a semi's  taillights lead us home
we litter cigarette butts along the highway,
our interpretation of breadcrumbs.

i hope that one day
(when our skin begins to slide from our bodies)
we are able to remember these nights.

A darling girl of three
Violet ribbon cradles golden hair
They fuss over her porcelain skin
Blushing cheeks and baby blue eyes
“Eyes you just want to steal,”  say They.
She crayons pictures of castles
And heroic princes.
Her little dolls are played
Then locked in their little dollhouse

A fair girl of fifteen
Mornings she is taunted and condemned
By the mocking mirror.
She stares
And draws a smile on the vacancy.
Head, shoulders, knees and toes-
Strings attached to all.
Puppetted by the fetters of Expectation,
She smiles, and acts,
And dresses in little outfits
To please Them.

A charming girl of seventeen
Immured little fingers cradle the wiled world.
A Crayoned face fronts the masquerade.
Mangled in tangled strings,
She offers her heart and scissors to a little blonde boy
And cries, Kiss it better.
He smiles and smooths her brow
As his honeyed whispers tear her open
And he ties a heartstring.
He stitches her up with the thread of Promises
Leaving ribbon-scars delicate as lace.
Blueblack bruises blossom across
And stain her porcelain skin.
She shatters
While screaming his innocence.

Thieved eyelight
Makes for a jaded girl of eighteen.

A darling girl of three
Plays with toys
As They toy with her.
Just another broken doll to be.

She sits across from you at the group-work table in all her flesh
a coat of giant cold chicken skin
she can't figure how to take off.

A cow chewing cud
would be less offensive than the way she grinds
that gum with mouth, a hole slapping
against itself in fleshy clicks.

She is heavy, whipping cream-
colored thighs each time she slaps a hand down in laughter.

The chest is pouring out in all of it's hypnotic paleness;
the dark colored shirt is giving its all, but failing against the strain.

Your adrenaline courses in nausea
as she moves her legs apart,
veins radiation-blue,
mashed potato inner thighs,
and suddenly
you've peaked behind the curtain
the poison fish you see
makes you *****.

They said your footprints
were still on the windowsill
when the authorities showed up

I wonder how long my hand prints will remain

as I lean out and see the last thing you ever saw
speed towards you
like that camera trick they use where the background speeds forward
but the person stands still

I feel you in my nose here
all that remains of you is
a scent of yellowed dime-store novel pages
and I can't help but agree
when scientists say that
our sense of smell is the one most closely tied
to our memories.

They always said you had an old soul

but I know better

You lived with the clarity of a newborn's eyes.

The other night I was walking down the street
In a sweatshirt and blue jeans
And to the left of the street I heard
“Hey baby, get in the car with me”
And I knew this couldn’t be a nice gesture
And I should be afraid
I should rely on the pepper spray in my purse
Over the compassion in a man’s heart
Because after all I’m just an itty pretty bitty
In this big ol’ city
And I need help
I need a white knight to protect me from dragons
That used to be men but forgot the meaning of the word no
And twisted it so
It meant try harder
Look at how short her skirt is
And I thought since when did the length
Of my skirt become the measure
Of a man’s self-control
When did the visibility of my thighs
Warrant unwanted invites
I don’t remember sending out mini-skirts
To request people come to my birthday party
The length of my dress does not mean yes
And the cut of my shirt is not a man’s control test
And when I say no that isn’t just a request
Why do I have to be afraid to be a woman?
Why can’t men be taught not to ****
So I won’t have to be taught ways to avoid it
Don’t walk alone
Don’t talk to strangers
Don’t walk at night
Don’t leave home without pepper spray
Don’t walk in that neighborhood
Why can’t being a woman mean don’t
Be afraid you never have to wish
You were born with padlocks instead of knees.

They told me it was metal,
but I didn't believe a word.
But now I find it's iron
of the strongest, finest kind.
Ah! Here is my little bellows,
I think I'll melt it down.

"So what are your eyes seeing?"
Only deaths of beautiful human beings,
while the hideous pass on by fleeing.
"So, in what do you believe?"
That to the back,
comes the knife from the sleeve.
and with your wife, he will sleep.
"If any, who do you pray to?"
Devil, god, wind--anything that is fatal,
or the unlikely, like a princess in the fable.
"In lieu of these things, there are not many options,
what do you see yourself being?"
A very lonely man, writer and tragedian.