the sun drips
like
a
yellow yolk

oozes
down
the gold knots
of my spine
breathe the first of Spring days
the radio plays our favorite song

i see you backwards
quickly
all the times we had
vulnerable;
gone.

the sky is blue, the lake is blue
your eyes are blu
and they say i look like your
sister
oh gods. help me
i can’t feel anything
except you
and everything here is you

letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones, and your name is Soul

there are drops of Jupiter
in your hair
and
laughing jewels trickling
out your eyes
a harem of moons
hanging from
your pretty ears
constellations your
background music

even when i look at your
night face,
comfort and in peace
i am reminded that
yes,
even the largest of bodies
can be coaxed into their
loving orbit
the lord of worlds
fits inside your
smooth palms
and cancer
is surmountable.

prophet tongue with
stabbing perceptions
i gave him my name
while in bed.

soft white curtains
though still chamber thick
cold steel hands
and the room sliced into pieces
by morning light
but haunted by night sounds
crept into open wounds of the heart

chills.

his hand
resting on my thigh while he snores
summer bruised and adventurous
though callous youth
with his unbandaged scabbed knee
skating last night.

moment forgotten in the carride
but a stone monument staring
at me on the kitchen counter.

pretty names, but you have the prettiest.*
angel's white dust pushed around by
the dingy desert winds dry meadow murmurs.

heated leather seats, **** smooth leather pants
and slender, skinny beautiful body with
a name attached to it, smoke smelled
of burnt raspberries

and the conversation burned like them too,
i feel things for you and perhaps
transparently similiar damage
bleeding rubies out like sap

the conversations dripped like sap too.

i've written sixty eight poems
on adderall in an hour and all of them
are living up and getting married
having kids and taking three week
vacations in the carribean
living fulfilled lives under no control

healthy, fruit dripping naturally
even when things go wrong
they sleep soundly.
i am distracted by how perfect they are
and admire them with jealousy
when i should be asleep

mr death's blue eyed girl
night falls and she's in the bathroom
again with a pocket of pills and her will
to live faltering or shivering in the corner*

the vintage radio plays and she's
stuck in the sweltering heat alone
in the kitchen, hero left her the victim
and she's bending silver spoons with her mind

saying she knows what he's thinking
a psychic or an unbearable palm reader
and she's suddenly taking off again
perhaps some other guy will pick that will to live up

with his nimble fingers and lovely wrists
she was the victim, but she's feeling lifted
again into small fragile scopes of life

[doesn't every ugly thing
look good in cursive?]*

tattoo the image as a sleeve
like i'm too young to care
if you're taking care of yourself
vinylrecordshatteringvulnerableOHSO
it's not even summer yet
and i already know i ain't over a **** thing
love like your slender, lanky long body

large brown eyes and the smell of
smoke in your hair
hazel honey energy, making out on the balcony
promise land really is just a graveyard
of discarded lights like you and i
in the middle of a desert
and i can't think straight, not since your lips
first captured mine

pool chairs.
eating emeralds
smoking insects
and becoming the locust
of the world.

party looking like bloodletting
indoor wallpaper rosyblurry violent cough
and vision up like a promised land
windy alcove and energized balcony chats

my fear of heights, lime nicotine
you'll save my anxiety taking me home
naked to the core underwear and bra
talking quietly as you drunk drive
lonely dragonfly intersection intertwined
fingers and again - those kingly emeralds

woke with hypothermic and shaky skin
a thought: we are made of street lamps
and damp grass feet dripping dew tonight

we live in the color blue under electric moon
and my skin and clothes will be lined up
on top of the dresser for you to sink your teeth in later

my hands are cold in their lipping grasps but your
hips are warm, and desert breathes dragonfly
and smells of chlorine, our legs kaleidoscope

in the pool's reflection.
i am still cold, i am still in spring breaks
broken and inviting your scent back in my life.

