"where are you off to now?"
you pace.
you always pace when you are mad.

"just out."  i sigh as
i watch you run the carpet to rags.
"could you stop that?"

"out? just out?
all painted up like that?
why the *****'s paint if your
just out." with the carpet gone,
you hit concrete,
dust flies
back and forth back and forth
every sentence a lap
of our small room.

i look at my face for a long time
and add another layer to my
****** mouth
another swipe
of a ****** blush

you're at dirt now
digging down right into the earth
creating a trench that's fit
for any future we might have had.

"just out, just out,
you're always out.
why don't you stay home with me?"
you call up
from your deep dark
hole
you're grave built for two
getting deeper by the second.

i add some waxy lip gloss
the kind a ***** could be proud of,
all pink bubblegum and glitter.
never liked the stuff myself,
makes you look like your drooling.
but i know it makes you mad
and you'll never see me
wipe it off as
i walk out the door and
leave you
to your trench.

another late midnight.
another inky dark.
another night void of sounds.
another night
as the only person awake
in a city of dreamers.

i hate nights like these
when the tide of sleep retreats
and leaves me
sitting and waiting,
staring up into the dark
that sits
a foot in front of my face,
praying i slip under.
praying that the night will be kind.
praying that i will fall asleep before
my mind
turns against me.

the rats chew and wrestle
in the walls
the room creaks and groans
and the nobody that's there
sighs close by my ear.
my mind spins
time stands stubborn and laughing
minutes stretch and bend
and night grows ever darker.
childhood fears,
dripping with anxious sweat,
claws and teeth bared,
are born.

i feel their breath.
i hear their thoughts.
i smell their stink.
they thump and bang around
letting me know,
they could have me anytime they wanted...
any time at all.

the glaring red glow of the old alarm
provides no comfort.
the milky moonlight outside my window
just creates more shadows.
eyes squeezed shut
i beg,
to any malevolent ears
that may be  listening.
please,
just let me fall asleep.

my head is full of blue thoughts,
that i can't shake free.
a heavy fog of the type of thoughts
that make my eyes go runny and red.
the blanket of regrets
and bitter disbelief that offers no warmth.
i wouldn't put stock in it
ever
getting any better then this.
i think of lovers never loved
and bodies never held close
kisses hanging dry in the air,
blown away by carefree mouths.
i want the million little things
that arn't really things
that i know i can never have,
i want the moments lost and forgotten
in the darker shades of grey.
i want and i need,
i beg and i hunger.
but i know,
such things
that arn't really things,
are so far out of reach

picture it.
a unstable pairing of a god
and you
a ugly little girl.
feel the gnawing of
knowing whats happening behind
all those closed doors
that you are too afraid to open.
hear yourself begging the god
to come clean,
to just be honest.
taste the venom in his voice
as the god screams that it's all your fault
listen as the god goes on to explain,
how mean you are
and how if
you just wore a little more make-up
or styled your hair every now and again
maybe
he wouldn't have to run into another woman's arms.
feel the tears roll
as he explains how a girl
like you
was lucky he even looked twice.

picture the stupid
ugly little girl you are
believing god
and begging him to stay.
picture it,
really close your eyes and see
this little tragedy play out.

now hold onto for years
and imagine wondering
every now
and again if
maybe
god was right?
and no matter what anyone says
no matter what you have trained yourself
to believe
imagine gods words
haunting you
for years
and years.

He is coming home in six days.
back from his real life.
far away from
this choking town
he had to get away from.
far away from
the family,
that never understood him.
far away from me,
the girl who,
just happened to be in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

he will come back
and everything will be like it was.
we will laugh again
and drink again
and reminisce of times long gone
again.
i will remember how much i loved him
and he will want a warm body to sleep next to
again.

this sad little cycle
is all we have left.
and he get's to leave
weeks from now,
with his hands clean
and the memory already fading
of this choking little town,
of the family that never understood,
and of that girl that
was just in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

you're sleeping next to me.
shades of gray and shifting black
something i can reach out to
in the dark.
your steady breath
brings me in
and blows me away
like a tethered milkweed
a prisoner of the gentle tide
of your breath.

