needy souls,
but who are they
to judge sinners,
when they too
wear sinner's clothes

introspect, it escapes them,
while they smile
and explain to those around,
that, of course, they know better,
even if they haven't raised
this community from the ground

now myself,
I watch with wide eyes
through clenched teeth
and bitten tongues

my faith,
I find in humans,
that care deeply enough to understand
that a tree does not balance upon soil,
its roots are what makes it grand

sweat poured down my back,
pooled in my crack
in the seven am Arizona swelter

I waited for the gods to
break open the sky, or the earth
heaven or hell,
it didn't matter

one friend, four legs
though he sealed our fate
we dared not deny him

I wondered if I'd survive ten hits
while you went to take a ****
and the hills, with their eyes,
came alive
to surround me

I lost myself that day,
in the same instant that I threw you away
because betrayal
doesn't taste any better
locked in a six by six cell

Hawaiian prints lifted
numb lips into the closest thing
to a smile
as I recounted a gift from
my island girl,
with eyes gone blue on trial

I thought it poetic that we stood
in this sinking ship
hand in hand,
but now I know
we had been chained to the mast
by fate itself
long ago

our love was flushed down
with your chewed up and **** out
enchiladas

I hope to every god
in this universe
that you still taste
the acid
crawling up your esophagus

call me blind, call me bitter, call me *****,
call me insane

I am all of these things

but I will die knowing
that I have never been disloyal

we built our friendship
out of whiskey bottles,
bowl packs and friendly *****

porch sitting in the sunshine
and soaking in the laughter and stories
that raced from our lips
one after another
like derby horses darting from the gate

I admit that I still ache
for you,
but I've come to accept
this truth for what it is

so please forgive me if my
words perceive a penned phantom pain
for this life comes in waves
and I can't catch them all,
sometimes I get ****** into the depths,
lured by the undertow

i am ******* dying
to be something other
than a ***** hiding from
her own shadow,
twisting herself up in
senseless wants

maybe if i tattoo my skin
or gauge my earlobes
or pierce my nose
or wear band t-shirts no one's heard of
or go to shows and head bang alone,
then, yes,
then, i will be unique,
oh ****,
there's a tumblr for that,
actually, there are a thousand tumblrs for that,
moving on...

how about i try
wearing black and
hiding from the light,
pulling away until
i only come out at night,
speaking to no one
but the notebook i carry
everywhere with me,
ah, ****, that's been done too

here, here, how about this,
i'll enter the mainstream,
get my degree,
even work a job from seven to three,
marry a **** bag
with no sense of life,
have some kids,
and pretend i take joy in being a wife,
and then, when i'm having
his colleagues over for dinner,
i'll lose it and **** them all
with a butcher knife

as i backflip over
our ten thousand dollar
dining room set
they'll oooh and aaah,
and somehow forget,
that i'm ending their mediocrity,
instead they'll think,
what yoga studio did she join?
her legs are so much more
defined than mine

and as they all lay bleeding out
over their
steak tartar,
i will smile and smooth my
perfect blonde hair,
and wait
to join the leagues
of the unforgettable

i am holding my towel, mid-air,
arm outstretched,
fingers clenched,
with a millisecond to decide
if i throw it in

i hate that i've gotten this far,
but lately it's all fast forward
with little retraction, relfection, or restriction

i spend hours in the mirror
trying to see myself,
but there's this big headed *****
with green eyes full of envy
and a gaping hole of a mouth
full of excuses,
that refuses to get out of the way

it's funny that they call it plan b
because usually it's more like plan d
and even then, you're not really sure
that it's such a good plan at all

and even though the pharmacist
in wegmans doesn't flinch,
you still wonder what she's thinking
and the wondering goes on a long while

i watched **** tattooed men
make me drinks with 80 proof whiskey,
and tried to forget that i ******
someone i didn't give a **** about

that maybe, just maybe,
cells had begun to multiply,
but maybe they hadn't, and i
was feeling like ****
drinking my 10 dollar drink
for nothing

the next morning i woke up,
red lipped, wild curls framing
a face that spoke of last night's failures

i stood in front of the mirror
and i captured the face of a girl
the morning after