in already @ first streetlamp
the ocean states away
with my broken complacency,
new deserts, mollasses blood
settled in my feet within each footprint
lunar lisping in the night air
augment consolement in me
because i feel empty
eyes swimming in the new view

settled in a glass grown vineyard,
the sleep-addled living room
door with gutteral hinges, making friends
with pall mall smoke rings
and let ghost blood spill all over
on couches and our moncler's
wake up to the sound of you crying
on the staircase feeling the scratchy carpet
through blankets on the bed
like my heart is teething, hurting again
he picked me up and lay me there
like you once did except you've been dead
for five years

then there is you in all your theatricality
chasing gelid wind like its a nowhere job
selfies on snowy sidewalks
have we more time than just one
or two? have you enough of my futility?
when angels sweat they let out
icy winds and rain but
when you carassed my cheek
i felt the cool of the breeze smoothing my skin
and i understood to make my feet move
after the wind and never stop

it's too boring to be simply up to no good
vanilla skin and ashen lips, shaking hands
sly, slender nostrils that started drip wine again
convinced she's not a person without him

when she laughs that cool laugh
these straight lines that keep her
coiled and uncoiling again
she smells like absolut and lust, cheap perfume

ash stains and cosmopolatin zines
bathroom savoring night-rain
like lorn and lone trucker tobacco
sky forged in dark blues outside a cracked
window, like you in the closet ****
but the door opened up enough to tell.

1. flesh simpering but the voice a sullen
conversation of silence and broke dreams
television with hundred and forty channels
and half open beer cans.

2. silence still drags kissing and murdered
autumns, shadow of hands over flush skin
lurking moonlight invited.

in morning i'll wake with a human
but tonight you are a god with your hands
roaming my hipbones & sleep with
you, my mind running thoughts
like trains on spinal cord railroads

i want to be a somebody to someone
to carry more than just a solitary wail
of a train across a train track north
in the view of a blazing, starry night
and the view of withered fields

i want to carry this torch boldly into
the sunset horizon, to love and to cast
caution to the wind with reckless abandon
that tigress that cannot be tamed
one who wins all the arm wrestles

travel six times around the globe
and see everything with my hands
not just my eyes

other times, i can just curl up
and realize the only thing i can do
is relinquish myself in the crevice
of your arm and shoulder quietly
equal passion there as much as the silence
of the unknowns out there

thick laughter and full bellied countries
and oceans between us, but messages
in bottles helped alleviate the tetchy loneliness
white gold wine, paul mitchell shampoo
velvet scented, beguiling homesickness
in this neon sadness the february rain dumps
victim of starry angel teeth, sinking into my skin
dirt is flower rust, love is southern gothic
miles are scars along the wires and satellites
creeping treacle blues.

it's ok to:

        1 prefer tea over coffee
        2 say i don't know
        3 have off days
        4 have days off
        5 ask questions
        6 work how you want to work
        7 tidy desk
        8 messy desk
        9 hand messy phone calls to me
      10 depend on the team
      11 forget things
      12 use the bathroom when you need to
      13 wear sweats every friday
      14 have quiet days
      15 have loud days where you joke and laugh

Have a good ****-day. We almost made it to the weekend!

Sunday I met you
and now it's Thursday
haven't left your bed
since

Spring weather so riotous
and erratic
love so dangerous it breaks
hearts and bedsprings
bent blankets and electric
tingles hands scraping
each other's bodies

u got me waiting
blue eyed dreamer girl
like

eating dreams
we on an ultralight beam
and evenings are gold

you got to know i haven't
always felt like this
heaven's got dawn streets
laced with honey-faith
and sunlight texture

grace my feet
and i **** with that
just with your friends
and your blue eyes

/****/

3 generations of dust gathered
on a groove outside my
window,
breeze licks hair licks salt to nose
are we all not
here but to suffer
in our own forgetful minds

This loneliness and sunny languor
is a mirage
so big I cannot fathom
it, nor can I remember
my sadness's Name

fall in love with the idea of drugs
shed skin and become the person
your parents told you to never be

without ever noticing you're growing
up at the speed of light
seven sleepless days and you're feeling loose

under the belly of a windless night
rorschach tests, bottles and naked america
clothing herself next to you while you scroll through your phone

hello slurs into
i miss you s...
                        ...o much
days anesthetic infused with sun
i'm so sick of being tired
i'm so tired of being sick
your touch scares me sometimes
with how quickly it comes
and outlines my hands
then: Fade away beneath the skin.
At night comes my witching hour
but sometimes midday
my happiness dies suddenly