“If you ever make your way
I would love to be your guide.”
“Something will land soon
so maybe we can,
thanks for still knowing me.”
“Thank you for still knowing me.
It still shocks me that you’ve managed
to stick around with me
being how I am.”

“I’ve been thinking.”
"About?”
“Why you care. But
don’t go into it.”

“I don’t suppose
I ever had
a choice in the matter”

“This was the time you hated me. still could be.”
“I just need to stop talking”

“What caused it?”
“Living where I do
this dismal place
I hate where I’m at now”

“Last night,
I figured I should do it
Tell you I’m sorry for what made you leave
I hope you stay this time.”

“Want to know what I think about when I’m stressed at work?”
“What’s that?”
“When I came back
and you knocked on the door.
And I felt safe.”

“Seeing your name makes me smile.”
“I really have missed you.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back,
“You have no idea how scared I was.”
“You are always good to me. I’m the one who is bad.”
“I don’t like it when you say mean things toward yourself.”
“Well in this case it’s true.”
“I really hope we can see each other”
“I like spending my birthday with you.”

“I never wanted to leave, I just felt I should.”
“Why?
It’s got to be more than just the logistics of distance.”
“I went to a dark place.
I haven’t been actually happy here in a long time.”
“You’ve always got a happy place to return to.”

“I’d have liked to talk in person
but on the chance
I don’t wake up some day, I just wanted to say that I love you.”
“I love you and miss you too. I always will.”
“I hope so.”
“You exist and I somehow met you.
I’ll be forever thankful.”

“I’m really really thankful
I didn’t have to bury you.”
“I need to thank you for
helping me through it.”

“Please outlive me.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
“Then promise to never forget me.”
“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“What happened? I’m ready to hear.”
“I got depressed
isolated
started getting attention locally, I went with it because
you didn’t deserve it.”

“Why didn’t
we
talk.”

“I don’t know.”
“Did you forget me?“
"I didn’t forget.
Not once.”

“I was thinking about myself.”
“It’s hard to believe you loved me.”
“But I did love you. I still do.”

“I make problems for myself,
when it gets too real I run.
I know
that doesn’t give
answers and I’m so sorry.
I’m not like you.
If you need me to stay away just tell me.”

“No. Even in my darkest hell, I never stopped loving you.”
“I don’t care how bad
it seems. I never stopped
loving you either.”

“I wish I could make food for you.”
“I’d cook for you too babe. I make a mean fajita. I miss you a lot.”
“ARE YOU SAYING YOU’RE GOING TO COOK MY CAT?!”
“I would never do such a thing! That’s out of context!”
“Haha, But really I’d love to cook for you or have you cook for me. I miss you too. So much.”
“Come home.”
“I will. I promise babe.”

There’s something to be said
for the nostalgic banality
of fading industries,

standing in line to buy stamps,
request blank checks,
or updating vehicle registrations.

Reminders that we seldom truly know
what nothing feels like.

Thumbprints on the underside of reality
two steps left of the center line,
and if you look back, it disappears completely.

the same way sleeping through the night
became a chore after realizing
the most peculiar part about
you silhouetted in my doorway,
is that it’s
you.
Silhouetted in my doorway.

Across the cheap Ikea pine,
that comfortable laugh doomed me.

Like a worn-in afghan,
and the smell of wax papered spice cabinets.
It made me grateful beyond reason.

But still, the linoleum peels, and tube lights
flicker pop
back to dark.

So I savor the minute
spent lacing each eyelet of my faded hiking boots.
Making sure the door is locked twice before I leave,
trying not to wonder
where it is you go at night.

For William and Meredith


For treatment of panic and anxiety disorders,
short-acting anxiolytics are generally recommended
to provide temporary bursts of clarity
but should be reassessed periodically for
usefulness and concerns regarding tolerance,
dependence,
and abuse.

Xanax releases dopamine into the brain
to function as a neurotransmitter to send signals
between nerve cells
including reward motivated behavior
and pathways known to reinforce addictive neuronal activity

Perhaps to build her,
you had to break yourself
amongst the glass of that summer day.
Leave her waiting for your hair to peek
around a weathered edge
toward a forgotten living room corner

You are still her Patron Saint.
A long shadow cast across a small ghost.

She still screams at the sky to stop raining
beats her fists down the path
to the house of death
unceasing, and changeless.
Prodding a dull,
familiar
wound.
One that leaves its mark,
with pain felt more
from memory
than from anything else.


Withdrawal and rebound symptoms commonly occur and
necessitate a gradual reduction
to minimize the effects of discontinuation.
Not all withdrawal effects are evidence
of true dependence or withdrawal.

Recurrence may suggest no more
than the drug having the expected effect
and that,
in the absence of the drug,
the symptom has returned to pretreatment levels.

A crisp spring afternoon,
curled face down on the kitchen floor
oxygen struggling to exit ribcage,
remind yourself to breathe,
to perform.

Find your phone,
tell him you think about killing yourself
a lot.
He tells you he has a weekend to plan.

