record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you,

screaming,
  you aim for my face,

I strike for the gut,
where the misery
has nestled in disguise,
symptoms
come in binges,
don't think about
it stretching,
    lasting,
    coming back again,
anger,
pain,
hatred,
     you are blood,
      and I still can't pretend,

  record breaking amnesia,
  don't remember how to love you,

you provide strings
with your support,
meanings
checked at the door,
meaning,
you attach and consume
before we go forth,

  and, I
  just asked for help,
    not a third hand to feed me,
    not a list of nasty names,
    not a knife in the back,
    not another family member trying to bleed me,

honesty, clarity, hope:

record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you

Dare you become my thrill
Imagination of your free will
Ready to obey my dark mind
Tied and submitting in kind
Yet responding to a hard hand

Making you feel and understand
Imposing your body for my pleasure
Naked and isolated at my leisure
Demanding more than you can give

Your soft morning sighs reach me
I crack open wishful lids to view
The perfect curve of your bearded cheek
Warm rays blind
The sun is bright too I suppose
Compared to you though...
What sun?
You light me up
Soul spark ignited
Seeking out the sore spots, rubbing deep
No cobwebbed corner goes untouched
Just when I start to drift back off in your arms
You kiss softly at the base of my neck
I arch back into your waiting heat
Arousal placed, rhythm reached
We are lost in each other's push and pull
Hard, fast, hair wrapped around rough hands
I come swiftly, wet clenches tight around you
Milking
You reach me at your peek, explode
Our moans of satisfaction dotting the air between us
Laying entwined, thinking softly as sleep claims our sated minds
*I'll be here when you wake up.

He's giving her a piggyback ride across Harvey Avenue.
She's barefoot, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist.
In her hands a killer pair of heels click against each other.

She whispers something to him and laughs.
I want to know what it is--but to know would
unravel both space and time--it would make this
Monday night, in this anodyne, red-brick district
partly mine. Walking past, I let them go with a nod
and a "beautiful night."

there's a dark girl I know
so beautiful
can't help but want a handful,
can't seem to help but get a mouthful
of words
all sputtered up and un-thought,
mostly stuff I thought I forgot.

I tell her my issues, my problems, my dreams,
she doesn't give me pain
no she doesn't give me grief
but she's twisted my beliefs.
reminds me I'm sensitive by letting me relax
without emotional tax, gives me love without pointing out the facts.

she found me two feet on the ground
and shook me, took me to the skies.
I was proud to be around such a daring creature,
I am proud to have been bound in such a brilliant gaze.

love is in all places all faces all things
but there is no substitution to what her friendship brings.

Evangeline (is that what you want me to call you?),

While I hope you don't have to use it, attached is my edit of your suicide note. I just tweaked the grammar on a couple sentences and uncapitalized a random "E." Might consider being more specific. It's hard to tell who is to blame, if you're looking to blame someone. The verbs are very passive. Makes your end seem like a commercial break. Just a suggestion.

Love or a near synonym,
Josh

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.

I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?

She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.

It was Josh, right?

Yeah.

Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.

And she did.

Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.

Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.

Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.

You were in it.

Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.

You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.

I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.

My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.

I like coffee.

You wouldn't like me.

Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.

No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.

Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.

Yeah, I'll take it.

I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.

Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.

It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.