I wake up with a fever fueled mainly by your hands
Or lack thereof for that matter

I disrupt the monotony found at the bottom of my coffee cup
Or ***** glass for that matter

I can sit idly by on the bleachers
And let you make me cry
Stand in front of the fireplace
Or lay on the carpet
And let you blow a hole through my head
Because in my dreams we're kissing wrists
And you're running your hands through my curls
As I trace your face with blistered thumbs

You're silence -
It kills me
Cracks my rib cage clean apart
Brush burns the sides of my skull
And rips my skin to shreds
All the particles left screaming your name into the wall

And am I getting too old for this?

It snowed that October,
It was just like Christmas

Until you spent three years away,
The moon was always shouting in my ear.
Through the drapes, past the glass -
In my ear.
I recall our ribcages, reflecting light in May.
Perhaps we were all facing west.
We stood near the river once,
All baby teeth and gold dust,
All glistening flecks and fleeting.
Where have you gone, friend?
Campus coves kept us close
From September till now.
But you return to blonde hair
In fevers, like she is/was
The window to your dizzy spells.

And so you'll sit,
Suspended on wires.
Strung across our
Darling country.
Resting on boyish charm
And
School day soliloquies.
Celtic claddagh knots -
Upside down and
Everything.

I've realized if you're poison,
I will drink to the bottom of your barrel.
And if I told you summer was two sleeps away,
would you fall in love again?
Or did you swallow all the nice things? The yarn bindings and the leather I collected from beach sand graves?
If I say goodnight to you every morning will you gift me moonbeams like Christmas wrapped knuckles beneath balsam necks in the basement

Recall the theater lights that turned your hair
And ever slightly blonder shade of brown

My sonnet went to hell the same night I threw up mix tapes into cereal boxes

I'm terrified of you and you're as meek as they come

Scene:
Everyone in a hurry to get to hell
Where he can't say I Love You
Even when he's drunk and you're begging
Baby, please tell me what I dream of hearing
What I carve into my neck at night
After the Om Nashi Me's go to bed
Everyone running through this death march
And eyes hollow out without a doubt
Your yellow undertones from your mothers throne
Boy this is not slow dancing in a burning room
This is arson, setting the house on fire and rolling in the flames
Because your hands won't even reach out to pull me from the oven
I am tired of waiting for perfectly drunken nights to kiss you and drink from your cup
I am tired of running through this death march
Let's slow down and dance under blankets in the shed
We are twenty, we are not dead