why are you here?
how did you get here?
it couldn't be because of me...
are you lost dearest?
searching out some daemon
or running away from one?
what brought you to my door
what will call out to you
till it leads you away?

what do i do
with these things you put into
my head and
that heavy metal slug
in my chest?

you make me think thoughts
i never wanted to think again
walls crumble and crack
breaking open
breaking down
and i'm too afraid
to look into the light.

i want to sleep with you
want to happen along you
during a dream.
maybe things would make
more sense there.
maybe i would understand.

how you
in all of your majesty
in all of your sublime
simplicity
can be here
sleeping next to me.

it's been
a slow morning.
the wind started early
sweeping away the small stretches of clouds
and leaving dusty blue
for miles and miles
i watch my neighbors
take out the trash
kiss the wife
leave for work.

the old woman to the left
invites me over for coffee
and we talk about
all those years ago
when she was something.
she tells me her stories
of her trips to india
and her cats chasing the rats
that call our houses homes.

she has things to do
and i understand
lying, i say
so do i.

back at home
i wonder
in those years
when i'm old
and i look back
what will i see?

i'm no one special
never really have been.
never been on a trip
never had a great love.
the only stories i have to tell
are of hearbreak
and hard times.
but i guess
someone has to tell
those kinds of stories
t0o.

He pumps away,
only his heavy breathing and dripping sweat
confirming that I'm not doing all this
to myself.
I try my best to enjoy it all and
let him know
and feel proud in the fact.

he is a sweet boy
i don't want to hurt his feelings
but deep down i know
he isn't here with me.
i am the tool easily accessible to fit the job.
and to a certain extent,
he is too.

although the part of me that linked *** and love died out long ago...
it echos sometimes.
like a phantom limb that itches.
or a tumor that makes you smell burnt toast.
sometimes i imagine deep, romantic passions
filmed in rose colored light.
those sweaty
tightly filmed scenes
of two people doing something
vastly different
from ******* or
******* or
getting one off.

something that jane austin would write about.
something ingrid bergman would star in.
something waterhouse would paint.

but this place where i am,
these things i do,
are far from such beauty.

i remember being a young girl in love,
barely a teen taking her first steps out
of being a little girl.
ribbons and dolls discarded
and replaced by
secret diaries and lipstick stolen from my big sister.

it all seems so foolish now.
such a waste. and even though
such thoughts have
lingering pains attached to them,
i know they are true.
i know what the chemical con job called love really is.
i know the true face of man and woman
face to face
in these days.
i know what such ideas have become,
in the world i live in.

you don't believe me.
surprise surprise
so
we go over the story
again.

i left the party early
cause 6foot7
dark haired drink of water
was just too tempting.
i couldn't stop thinking
how i don't want to smash my head
into that brick wall again.
so i left.

he followed me to my car
and when i looked at him
i saw you
and i left.
right then.
leaving 6foot7
dark haired drink of water
in the dust
calling after me
that he will
see me again.
almost like he knew.

i don't know what your friends saw
i don't know what the masses have told you
but i left.

green from the top of your head
to the tips of your toes.
shouting how it's over and making a fuss
cause you know
the kind of girl i am.

i could **** you for saying such things
but i laugh instead
letting the cruelty of the words slip
into my pocket for later.

i grab my keys and add a new layer of
lipstick and leave.
hell,
if i'm in trouble for the crime
i might as well make the trouble worth it.
cause apparently
you know
the kind of girl i am
and this is how girls
like me
act.

an airy happiness
that shocks at first.
but to puzzle over it would be
to wipe it away,
to burn it away like
an early morning fog.

i bask in it
worries hanging around
chiming in every now and again
but for the first time
in a long time
i can wave them away
the buzzing flies they are
they will be back
but not right now.

i dance and sway
in the
clear and sunny day
no trace of the grey clouds
that hid the stars last night.