I still think about how wrong it is
to expect language to work like TV.
To exist as something you have to see.

The more literal you are,
the more metaphorical people will think you are being.

When the identity of another
depends on an extension
of your own invisibility,
every minute is spent
catastrophizing. Counting the steps to an exit.
Knowing to find quiet and dark
when breaths begin to quicken,
but before vision goes cloudy clear.

The order of this sequence is subtle
but profound.

Involuntary entering of fight-
or-flight mode indicates
some type of trauma. An
inability to talk yourself down
from ledges placed beneath you,
independent of will.

Lungs, larynx,
and tongue corrode,
claiming aphonia as sanctuary.
While a darkened frame lies atop you,
as if you were everything.
But not to him.

Lightning bugs laid dead all over the island.
There had been an unseasonable snap of cold
previously unheard of in the area.
Blurred thoraxes coagulated near the cattails out back
in dark masses,
the length of a baby or so.

Unraveling your fingers across their dark husks,
I watched them ripen
like black bibles.
Tattered forewings wincing
in the half-
morning rain.

Fireflies produce a "cold light",
devoid of infrared or ultraviolet frequencies.
This chemically produced light is uninhibited by logic
or necessity,
occupying a lithe minnow pool
between science and beauty.

At night along certain river banks
fireflies exhibit near perfect phase synchronization of their light emissions,
exposing the framework behind every living thing.
This is the nature of our midnights
when no one else is left.

Beaches are created when currents force sand
and various other sediments
across offshore rock formations,
resulting in erosion
and slumping along the edge of the landmass.

When monitoring the shoreline from an elevated point
at the correct angle,
one can readily observe the land rolling
back out beneath the waves
each evening.

In the mornings when the waves recoil,
strangers are generated with a frequency
of intermediate
to large cities.

Alive.
Human.
Could end up one,
and not the other.
Work cut out
to keep from abandoning both.
No point in making it if there’s nothing left
when you get there.

When survivors get caught smiling
we don’t believe them.
For they had something, now gone.
No matter how much loved, hated, or bickered.
All that’s left now is blood,
and sand.

Each day does not hurt the same,
but then not every day hurts different either.

The gruesome ballet continues on
and the weight really starts to drop off.
There’s all the makings for it to rain.
But it won’t.

Day 1:
“Oh hey what’s up man, how’s your day been today?”

“Pretty solid, I was weirdly productive at work so that was nice. Just gonna get some rest now.”

“Wouldn’t you rather think about that time in 3rd grade when you beat up your classmate Patrick for no reason and told him to keep quiet while your teacher walked the line?”

“What? No. Why on Earth would I want that?”

“Just thought I’d ask. It’s been back here awhile.”

Day 2:
“Sup dude?”

“Kinda busy right now. Working a new deadlift PR. Can this wait?”

“Can you carry on a relationship that doesn’t end with a woman crying and your fists breaking your furniture?”

Day 3:
“Hey…”

“What are you gaining from this?”

“Me? Nothing, I’m just making sure you don’t forget.”

“What’s the point in remembering?”

“Everyone else has to. What makes you so special?”

Day 4:
“…….”

“I can hear your breathing.”

“……………”

“Just say whatever you want.”

“She’s been active on her social media accounts today.”

“I know.”

Day 5:
“Man, you’re lucky you’ve at least got a dog to hang out with you.”

“Yeah man, she keeps me going.”

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yeah I always do why?”

“Well her collar’s off at night so if she got out no one would ever find her.”

“She’s fine I promise you.”

“Well she’s small and has dark fur so hopefully car headlights are as confident as you are.”

Day 6:
“Good morning.”

“No. I’m dead serious. Today is not the day.”

“Whoa now, why the hostility?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here for.”

“I saw a camo energy drink this morning and broke down sobbing at 7 am in the middle of a crowded gas station because I could physically feel her going on with her day no matter how hard I try to hold on.  I missed the way her hair tastes like sullen acoustic guitar songs and how she walks around in the mornings wearing only a bra as she gets ready for work. Modestly brazen. I can’t stop thinking about how my skin felt like it belonged to me for the first time the moment her body pressed against mine and she let the curve of her smile crash against my crooked face. Can’t stop missing the way she spun on her toes when she had a secret she wanted to share so what, what the **** could you possibly have to tell me? Let’s hear it big shot.”

“For a moment a self-inflicted gunshot wound looks like a halo in full bloom.”

Day 7:
“Please. I’m begging you. I can’t handle anymore right now. I need a break from this just for an hour.”

“Remember how she lotions her entire body after a shower with her wet hair ******* and you couldn’t stop being amazed at the fact that you’ve never seen anyone lotion their *** before?”

“Yeah, we both know I remember that.”

“Why couldn’t you just stop?”

“I don’t know. I tried to explain to her that my soul felt like whiskey smells every time I yelled at her and I hated myself for it. I was sick then and am getting the help I need, but the silence is more powerful than therapy.”

“I see the tip of the iceberg, and I worry about you.”