Can the unattainable be lost?
She pondered while surrounded
by the clutter of excess caused
by the burdens of consumerism.
To be on an endless journey, an
odyssey of sorts, with plenty of
valuable moral messages, but an
obvious lack of conclusion. Is
there worth? She had found
herself on such a path and
recently resolved that it was
one from which she would
never disembark. Searching
for a way to dive deep into
the sea of words swimming
within her cerebrum, in order
to pluck away the excess gunk
and strike gold. Years slipped by,
at first unnoticed, except for
the measure of improvement
upon lined pages. Still, she was
unsatisfied, and would most likely
always remain in such a state.
Somehow she had been born a
prisoner of her own mind.

i always say my neighborhood's got flavor
you say i give it too much credit

but what the **** do you know
about the puerto ricans across the street
who's little girls dance on plump legs
to music that vibrates their entire house

sure, you've seen the kingpin
that lives on our corner,
but you don't know that he plays
catch with his drug dealer's kids

and all those refugees
crowding up your corner store,
they're looking for an answer
just like you are,
but the difference is they've got
nothing to fall back on
because they're thousands of miles
from a friendly face and home

so when i tell you my neighborhood's got flavor
you should really say i don't give it credit enough

i fell in love to the sounds
of the sky falling down,
but the reflection of
the earth destructing
in your eyes
didn't bother me one bit

we laid there, holding one another,
knowing that we wouldn't
see this through,
that love couldn't conquer death,
but still, smiles and sighs
of utter satisfaction
lingered on swollen lips

urges of fight or flight
disappeared with each breath,
defined with depth
and even tempo, as we explored
the places we had pondered,
but never navigated before

i drowned in your arms,
and the panic caused by
the pressure on my lungs
never did come

love, the most powerful drug,
had made me numb,
and if i had to say good bye
for eternity, bare legs
tangled in fresh sheets,
wild curls on whale pillowcases,
hands holding hopeful hearts,
was the only way
i wanted to go

children born from the trees
scrape their way out of bark
and cut their limbs from roots
to take flight into the starry sky
that goes on for eternity

whispers from the wind guide
them to a land where fires burn
on mountains made from remnants of
their birth place, yet their hearts don't
skip a beat, instead they dance
and sing and laugh, until they can't

journeys through grassland
yield discoveries of friends, foes, and
perhaps the most important, the key
to unlock the secrets of the skies

a map lies above them,
burning chunks of rock
eons beyond our elementary understanding,
and as they climb the tallest of their ancestors
to dip hands deep in the universe
they are enlightened and lost all at once

i forgot you
on the eve of my 24th celebration
of life on this earth
and it was as if i finally
buried the dead bird
that stopped fluttering in my chest
a year and a half ago

you fought your dirt
games with blinding manipulation
and all of the hand grenades,
switch blades, battle brigades
you could muster

i stood and watched
an old world crumble
but laughed aloud at your naivety
i had rebuilt this kingdom
from ground up
and the only master that mattered
was me

music notes work hard
tiny hammers on my heart
pounding away at the cement case
until i feel something

i'd like to believe i've built a temple here,
but everyone knows it's just a fort of sheets
and i'm still a little girl underneath

i'd like to be cradled in the arms
of my mother, not landlocked
with my legs around yet another lover

because lovers have got nothing
to do with love, just ******* and touching
and giving up more than you've got

i feel like i've been scraped dry
bottom of the barrel and yet i'm on some
kind of natural high

an out of body experience i'll take flight
and watch as i float away
in the middle of night

a twilight escape of the fourth kind

we walk a thick line
with margins as wide as we'd like them

when you don't believe in anything
it's easy to paint a picture of wild abandon

i tell myself that i'm free
but so does the caged bird
to bare the weight
of knowing he'll never touch the sun

sitting on top of a giant steel slide
reminiscent of burning kindergarten flesh
as summer rays heated sources of joy
much too warm for screeches of fun