for some reason
everything just fits into place.
i am happy
in this
same old house
with the same dogs
chewing the same couch
or even the same rats chewing
on the same walls
while i chew the same toast
and drink the same bitter coffee
cause i'm out of sugar
again.

everything fits
and even though you've
been gone days
weeks now...
i am happy.
my mind wants to stray
but i wont let it.
i hold on tight
and imagine i am sitting
on a high cliff
feet dangling
sea busting below
air threatening to whip me away.
i jump and
fall into the couch.
i can't help but
smile.

i open my mouth to say something
but your eyes tell me all i need to know.
this was over for you
long
before you got the guts to have this little
talk.
i can't believe you brought me to this diner
hoping it would rob me of my ability
to make a scene.
i want to cry.
i want to scream.
i want to drag on my knees
and beg you not to leave.
but i can't.
i'm too busy pretending
like i don't give a ****.
a kamikaze tear slips
blowing my cover.
you soften and try to wipe it away
but i pull back sharply
eyes full of hate
if looks could ****
you would be a rat
run over and left on the road
to dry and flake in the sun.
you would be a smear on my tire
as i gun it to ninety
and never look back.
you beg me not to be
like that.
but
if you would have touched me,
i would have fallen apart.
if you would have touched me
memories would flood
tears would break free
and i would beg.
don't be like that
you say.
but the only way
i know how to get through this
is to hate you right now.
don't be like that,
you say...
what *****,
for you
to ask me
to make this
easier
for you.

i'm hungry
and the house is empty.
although
the rats always seem to find food.
sometimes
i wish i were a rat
they seem happy
in this house.
they arn't bothered by the
empty cupboards

i pace
and brew the last cup of coffee.
the only
anything
that i have left.

no milk
no sugar
the rats got the last of that...

the deep growls
and begging
stopped long ago
now
its just
empty.

i watch the food channel
and fill up on images.
i can almost smell the smells
i can almost taste the tastes
the rats run and scurry
stealing crumbs and flavored dust
i let them have it.

i will sit back and
have my coffee
and continue to watch the
buffet flicker by
at least there is that
and rat's have never really been interested
in tv.

ring,
i tell the phone.
be anyone.
i don't care who.

i would even take a bill collector right now.
at least we would have
something
to talk about.

it's dark
and i'm alone and drunk
again
and i just want someone
to call.

i want a warm voice
to hold back the dark
i want to know that i'm
not the only one alive
in the world at
this
very moment.

ring
i tell the phone
bring me good news or
good friends promising
good times.

i don't want ***,
i don't want to be held,
i don't want sweet nothings.
i want someone to drink with
someone to talk
deep talks with
i want you
to ring.

ring ******.
ring.

this misery wants company
this no one
wants someone.

ring.
please ring.

you're drunk and *******
screaming between
spewing *****
how you have
always
hated me.

i'm terrified but i
refuse
to give you the pleasure
so,
as you smash your fist through the plaster by my head
i laugh and wipe absently at the tears.

you roar
and fume
and spit how you're going to **** me
i double dog dare you to try
making sure i grin wide to show you i mean it.

landing on the floor
in a sweaty heap
still mumbling about
the time i lost your mother's necklace
you pass out.

it hits me then,
laying in bed
like a truck
or a train
like your hate filled fists
punching holes in the walls.

i shake
and i cry under that hand
that crept up and clamped itself over my mouth.
i'm helpless
and afraid
and as i watch you sleep
i wonder if the buses have started running
and if
you would even notice
or care
if i was gone in the morning.

walk slow with me
cause love isn't easy
my heart is haunted by
the ghosts of pain
torn through
leaving weak and brittle pieces
glued together.

walk slow
through the rain
at night
as we look at houses
and talk long winded talks
about all the heavy subjects
children
talk about.

we run and we fall
scraping knees
and bruising egos
and making a huge mess of
a once good thing.

walk slow
i begged
but you had to run
to jump
leap and fly
and now
it's all behind you
a misty dream that may
or may not have
really happened.

