i remember
when you said
you'd always be there
to hold my hand
to some what comfort me

but

you left me
without a word
you left with cut up pictures
which once had you in them
smiling

but now you're a memory
i still tear petals from sunflowers
to determine whether you still love me

but when im alone at night
i think about how we used to be
and instead of tearing the petals from those pretty flowers
i tear myself part, wondering
why you left me.

I used to hold you up so high
until you let me down
I used to think if I pulled back the skin on your ribs all I would see was a blinding light
Sadly
You are only human

And even the best of us forget

The long tearful wail of a siren,
distant in the static black night,
pierces the thick silence
of dim dirt roads
and misty pastures.
An old dog mistakes the sound
for the cry of his own.
He howls forlornly into the darkness,
only a numb stillness rings back,
an intolerable sound of its own.
He lays a heavy head down
to dream of warm fields of wheat
where he chases the white tail of a rabbit,
until it is finally clenched between his jaws.

Love me, love me
Forever and a day
She says
But how can I love you
When I can't love
Myself
?
She has no answer
Because I never ask
The question

I'm too afraid to
Admit that I may never
Be able to love anything
Or worse yet
That I never have
Loved

you broke every bone
inside of me
you crushed me
when you told me
you didn't want us anymore
you sent a million daggers through my heart
and pierced every major vein

but i still want you
i want you so bad.

Home is where your heart is, a friend told me some time ago
On a little piece of paper that I took with me then;
Most people think of home as something stable, as something they would know;
Each time I part, I'm thinking of this lttle note, and it is when

                               I really miss you
                                           that I imagine my heart to be in many places
one of those pieces being by your side.

this is a simple thing
thus these lines know no rhyme -
no time is used to jot them down
no time is needed here
to rhyme.

It is only of coming home.

You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.