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40
40
Your 40th birthday.
A deadly treasure.
To a measure.

No map brought you here.
And no map can take you back.
601
601
I remember this place.
The small noises you'd make.
In the corner where the bed frame,
Lays and still shakes for me in my head.
Quakes.
Falls silently dead.
Again.

601.
Paper thin walls.

I remember this place.
The shapes your face made.
The way your waist played.

3 intimate words.
Each one, a shaking, slamming door.
"**** me harder"
My body does it's chores.

Once more.
I've torn my self away from the floor.
Crawled into the bed and wore,
Your body around mine, your arms, your legs, an infinitely warming form to explore, to spread apart and reform.
Each move of mine,
Unsure.
My Limbs and yours
Consort.
We are the wind and the beating roar.
We are the storm. We are the storm.

Your lips felt like needles on my neck.
Your body was sore, your body was tense,
body, sore, tense, aching was your spine.
And good god, you know I'll message every part yours, with every part of mine.
There is a picture of me.
Next to the word "unraveled" in the dictionary.
Dad likes to remind me.
Mom likes to confer.
I set goals to high.
I don't fit my own standards
Your eyes tether me.
Wide green sense of familiarity.
Your alpine white dress drags against your feet.
Looks for a place for thread and floor to meet.
There was a man named Andy.
He was this tall-
Had a beard like a Christmas tree-
He always wore black.

He could see the future-
He used the chirping of  birds as a metronome-
He smelled like peppermint-
He could smell the color yellow.

He was an atheist-
He waited outside catholic schools-
to tell children-
"God is like Santa, he ain't ******' real"

Andy was a liar-
A thief with no teeth-
A ******, a crook-
A homeless **** cook.

Andy.
The first time i had ***, I had done it only out of curiosity.
After it was done, I felt nothing but the need to wash her body off of mine.
I watched her mess roll off of me, the way black sock lint would in water.
She didn't clog the drain.
She dint stick to me like the lint did.
You-
Act like an oil-
But you were made in lead based paint.

You-
Are just the lead, stuck to my wrist-
Smeared on the page.
"Be calm"-
I was laying flat in a bed.
My palms-
Shaking and my face is red.

Listening to looped white noise.
I had ping pong ***** taped to my eyes.
Red dot lasers pointed in the center of each.
The method we used to help me lucid dream.
I've clicked my heels.
I've torn the house apart-
Looking for lamps to rub.
I've decided to set the alarm for 12:33-
So I can watch the clock hit 12:34.
So I can wish for you.
So sweet.
there are birds, that wish that they were her.
I swear I could build a library.
Using the settled dust of our memories as a foundation.
I could build an archive.
Using cheat sheets I made, to guide me through asking you to marry me.
I could build a gallery of mirrors surrounding you.
And just pretend it was the same beautiful portrait from different vantage points.
I could do a lot if I wasn't sick.
If I wasn't so stuck on wishing I could go back.
I swear I could build a house-
And live alone there until I die.

But who would drink the coffee?-
And who would wake me up?
Who would listen to my every word-
And never interrupt.
It doesn't even matter-
How easy it could shatter.
But we still build them so she'll come.
And hope she never leaves.
But they always do.
Come sit, share with me my access company. I'm warmer than that heater, and I can kiss you on your cheek.

Come stand, here with me. Watch the worn floor for splinters. We can dance in the lights that burned out last week.

Come, unplug things here, with me. I don't want to hear the fridge run, because it's steps are louder than yours.

Come, open the window for me. I don't want to look outside because everything looks so ****** after I've seen what's under the sheets.

Come stand, or sit, or dance, or lay.
I don't care what you do, just keep moving, just keep me awake.
What i had-
Recently, come lost to me.

Like winter looses warmth-
And the sidewalk looses leaves.

I see them in the trees-
I hope that they miss me.

I know that it sounds desperate-
Its desperate, I agree.
My mom once, when I was eight-
told me about what happens when we die.

She said we forget about our friends and family.
We "become part of the ground and sky".

we forget about our mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters.
Their faces mean nothing.

We don't need anyone.
We don't need each other on the other side.

I guess its okay.
At least you wont be sad.
when you see me in hell,
you wont remember who i am.
Once, a stranger said-
"You have the most beautiful eyes"-
I said "thank you", but did not compliment back.

She said-
"They remind me of the ocean"-
I said again, "thank you"-

She said-
"I cant swim, so your eyes remind me of death"-
I said again, "thank you"

Still unsure-
Why my eyes reminded her of the sea.
My eyes aren't blue.
My eyes are green.
Old family pictures,
happier then than now.
Crumpled old receipts from Christmas time,
the spirit of giving, money spent proud.