and still i stroll along
wondering when
if ever
you'll come back
and tell tall tales
of all those wonderful things
you saw
way up there in the sky.

i wish i were drunk.
it's hot as hell and you dropped
another hint that it stopped
being fun for you weeks ago.

i did what i could
but what i could do
wasn't enough and
you suddenly decided
i'm not what you're looking for.
the used car in the lot
you just had to test drive.
yes, it's the right price
but god look at those dents...

i'm sick of the ****
the windows are painted shut
it's just me and the heat
trapped in this **** house...

i pour myself a glass
jack over ice
and sit staring out the window
wishing it bothered me more that you left.
lack of tears just prove it
doomed from the start

i knew this time would come
i knew it
hell
i caused it.
being happy too long is for suckers anyway.

the ***** helps my head
and the heat
sweaty and
suddenly bored with
brooding over your
tantrum

i find a cig in the couch
light it
and blow choking clouds
maybe my luck is starting to turn...

i am not your toy.
i can not be stored away
in the dark and dust
till you decide you want to
play.

you tell me how much you care
just not like that
as you sift through the pools of
our discarded clothes.
you assure me it was all in fun
and of the good times we had
and maybe if i'm lucky
the good times i have to come.

you were out the door
before the pillow was cold.
and i was smoking the cig
you left me.
i finish up the tasks that were beyond you
and lay satisfied and sleepy
laughing at
your promise of attention later
if it worked out.

weeks passed
and one day
you storm
through
all **** and vinagar
cause you heard of good times
i found
on my own.

you throw all the old
sticks and stones
hooting and hollering
over so much spilt milk.

you never understood did you?
never really got a handle on the fact
that tied down means tied down
together
if you want to be free
then
you're free
and i'm free
and this free woman
acts accordingly.

i am not a toy
that can be stored away
in the dark and dust till
you decide
you want to
play.

and
i'm not sorry
not for a second.

such news can only be broken over coffee
bad burned coffee
leftovers switched from one *** to another
this ****** smoked filled cafe
home to drunks and low lifes
insominacs and druggies shaking
over coffee.

you tell me all about her
like somehow
that makes it better.
how she makes you feel
how lost you were
before.

i stir in sugar and cream
till the burned coffee taste
fades
i sip and nod
adding more sugar because
my hands need something to do.

i grin and joke
thank god no one was hurt
right?
god
what crap
straining between my
teeth, glued
in that chiseled smile
because
well
what else could i say?

you sigh
relieved
and all kinds of pleased with yourself
yes
at least we can be adults about this.

i excuse myself
and cry in the bathroom
and when i come back
we are out of sugar
and my coffee has gone cold.

every time you come into town
you toss things around
making a giant mess.
i've always missed you so much
and you are always gone
so long...

you come home
for a week or two
and we're kids again
walking home in the rain
laughing and swimming through the
downpour.

every time you come home I
drown
in memories
and I love you all over again.
the bad blood never stains,
it's the good memories i can never
wash out.

every time you come home
we drown in each other
till
sooner or
later
memory lane dead ends and
it's time for you to go
again.

i'm always so surprised when
you pack up and keep on truckin without
batting an eye
see ya
so long
see you around thanksgiving
like it's a day away.
and the pain in my chest is worse
then it was the first
second
or third time.

i'll never learn
and
i'll fall for it
every time.
how unfair of you
being the one that gets away
again
and again
and again
and....

you
yes you,
look up.
just for a moment.
notice me,
hold my stare.

every morning
you're there
same cup of orange juice
same newspaper
same half eaten muffin

i'm here every morning too
i have my usual drink
my usual dog earred book
my bagel
why haven't you
noticed me
like i
always
seem
to notice
you.

come on sugar
look up for just a second
and see the rest of your life
quietly reading in the corner.

come on baby
come on
look up.

there is a pain inside my head
but it's dull and
far away.
my sweat stinks of
whiskey and gin
and my mouth tastes like
mistakes made.

another night
a drunken vacation from
the shame.
you said you had a bad day
i was getting drunk
so you wanted
to do the same.

