if you think you're beautiful
i don't want to win that lottery
take it all:
the baby,
eyes
and mirror
they all have
impurity and you eat hearts
like a delicacy

while i'm alone
at my house searching for my
glasses i cast away
because i couldn't
look at you any longer

get it away from me
empty it out my eyes
i'm not brave enough
to scoop these orbs
out of their sockets
empty it out
let them harden
into rocks
the crumble like sand

got a condo in manhattan
but it's empty unless i want to be
cold in the winter
and alone; comfortable

used to call an old flame up around that
area and just vibe
no words, pure concentration on
the movements of our energies

and how they connect to the stars
above or maybe we were just high
out of our minds and being warm
next to each other watching the rain

was something we both could take
home with nostalgic feelings
silence so comforting and numbing

midriff cut from the universe
and diamond rings look good on her
every finger except the i'm-married-one
perky ears and silk smooth skin

adept and endearing accent
even when she's mad at me
and the way her shoulder blades curve
she's good at math and ***;

things i like more than the usual
triple threat, face, ****, breast
personality of an office chair.

i'm eating glass shards
and complaining about
the way my gums bleed
one day i'm gonna turn
inside out and become some
other body or somebody else

starting with the dentures first
and the three thousand dollar
surgery that you flew out to florida
to get won't mean a thing
because i'm somebody new
not a living embarrassment

Each day,
I count the highway signs
as I pass by,
hoping to follow them all
and tattoo them on my skin
with the dust of my tires.

Each day,
I drive the same route to work
and then home,
wishing,
just once,
my heart would go off-road.

Each night,
I mournfully regale the moon
with tales
of journeys great men traveled,
trips brave women blazed,
and my own bland,
listless meanderings between
work
and then home.

Each night,
the Moon beckons me
to chase the horizon
with open arms,
calls vehemently
for the chained thing
beating in my breast
to fly headfirst
into the Unknown.

One night
I will listen.