Too scared to visit, or sit and talk.
to step on cracks in the sidewalk.
scared of dad getting sick.
scared when mother has trouble breathing in the attic.
Run.
Shower.
Take my pills.
Look for a better job.

Eat.
Try and sleep.
Wake up early.
Make it to the bus stop.

Out of tokens.
No bus pass.
It's early and breezy.
I guess I could walk.

Saw a penny.
Face up on the sidewalk.
It's good luck.
To keep it in your sock.
Folded pieces of paper.
Old past due assignments.
Made paper footballs with-
Corners pointed like diamonds.

Spent all that time.
Scooping out room for-
You in my heart.
Like guts of a pumpkin.

Stay close to you I tried.
But the pumpkin got rotten.
Corners got bent.
And my company unwanted.

A couple of cans of root beer.
Sitting along my windowsill.
Sitting still, lukewarm and flat.
Dragging in gnats.

I remade my bed.
Cleared off the pillows-
I pretended were you-
And made room for two.

I took down the pictures.
I took down the lights.
Took down some notes on-
How to resist my-

Need to be loved and-
My want to be fine.
My urge to move forward and-
Hunger to fight.

I get lost in the right-
Ideas and go wrong.
I hope that you don't think-
That I belong here.
The hazel in her eyes/matched the laces in her dress/I must confess/ that as I undid all the knots/ A thousand thoughts/ rushed through my head/ but i forgot/ how to speak/ so I let my hands speak to your hips/ and my neck adore your lips/ the only kiss/ I could miss/ on a day/ when you'd be away/ I'd beg to stay/ in your arms/ no harm/ would come to pay/ any attention/ to the way/ I hold my most prized possession/ rose red lips/ slender finger tips/ caress me/ the candles lit/ fire in the balcony/ smoke into the sky/ clouding light/ bringing night/ by your side/ I stay inside/ try to hide/ from snow and ice/ getting lost/ lost inside/ again, your hazel eyes.
Was so fragile-
She could be cut by callused palms.
Could be bruised-
With the stroke of her makeup brush.
Lays so sound-
She could wake up to the car door slamming in the garage.

She is so thin-
Light shines not just through her eyes-
But through her chest, hips, lips, and-
No warmth is transferred through her kiss.

She breaks like hardened mud.
You could sink into her like quicksand.
Her body, is built like a storm.

You can watch the blood in her veins-
Meet your fingers at the surface-
You can still see what you have drawn in the morning-
If you can even crawl out of bed to crack the blinds.

She likes thunderstorms.
She likes the smell of dirt.
Her eyes were gray-
And her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.

She can dance in the sun-
clumsily-
And still be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

She could sing-
Off key-
But her emotion is what makes those notes gold.

She lays like stone.
She moves like running glass fast forwarded.
Her voice is thunder-
And her eyes are the winter.

She lays hands on you-
Only to heal.
She can mend you-
as easy as bending a wire coat hanger.

Her skeleton is like flint-
How it sparks against mine.
Her body is so fragile-
A word could hurt her.
and a stick or stone-
would certainly **** her.
It's hard to think-
this time last week-
I was searching for weeds-
in the cracks of the street-
in front of the church-
Where I once worked-
In the sun, hardwork-
Pulled weeds all day till my hands hurt-

I was working at the shelter when he found me-
said son you need to leave-
move out, get out of this town-
because you ain't happy, and you sure as hell ain't proud.

Back to flint-
crime hole of Michigan-
where I once lived-
when I was a kid-
where the buildings look like ****-
and the streets smell like ****-

It's been six years since I left for Maine-
I've searched flint up and down for a familiar face-
the only thing familiar was the old cafe-
we spent summers here, breakfast everyday.

Lady at the counter asked "sweetie what's your name"-
She was cleaning the tables while I had my tea-
She said they don't pay her enough for this ****.
I said "you still make more than me"

She recognized my face-
I asked her if She remembered any of my friends-
We used to come here everyday-
After school. For burgers and shakes-

I explained, I never kept in touch-
I'm not the type to, And even if I did-
they wouldn't hear from me that much-

I told her what had happened. How I lost my house in flames. I have no where to stay, not my parents, and I don't have any friends.

She said she remembered you. She remembered how we were always
together.

Asked if you still lived in town-
She said yeah-
she sees you sometimes, hanging around.

She set a glass down-
Poured some tea-
Shared a cup with me-
She said I don't want to be involved with you-
Asked her what she means.

Welcome home. She said.
She winked. Again.
Napkin and a pen.
Gave me an address.