a man in a mask stands on the top step
as i prepare for lift off and wait patiently
trigger cocked, barrel loaded,
he places the shaft against my head

flash, bang, done in an instant
and my eyes bulge big, as comic book x's
take the former place of irises

a smile plasters wide on my jaw
and i wail, a shriek of exuberance
escaping from within my core
as i shoot down, like a slab of meat on a greased pan

i land with the grace of a contortionist
body parts twisted, but otherwise unscathed
as i suddenly defy gravity,  
boldly stand up, and escape my grave

i find myself backwards sliding
reeling through film blurred by dust
from the bunnies that hide under my skull
in the corners that i've tucked you away in

mountains, valleys, rivers, oceans, cities, creatures of the unknown,
they all spin by, a blurred bundle
of the adventures we shared

my heart used to hang low and heavy
but now it's full of nothing but air
stale and dank, but i can still smell
the coconut that you'd pour onto your scalp

i remember you as you were
the thought of seeing you as you are
is sickening

i'd rather keep a sarcophagus of you
than look into the eyes of your zombie being
and realize that i never actually knew
who you were

i sit and wonder where life goes when i'm not looking it in the eye
and then i smell it wafting up, the stench from my feet after a day at work
chasing little people that need me more than they need their own mothers,
i taste it in the notes that land between light and languid singing out from
the wine glass that holds the only thing that can put me to bed these days,
i feel it on this old torn up couch that's been passed around in musical houses
since 1973, tattered and worn, but it's the only thing that feels like home,
and i hear it in the door slams that come from the tiny hands of the neighbor's
children as they screech in and out, like miniature race cars whizzing round the bend

this life surrounds me, eats me whole, ***** me out, and repeats the process
until there's not a breath left to consume, a moment left to experience,
a burst of light left to pry open my eyelids when all i want to do is lay in bed
this life is mine, but it's everyone else's too, and as much as i want to hold tight
to the fleeting moments that end too soon, i've got to let go in order to keep up with it

knowing that you
will stand in my place
next to him
wearing the dress
that should have
given me wings
hurts

my ice face
is melting, much
to my dismay
and my stone heart
is crumbling
despite being forged
from granite

i've sworn myself
to a life of secrecy
stuffing my self
in a jar much too small
to contain me
i put a boulder on top
but the strength of that rock
is nothing compared
to the desire i've got
to let it all pour out of me

we are nothing but specks of dirt
blowing in the wind, father and
farther apart.

and if somehow by the grace of
the current that carries this air
we are brought back together,
i'm not sure i'll recognize you.

stuck between heart break
and a deep sigh of relief,
i wish either felt easier.

i hear you through the stained glass
screaming at children, scaring the **** out of them
*******, you're ******* tough, aren't you?
telling a nine year old to jump in the garbage where she belongs

with your cigarette stained screams
and hair that would gladly twist it's tendrils
around any unsuspecting victim
quick enough to squeeze the life out of them
before they had the sense to run

and this little girl has strength enough to keep her chin up,
keep moving her little legs to grab her icee
from the corner market in this early summer heat

and you're still on your ******* porch
yelling about little ******* pinching your baby

if you want to be the guard dog of this neighborhood
let's get you a chain and leash
because there's no question in my mind
that you are a *****

what better
secret is there
than that of lust? lovers using
their lips to share sacred stories
without speaking a single word.

i'd like to rip out a chunk of each of you
tantalizingly slow, i'll dig my dirt crusted finger tips into your flesh
never breaking eye contact as one after the other
you squirm and beg for mercy

i'll take needles, thick and crusted with rust,
and piece together a patchwork of my broken hearts
watch as all of the things i miss most become one

i'll stare at my conglomerate of lovers and will
find myself swooning the way i often do over all of you,
only this time i won't fear the cavernous plunge to come

how could the most beautiful pieces of all the
men i've ever loved scorn me?
i'll just have to put up with the stench of decomposition

i'd like to sit at work all day
and drown in words

big ones that snake slowly down my esophagus
and little ones that i throw back twelve
at a time from a double shot glass

