a world
of nostalgic
facsimiles.
i met someone

who looked
like you.
She looked at me

with the same eyes
you used to,

the cruel mix between
devil-may-care
and miserable.

searching vain, searching
ridiculous,
I make a joke of myself--

remember
the time
I bought a
scruffy looking
black mouse

from a pet store
at whim

to replace the one that died
when I
was 6

but I can hardly replace you
with this pale
stranger

but i can hardly lay
your own few-ounce body
to rest

I wonder if other people see death like I do.
I do not mean in a faux-macabre way,
a sad tween way.
Picking through the 3 isles of candies at
Speedway, I sometimes catch
a whiff of
death and
I don’t mean to, but I know that
my eyes must fill with him &
I wonder if the cashier
sees
anything,
,

Have you caught the glimmer
of an adult-to-be coming to terms
with the conflicting emotions
around death,
the desire, the fear,
the terror after horror,
the longing that subsides only
with time

i heard
the storm
outside.

rivers of rain, like streams of sweat,
dribbled down the drywall of my room
through the holes in the insulation
and the faulty, redneck-rigged flue

it felt
a bit
like May.

can't blame myself for being
discomfitted by rain in december
but the snow that falls in march
bothers me much more.

i saw
my
reflection

in the tepid pools leaking on my floor
winking back uncomfortably
as mold grows in our walls

She cries at night as she tries to sleep                     c. 6.13.14 J.Ray
A victim of the life she tries to keep
She lives her life inside her own mind
She looks for the things she cannot find
Trapped inside, she just lost her way
She is someone new each and every day
Takes meds today, so tomorrow she’s fine
But the Doctor says that she’s Borderline
Silence the quiet whispers and deny all your pain
The voices in your head have all come back again
The doctors and the nurses say that you’re insane
We can make her better they always seem to claim
But we know better ‘cause they’re the one to blame
Sleeping so well now and the time sure flies
When your mind goes away a part of me dies
Nothing but finest pills the nurses will bring
Effects can **** you but you won’t feel a thing
She’s here today, so tomorrow she’s fine
But the Doctor says she’s just Borderline

My mind is aligned with the stars in the sky
You watch as I burn through the night hella high
Dangling in the spectrum of wrong and right
I chase the moons illuminate white light
Should I stay or should I go
In your arms will you forever hold
Me
Breathe
Release
Repeat
I fumble through forests from night 'till day
Wondering when I'll see your face again
When you think of us
Do you think of pain
When you think of love
Do you see my name
Is your memory tainted
Painted black and white in your mind
We've tried and we've tried
But it's getting harder to survive
We can let it all go
Watch it melt away like snow
And years from now we'll still feel the sting
Of what was always the greatest thing.

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.