Out past the green light,
Past The fairgrounds.
I drive out and around.
And found my self nearly out of gas.
Every light stayed green as I would pass.
There was never any traffic in this town. Or at least none that would last.
Drive past old miss myrtles.
Her house was covered in vines.
She used to leave her window open,
Set there fresh baked pies.
I wonder of she's alive.
I found your house.
Boarded up.
Two men came out.
Undone zippers and button ups.
One laughed and smirked, pretty girl.
Worth every dime.
The veins in my neck popped and i clenched my fists at my side.
You walked out side.

You stood there, so beaten.
It's clear that you've eaten,
Some fists in your life.
You walked back in side.
It's too late to hide,
The black bruises, your eyes.
Don't try and disguise it's too late for make up and lies.
Drugs and money on the table.
Your life's a pond that stands still.
One drop or touch,
And you shake and waver, the flavor is enough.
Holes in the roof.
Teeth on the ground.
Trash and needles,
Radio blaring loud.
Outside traffic.
Busted lips, white noise.
In a crib, a witnessing
little boy.
Thought of you more and more.
Saw a sign, you were what I came home for.
Not your arm full of scars,
Or face full of sores.
All my friends have left and gone.
Numbers lost.
Seems like this whole town is dead.
Every street lights stuck on red.
I have a Job, delivering pizzas.
I've seen the good.
The bad.
The ugly.
The really ugly.
The strange.
The crazy.
The fat and lazy.
But one thing I havnt seen.
Is someone as judgmental as me.
I've been making making excuses to come see you.
To drive out that far.
                                    But.
                                    When will you be the excuse I use-
                                    To come do something else-
I have a special talent.
I have the ability to taste peoples personalities.
It sounds weird, I know.
But this is not a fictitious writing.

It happens only on the very first interaction with someone.
Only in person obviously-
Not through text or the phone.

I feel it-
Rather, I taste it in the first words they speak.
The first time our eyes meet.
And in one instance, the first hug.

I guess I don't "taste it"
Its more instinctual-
It almost feels like a memory.
Not like I just imagine it.
Its more like-
When you think someone said your name when they didn't.

Sometimes people taste like the smell of rain.
Some, like salt water.
some, like cloth or toothpaste.
On an occasion-
Sweet Orange Soda.

I guess I don't know if its actually personalities I am "tasting"
It just so happens that the Fellows that taste like burning rubber, or rotten cheese end up being the ones that just cant get along with me.

Its hard not to judge-
When my body does it at the instant.

Maybe its all about mannerisms, and subconscious memories.

Its odd.
Ill stick to my friends that taste like Mint and Orange sodas-
Fruit and cake dough-
Than those-
who taste like moldy bread.
Seeing you first thing in the morning is like looking through a kaleidoscope.
I cant really tell what I'm looking at because my vision is so blurry, but-my god is it beautiful.
I don't get to wake up to you as often as I'd like.
But when I do, I look to my left, or to my right-
depending on how much shifting I've done in the middle of the night-
and I say..
"Oh goodness, this pillow looks like her."
But then I realize that it is you.
I had just forgotten where I am because waking up to you is so abnormal.
Then-
What comes next is the wave of nerves,
and I mean WAVE OF NERVES-
that comes over me when you purse your lips-
trying not to smile back at me.
I can't help-
but to throw at you,
an endless string of generic compliments-
like-
"You are, so beautiful"
Or-
"You look so good without makeup"
But they aren't generic to me-
Because they are true.
But then I say something really ******* stupid.
Like-
"Your nails....... feel like.. nails"
Ironically-
Nails, is a word with a couple different meanings.
Like-
Fingernails.
Hammer and nails.
And like how I just nailed you.
But hey-
I put just as much time nailing you, as a man would, hammering nails into the beams of a house that he is building for his own family.
Not that you took a really long time-
Or I want to put a family inside you-
But-
You are a masterpiece.

What I'm trying to say,
Is that aside from your brilliant mental composure-
Your thousands of beautiful blurry reflective faces-
And your superb taste in men-
Example being me...
You are wonderful,
And I look forward to building more houses with you in the future.
We could have a castle with a mote.
We can have a pet dragon.
As long as I have light-
And a thousand busted mirrors in a tube-
I will be yours.
Even if the kaleidoscope doesn't see that far.
I will be yours.
The brimstones golden hunger, and leaking thoughts, the creeping delver lingers, haunts. Swelling faith, like flame to moths, truth re echoes like the sting of wasps. Cloaked man, from another land, faultlessly faithful in dying truth. Unhappy sinner, begs for refuge. Stirring again his thin sole shoes.
I want to feel you.
Scraping against me.
I want to taste the,
Mango in your kiss.

Drag from your chest to your neck.
to claw from your ribs down to your hip.
I want to feel you on me.
And taste the citrus on your lips.

Starving for the touch of,
Hoping for your grip.
Trying not to think too much.
About your blackberry bliss.

