I need a part replacement.
A cork to fill the aching cavity
my soul has been pouring out of.
I catch its pieces in mason jars
I keep lined along my windowsill.
As daylight hits the vessels
tiny sun-beam explosions,
like waves, wash over them.
It cast rainbows across
my skin, each a fragment,
a tiny memory,
of the magnificent glory
it was when I was still whole.
I want each one to run
like waterfalls cascading
down my throat
catching onto each other
and reforming on the decent.
I want to drink myself back together.

These days I long for
the times we drank for hours
getting dolled to the nines
in between shots and dance
moves. Weaving our way
in and around bodies
dark and in shadows,
prowling. We were the big
cats, the ones they keep
in cages for tourists to gawk at.
The ones they fling whole
carcasses towards, to be devoured.
Soul searching eyes and manes
longer than the Nile. Stopping
grown men in their paths with
a single glance. I dream of
the nights we could have talked
our way out of cop cars and into
furry handcuffs with a twist
of the tongue. We would twirl
boys around like tops, wrapped
in dorm room sheets. Winking
and taking them out in the morning
like black bags of trash, one after
the other. Blowing smoke out
our windows and giggling, our
own secret language. Setting fire
to our own bridges and dousing
the flames in tears and liqour.
We were the biggest game,
hunters being hunted, dying
to be laid out like skinned rugs
and ravaged like last meals.
In the end, like lazy zoo lions
we were left with nothing but
the shadows of the Queens
of the Jungle we used to be.
Licking our wounds
and cleaning our paws
in the sunlight as the world
goes on without us.

I can only write when my still
beating heart, dances across
the page leaving lines of love
in blood stains. When I am wrought
in two, curled, fetal, wrapped
in others clothes trying to remember
how it was they smelled after hot
sleepless nights. I can only lay
a verse after I have lost my last
chip, and gambled away the last
pieces of what little love i have left.
When I cause myself to cry,
chained by foolishness and insecurities.
I can only say the words when
the hourglass has no more sand,
and the buzzer echoes dimly,
the last seconds a distant time frame.
I wish my words fell like a concrete
avalanche to the floor, rumbling
and shaking the ground, like angry
Gods seething over unheeded warnings.
I wish the truth glowed neon, like the streets
of Sin City. Where you can't miss the signs
and you know, you're exactly where you're
supposed to be.

There are days I wish I could remember
what is was I said in a state of stupor
and haze. The times I tipped bottles
back and poured them into my soul
releasing demons and their lovers
into the air around me like smoke
rising. Stumbling in and out of sentences,
incoherant thoughts, and blurry vision.

There are nights I wish I could recall
what you felt like,  a bare treed forest,
wet with morning dew, and the sound
of echoing geese. We awoke
to the distant whines of lonely dogs,
and the knowledge that it would be hours
before we could meld into each other again.

The memories I have, a muffled question
to dance, an honest eyed I Love You marked
by bloodied hands, chewed puzzle pieces,
and freezing to death watching men chase
pig skin down damp turf. I lift my hands
and chase them like fireflies in the dark.
Hoping to catch them and keep them
in tiny boxes beneath my pillows.

But as butterflies do with nets, they slip
slowly through aching fingers,
like the waves tease the beach, washing
against it and then disappearing again
into murky depths. I would have let you
band me, keep me wrapped up in your
tattoos and scars. I would have fed
hungry mouthes and slipped into
secret moments stolen between sheets.

There are days I wish I could remember
what it was I said. And there are nights
I wish I could forget, what it was you told me.

We used to stay up
and watch the sun play peekaboo
with the skyline
and sit in the street
at 4 AM discussing everything
and nothing.
Breaking other peoples showers
in the night
and making love on their mother's
Dining room tables.

Now I resort to ep's and
YouTube videos, just
to remember the sound of your voice
or how your fingers move while you
strum your acoustic and massacre
your drums.

You have made my stomach tense with laughter
and my eyes rain
and you have made me love.

But this will be my last
Poem for you.
My last ode, my last confession.
There will be no more soft sweet syllables
or angry goodbye lines.
There will be no more heartfelt repetition
or cheesy, sing song rhymes.

We have lied
and we have cheated
making Misery moan with pleasure.
We have martyred it,
buried it,
and given the eulogy.

We used to climb to roof tops
and watch the lights dance
across our city.
We used to know each other.

I haven't had enough
time yet. The bruise
from canine teeth
and the ones you left
around
my wrist, are still
sore with promises
and insincere 'I love you's'.
Fresh like grape vines
and still burning with ire
and holes in cement walls.

I still want to kiss you
and tell you it will all be
what it will be in the end.
But throwing lovers
to the floor, like rag dolls
doesn't make black
and navy blue a better
combination.

I sit around and scrap
little waxy bumps off of
my face and neck
with homegrown nails
that look acrylic
and as they drag
across my skin
I fight and force
memories to play
hide and go seek
like cutting scenes out
of movie reels.

Don't breathe
you'll only whisper
lyrics of songs
that weren't written
for you and I.

Do you get enough
love? Order here,
and eat. Like the other
side of a telephone line
I know you are there
and I am very happy.

I live off of hope
and coffee.

It's standard
to steal off to the basement
and wash your face
with hand soap out of
a ketchup bottle
wondering whether
or not you put on
deodorant that morning
or if the short ginger
notices the way you
stare over your cup
when he's not looking.

She said, I know I've never
met you but i dreamt about
your tattoo and it inspired
me to lay ink into my chest.

You've been sentenced
to steal words on Sunday
and if you're choking
you can cool off with drink
special, from a cafe a-go-go
filled with people you'll never
know, who have changed
moments in your life, forever.