i'd like to inject them
into my blood stream

the first ***** of the needle will sting
but after that it's smooth sailing
and i'll be high on odes, haikus, and prose all day

i'd like to unhinge
the top of my skull

take measuring cups and mix 1/2 cup
repetition, 3 cups flow, 3/4 cup line breaks
in with my brains until it's a thick, smooth mixture

i'd like to gorge until
my body refuses one more bite

so full of cummings, neruda, frost, denero,
mcgovern, hughes, whitman, salzberg,
keats, eliot, wordsworth that i might explode

someone please let
me in
on when life loosens its
tightening, frightening grasp
on my reality

this is my white flag
this is my deafening thud

as skull meets asphalt in deadly heat
blood pours out and boils beside my face
scents of pavement, iron, and salt swarm my nostrils

and if i'm not pathetic, then i'm prophetic
ahead of my time,
or better yet, eons behind

don't wanna slow down, don't wanna catch up

rather be ****** up,
yeah,
i'd rather be ****** up

i long for words that would sail us
to middle earth;
a step up from hell for me,
a step down from the heavens for you

she and i discussed at length
the way that yearning pierces
painfully, just as the time before,
never any less, maybe a little more
over hand rolled cigarettes,
wine, and salsa dancing

we looked at a history of our city,
hard working men who breathed
through fire and molten metal,
and spoke for hours about how
art is the saving grace in this mess

i wished that i could find a way
to convince you to see the world
through my eyes,
but i know yours are just as bright
and maybe even more beautiful,
if not more unique

if only my mind could find
the answers
a piece of my world transfered
to yours

i'd like to show you all i have to offer
but realization of sure fire rejection
trumps desire for detection

now don't think that i sit
and wish for you in droves
a tiny shadow woman
who hasn't got any hope
because that isn't it, far from the truth
i'm just hopeless in wanting for things
that could've, should've, would've been

the day i let go of everything
i began to rise slowly,
a million red balloons
tied with thick satin ribbons
to the back of my favorite orange flannel

and the tinge of sadness i felt
as i floated over a city
where the glasses can't decide
if they're half full or empty
began to drop from the tip of my nose
down into my toes
and finally into the pipes of crack heads
and mouths of puerto rican mothers
yelling at their children
to come home for pastalillos

i watched as nothing changed

the falls still fell
hipsters still biked (pretentiously)
bums still begged for change (in more ways than one)
hood rats still skipped school
20 somethings still boozed

and i realized that as much as this city felt like my salvation,
it wasn't

gulls came along
and popped each balloon,
as i dropped closer and closer to the earth
i panicked

i clung to the remaining balloon
and begged the birds to carry me elsewhere
but i already knew that the only way out of this place
was the way that i came in,
alone

i find myself at work
wishing i was still under covers
reading poems about other girls
written by ex lovers

my sister she tells me
i've lost my spark
i tell her i wish i could find
my way out of the dark

something invade me
turn me around
flip this life over and
throw me on the ground

make me climb up
so i can see from above
forget these dull heart aches
and leave them in past loves

because sitting in your
own ****
******* man,
that's the pits

desperate men with beard ridden faces
and unique t-shirts with caps on their heads
watch girls move with precisely practiced motion
thrown off by a kilter from the drinks that they mourn

stares that long with a linger that forces
a sharp startling shiver up pale weak spines
keep girls on fences surrounded by sharks
one wrong move and all you'll see is blood

this game that we play with each other is daunting
but fun if you wear your poker face right
and i start to believe that i'm floating above it
when i'm the one who's been dealing hands all along

boredom grasps my windpipe
until my breaths are low and my vision is blurred

you blame it on the wings that i was born with
on the heels of my feet
constantly flitting, ready to take me off to my next destination

how do i explain to them that i must sit still
in a faux leather chair
and write e-mails, plan meetings, coordinate volunteers?

my heart it cries for want of something bigger,
or perhaps something so small that i will be lost there alone
with nothing but the wings on my feet to keep me company

a tiny isle just for us, where we can flit above the tree tops
down into deep river canyons
floating inches above our mirrored reflections

but then i'll catch my eyes and see the sorrow that still lingers
and the sad excuse i have for a mouth will droop
low and heavy, like i'm carrying pebbles behind my lips

so the conundrum begins all over again
must i never stay in one place?
must i always want for something more?