and for a night
the good ol days
weren't so far away
and we knew nothing of the ache
waiting for us in the morning.

that night
we were exactly who
we wanted to be
doing
exactly
what we wanted
to do.
there were no problems
no broken hearts
no debt
no death
in sight.

there was me
there was you
a night to stretch
and bottles to ****.

rats
run through the walls
scratching and chewing
and fighting over my crumbs.

i know your there...
i see your tails and hear your nails
skittering across the broken tiles

a inch or two of plaster
between you and me.
you chewing through
right by my tossing and turning head.

the sticky traps catch dust
the poison would **** the dog
so we are left to the
old rusty snaps
the blood stained
guillotine
sticky with caked blood and hair
of your fallen brothers
and sisters
and god knows
how many other relations.

i hate the snap
i hate the painful squeals in the night
i hate the ones that catch
but dont die.

i hate all that
but not as much
as
i
hate
rats.

the last check
a startling
$393.45

minus the
$200
for rent
brings us
to
$193.45

from there
its either the
$139 electric bill
already a month
past due...
or the $66.57
for the cell bill
or the
$89 total
for
gas
tv
and
internet.

there is also the growing
student loans but
fat chance on that one.
i can't even remember
how much
i owe.

there is the matter of food
but in truth
i could stand to loose
a few.

i could blow it
all
on *** and *****
which helps me sleep
instead of crying
for hours
in the dark.

i could just
cash it
and
light it all on fire

either way
its a small drop in an
empty bucket
evaporating
slowly.

either way
its one month left
and then...

lost my job today.
and
i started drinking cause
well
i have nothing to do tommorow.

i cried a bit
but quickly realized
it did nothing
but give me a headache.

i should worry
of course
about rent
about food
about all the other bills
crushing me to death.
i should worry about a lot.

but for right now
right this very second,
i'm just sitting
drinking and writing
like all of you readers
asked me how my day was.

all i have
right now
right this very second
is a cold beer
and four more in the fridge.

and for some reason...
that's just fine.
and
i'm not worried
at all...

you left me here alone with him
and i could **** you right about now.
the smile pinned to my face begins to hurt
and the well timed nods make my neck ache.

he is the kind of stupid
that knows
everything
about everything
and wants you to listen in
wide eyed awe as he tells you
exactly
how wrong you are
and why.

he offends every sense i have.
his tacky talk and awful aftershave
he sweats buckets and leaves a slick slime
every time he touches me.
he laughs that donkey's bray of a laugh
and stares at my **** while he jokes about
enjoying the view.
he paws at me and decides i owe him something
for the smoke
he offered
that i was dumb enough to take.

i search for an exit but there is none.
as he goes into another ******* yarn about
something no one cares about
my head is pounding with...

i could **** you right about now.
i could **** you right about now.
i could **** you right about now.

try
try
and try
again.

to be a better person
to make the right choices
to knock down those walls
to give a ****.

it's definitely easier
to not try
to not give a ****.
spend my days walking those clouds
riden the red eye
high up and far away from the people
directly next to me.
grin as they shake thier heads
and
tsk
tsk
tsk...
hell,
i could do it forever.

but the one who really matters
my star player
well, that reflection looks deep inside
with those sad eyes of hers
from her framed place up on the wall
and
well
****
you can't run from that.
can't lie when she knows
the truth.

so i try
and try
and try
again.
busted broken beaten
refusing to stay down.
fighting cause it's
the only thing worth doing
anymore.

I woke up to my life today,
and I couldn't stop crying.
It stretched out before me
for  years and years
and years.

sitting here at 3 a.m.
deciding whether or not to
leave you.

my bags have been packed for weeks.
hidden among the piles of ***** laundry.

i know you love me,
i'm the one who is not so sure anymore...

how did it fade so fast?
how did it get so ****** up?

we did start in
all
the wrong ways.
we had so much hurt so early on...
so much to forget when the memories should have
just been starting.

the buses will start running soon.

it's unfair of me to do this...
i know...
but i am a coward.

you will have so many questions,
and i won't have a single answer...

it's better this way.

ralphie was acting up.
screaming,
kicking,
whining...

all of us on the bus that cold morning
held our breath.