Distracted by your hammer hits.
The water against the ship.
The boat begins to tip.
Spilling fruit into the wavy rift.
She went into Winter-
But sprung into Spring-
Her Summer was something-
So she fell into fall.
You wandered the room.
Entered through the doorway.
Fluently floating, and timidly tracing.
Your temporal frame, your transient shape.
Your obsession with perfection and your warm cordial face.

I noticed bite marks on your arms and legs,
they were red and freshly laid.
You shouldn't go where you aren't safe.
The world can be a horrid place.

When I looked into your eyes,
They were dead and  they were cloudy.
I haven't seen or heard a thing scream dread so loudly.
I can see it in your soul, I can see in your consonance.
And if this what your future is, I don't want a part of it.
Somewhere at the watercourse-
Silvery brume.
Shining through, like pulsing light-
Golden iris are in bloom.

Tongues of brazen flame-
Snap their reflection against the lukewarm mirror-
This is where order looms.

Felicity-
Serenity-
Vestigial depression.
Second guesses-
Underwhelming quests in wrong directions.

Oh elixir. Oh watercourse-
Oh inanimate eloquence.
How you tempt me with your evocative consonance.

You remind me of a woman-
Her husband and her son-
To me you are a drifter-
You remind me of the sun-
You remind me of a king-
of a man with sore eyes-
Mourning late son.
In the mornings sun rise.

Watercourse watercourse-
Lazy eyed shadow.
Left handed perfectionist-
Seething pale shallow.

Watercourse watercourse-
Your body feeds the worms.
Your souls seams have torn.
Watercourse watercourse.
Look at those mountain.
Well, what about them?
Well, aren't they inviting?
Yeah, you could say.
You could also say that they are spaceships.
But they aren't.
And the mountains aren't inviting.
The world is just an old fat man.
Rolling in holy black sheets.
Old replayed talk radio-
And a nice warm cup of tea.
I drank my soda too fast.
I looked at her too long.
I said I'd see the world.
But without Her, I'm sure I'd see it wrong.
We used our hands as cups and plates.
We never wanted to sleep.
We stayed up until morning.
Busy bodied, watching T.V.
She painted her nails in the same color-
As the sky after a storm, where-
Orange and red, with swirls-
Twisted like her hair.
The world saw me love her.
It even led me by the hand.
And just because you miss me-
Doesn't mean I miss you back.
******
A deer crossing sign-
Barren trees-
Long dead grass in the ditch.

Tapping of my fingers on the wheel-
Off tempo finger tips.

Imagining a home cooked meal-
My stomach turns and twists.

Lights in the distance-
Rest area, next exit.

Red road-
A deer is spread like my hands across the steering wheel.

Blue skies-
black iced roads-
White hills-
Midwestern winter robes.
I wrote you-
A postcard.

Sat it by the toaster-
Where I saw your reflection.

I wrote you-
A post card.

I wrote you-
In warm regards.
I gently rest on you my hands,
to reshape you, like the ocean does the sand.

I gather your wrists in my palms.
Lying skin to skin, pushing shudders through our calm.

My blistered smile, revised, renewed.
Color returns to me. I regain my hue.

For the longest, I tried to refuse.
I claimed the smile on my face, was not at all because of you.

You must have done something right.
or filled some sort of gap.
because every noise that's not your voice,
just sounds like breaking glass.
I was out late with friends when I first saw her.
It hit midnight, she was just waking up.
She was just getting out of bed.
It was four in the morning.
She was putting make up on.
She was getting dressed after morning ***.
Five in the morning she clocked into work.
She cracked the horizon.
I saw her first.
The first in the neighborhood.
I saw the weekend first.
Life is like a still pond.
It can be ruined and shaken-
by just one drop.
She started the morning-
Arm extended wide towards the sky.
******* and well rested, stretching-
Slowly got used to the blurring light.
Leaves rustled in the tree outside-
Dark clouds show and wind blows light.
Wind picks up and rolls on by-
Dark clouds blow past this time.
He slid his picture next to hers.
To dust the spaces beneath it.
Let the corners of the frames touch.
Left them together, to see if she would smile.

Pointless spring cleaning.
Her picture was collecting dust.
He held her name so tight behind his teeth-
He forgot he needed to breathe.
Don't spend too much time in the sun-
You can get skin cancer and die.

Don't spend too much time in the snow-
You can get frostbite and die.

Don't walk home alone at night-
You could be murdered and die.

Don't you dare follow your dreams-
You could loose a lot of time and money....
I get edgy sometimes-
When I see knots-
I freeze up.

I get upset when I try to untangles them-
Like earphones and other audio cords-
Auxiliaries, usbs and inputs.

I get frustrated-
Easily with entanglement-
I hate knots but.

Our bodies could be a knot, that I wouldn't want to untangle.

— The End —