my wings are mum and my lips motionless

the spring that started in March
ended in April
and people stood shocked in their door jams
necks craning up to the heavens
watching the flakes we had missed all winter
float slowly into gravity's grasp

laments were lofty in the frigid air
and somber masks packed away with moth ***** reemerged

this was the mark of a Mother Nature takeover
but who the hell were we
to tell her
how to do her job?

do you ever wish that you could turn your skin inside out? just pull down a zipper that starts on your skull and ends on your heel. then once you've got things open and airy, flip it about. now you're shiny and new and the grime that just won't scrub off in the shower will be hidden from prying eyes.
i find myself naked after showering, sitting in a computer chair, wishing i could float in thin air. i don't want any kind of microfiber touching my body. i don't want clothes, i don't want floors, i don't want cars, i don't want a **** thing. i want to exist in nothing and i want to be happy that way. i want to be free of things that trap and hide what i am; human.
i'd like to live a life free of vices. dependent on nothing and no one. ***, drugs, alcohol, food, love, throw it all out the window. watch it float into oblivion and tell it to ******* for eternity. i'd like to open up the door to my chest and see what's in my heart and live for that. now that would be living.

constantly craving human interaction
with an appetite that's insatiable and a streak that is wild
i wander and stumble, blinded by mediocrity
alone in a room with humans for miles

someone shake me, rattle my bird cage
because i fear that it's empty, just like my heart
i know this is my doing and i know that i'm lonely,
but for some reason i keep ending back at the start

love is my burden, my curse, my devil
the voice that whispers dark ***** spells
into my ear that's been bitten by many
who's compliments have started to sound like drones

and i ensnare them with enchantment, and wonder, and excitement
and they see me in a way that just isn't real
because i'm a creature of persuasion born
to float like a gas, sure, you can see me
but you can't hold me or feel
what's below the surface, so lovely,
a demon that burns from the inside out

a siren, i sing a song of beauty and bounty
as they steer for the rocks, i wear a smile
and i almost sink with them, but i'm still laughing
because i know they're the only ones
that are going to drown

sobriety is fleeting, a bird that flies in and out of my life
sometimes it lingers, but most of the time it only stops to say hello
much like the drinking, snorting, dropping, tripping, that calls to me
and for so long now i've been on this path
the one that everyone seems to see as righteousness
and yes, i'm doing right, i can see that with my own eyes,
but does happiness linger? no more than usual
and have i lost the urges that call to me, deep, dark, and loud in the night? no
they are louder than ever and i am compromised
because i am human
and as long as i have this heart beating within me
as long as the blood beneath the surface calls
to have some kind of cocktail poured directly into it
so that the brain within my skull can escape, or travel, or trip,
whatever the ******* want to call it,
i will always want for something
i will always itch
i will always ask for just one more
i will always desire escape
and i will always grant my wish to disappear
even if the moments are only fleeting, like a bird come to say hello

i guess satisfaction with survival
is kind of a strange concept
but admittedly i've been warming up to it
ever since my feet walked over pine trees
to climb absaroka mountain ranges

and now i watch bike wheels
spin over pavement while head phones
leak limp noodle notes into my brain
and i may not be able to eat a meal
more than once a day
and maybe i wonder how i'm going to
find my way home
but i'm still standing, i'm not dying
and good god is it nice to be alone

it's insane
that the human body
knows the difference
between a deep breath
and a bite of grilled cheese.
air down this tube,
grub down the other.

i sometimes sit
and think
god can't possibly be real.
how in the world
could he come up
with this ****?

with all of the complexities that
make up humans and the rest
of the animal kingdom,
i have to believe that our molecules
just smashed into each other
going 10,000 miles per hour,
and so we began.

tiny organisms at first
that grew to be beasts,
born to be brutes.
with feet that carried
them wide and far,
wreaking havoc
on this green of earth.