"sit down!!" she yelled
"stop it!!" she screamed
"when we get off this bus your gunna get it!"
she warned.

all of us along for the ride just
looked away.
avoiding the bitter taste of
what might happen at home
behind closed doors.

she screams
tugging and pulling at any stray
arm
leg
clump of hair
she can reach.

two more stops and i'm free...

we all choke on all the things we should say
we stare out the windows,
the lucky ones had a book to bury themselves in.

"...****** ralphie get the **** up!!"

as i stand to leave,
pairs of eyes beg me to take them with.

the bus slows
i step off and the collective finds a new found intrest
in the the ads lining the walls.

ralphie is on his own.

how vain i have become.
all day i worry,
i wonder who is reading now?
i wonder what they have said about me?

i used to scribble down poems
in a tiny leather bound book.
i alone knew of the moments they painted.

and now
and now and now

the whole world can stumble upon
my name
my words
my secret thoughts and feelings

how vain i have become,
waiting with baited breath
for someone to tell me if they approve
or not.

i miss my little leather bound book.

he was angry with me again.
i was depressed and drinking,
alone,
in our bed.

he forced his words through clenched teeth.
"talk to me, maybe you will feel better..."

"i don't want to talk."
i told the bottle.

at that he was up and pacing the room.
"girls always want to talk!!
talk!!"

watching him pace made me dizzy
and his growing anger with me made me laugh...

"i'm not most girls..."
giggling drunk taking another messy swig.
"just leave me be sugar..."

he left
i fought the urge to throw the bottle after him
and hear that wonderful
shatter.

lucky for him there was a gulp
or two
that could not be wasted.

i want you to come home.
i sit,
drunk and drinking,
******* the last hit off of cigs you smoked
days ago...

i want you to come home.

but you are miles away,
flashing that grin
at the girls who were always
conisdered your type.

painted bubbly bright blond
rays of sunshine that  just can't wait to
tell you of their highschool cheerleading years...

i want you to come home.

but your out
buying drinks and promising to save a dance
or two.

and it's ok with me cause i have
books that need reading
and games that need playing...

you say not to worry cause in the end
you always come home.
i try and ignore the purfume thats not mine
and the numbers you kept for a laugh.

i should have known better
loving you as hard as i do...
how could i last?

i was on the yearbook staff in highschool.

i guzzle down his touch like cheap wine.
fighting through the bite to get the buzz.
i soak up every drop of attention he secretes.
it has to last me...

he ***** like he has something to prove,
not necessarily to me.

we finish and he gets up to leave.
and i'm thankful,
he snores in his sleep.

i find myself watching your mouth.
i can almost taste your taste.
i can almost feel the soft graze of your lips
on my neck

if i really think about it hard enough...
i can feel our teeth clack in a rough kiss.

sometimes i find myself watching your hands.
they stir up dreams so vivid they could pass for memory.

...rough calused man's hands.
hands that could handle my fury.
hands that could set the world on fire.

what would they feel like?
such rough hands feeling out
the softest parts of me.

i imagine those hands in my hair...

nothing is worse,
than thinking thoughts
you know
you shouldn't be thinking...

you try and shut them up,
try and cut them off mid-sentence.

alas,
this just makes them scream more.

they echo.

...and the very thing that makes them thoughts that you shouldn't be thinking, is the thing that makes them
stick.

the horror you feel
for that one second,
gives them new life...

...turns them from fleeting thoughts,
to secrets
that must be kept.

i knew a girl who wore scars like medals.
she woud tell me awful stories about
awful things that happened in her awful life...

She always told them with a wide joker's grin.
Her waxy lipstick red lips stretching and curving
into a smile that held hate and tears and years
of not so funny laughter.

Sometimes she told me stories,
like all that hurt,
all that shame,
all those horribul
horribul things...were such a
laugh.