Blindness bright emerging
all-at-once

You catch me, a deer in the headlights.
of your headlights - head-lights

but the blue ones - that linger in two on your face.
the ones I let myself see rarely
the crystal ones that I swim in
amongst a daydream. that sometimes I drown into.

You brake as your presence ****** the surface of my skin.
didn’t mean to bump that polished shine on your car.
(Your teeth are shining)

Brake, the gears,
-hold back-
whilst I’ll waver on further,
back to my subtle distance muted in the dark.
sorry I’ll go faster. return faster to where I was heading,
before your lights outshine my being.
See me run back to shadows under dulling streetlights -
before I let those headlights consume me whole in blaze.
Look then I’m gone, unharmed.

So go, continue with your ride. I’ve left you untouched
forget it. maybe until next time.
when perhaps I’ll want to play real victim of a crashing collision.

do you say a word


every time a woman met her husband

looked at his eyes and stayed for a word

he didn't say it, as he has got tired

he went asleep without saying that word

except good night and morning may be good

the woman was pretty, the woman was young

the woman wanted to be heard, she wanted to be fold

when she went a walk, one comes along

he was strange he had a bad heart

his heart filled with hate, his heart like an art

extracting by devil extracting by hard

now the angel went away and the devil brought

the strange went in a hurry and he looked

at her face with an only big smile

he said to her one, two, three, all words

how attractive are you? Why aren't you touched?

How are you walking on foot? you must ride!

Inexpensive car, or high-rank plane in its ride

If they were not, you must ride

A good horse spread wide

If it was not that, you must ride

A strong camel wearing a beautiful dress

Its colors gain from your cheeks red in appearance

And green as yours, the shinning of your eyes

And yellow in above as your hair colors

If it was not there, you must ride

A man who carried you without any pain

He can travel with you, felt with again

Happy, strong eager and you would be his woman

Come with me and you would be heard another

The woman lost her mind, the woman appeared another

The woman had not seen, a strange in her thought

As she heard what she wanted for a time she went blind

She obeyed him and let him ride

They took his car, it was not unlike

Trying to tap telegrams
On the back of my iphone
In a faux leather seat
In the back of my mothers car.
Anyone will tell you I have a
Knack
For the contrary
And there’s strangely no argument,
Where I got it from.
The seat belt sits uncomfortably across my throat,
Stopping my words,
A space formerly only occupied by her gaze,
Though my future career may benefit,
My current psyche does not.

Nothing like the open road
Unburdening life's heavy load
Unbridled freedom was bestowed
Til the day
My car got towed

You are not quite yet up in years,
but to your ears:
familiar are the faded tunes, dripping from the radio like soda from bottles you didn't quite close,
tapping from your stiff foot.

On the asphalt you walk barefoot,
because we walk barefoot where we live.
You are alive where you drive.

You are not quite yet up in years,
but in your ears:
sound declines
like each hill you descend in the fifty-two miles of wild between us,
and you ignore the posted signs
telling you to quiet the roaring and whipping of wind in your busted windows,
telling you to slow the tearing and straining of your tires.

On the asphalt and off, you know how to set fires,
because your late old man and your unseen mother taught you how.
You may not know, but I see how you deepen your brow.

Old Blue has more troubles that you may care to admit,
because she can only just make it.

Neither of you are quite up in your years,
and still I have my fears,
but they are not tears,
because you
and Old Blue
take us where we can get lost
and not feel the loss.

You can say that I'm a little out of touch
I fell down but I can't climb back up
None of my friends give a ****
I guess I'm **** out of luck.

If I'm not feeling blue I dont feel much
I know they'll tell me to **** it up
Moving on is just hard as ****
I'm tired of being down on my luck.

Its like holding in the clutch
I press the gas but just rev up
Going nowhere fast my motor is ******
I blew a gasket, yeah just my luck.

I hope I won't always need a crutch
I need motivation to just wake up
Get me a drink until I don't give a ****
I guess I've been making my own bad luck.

Exchanging or replacing an old automobile
can be an intensely emotional experience for anyone
I still have the license plate screws from the first car my mom sold
although I didn’t care at all when my dad sold his car first
I remember crying at the dealership when they took my mom’s Toyota
I don’t even remember my dad telling us he got a new Ford
backseat on the left, behind the driver, was my designated spot, still is

I kept them in an empty Hubba Bubba OUCH! Gum tin, the screws
sometimes I’d open it up just to hold them
and wonder why I’d cared so much about that car

I exist in his lower lip,
and upper teeth.

I exist in the way he used to say my name,
twisted and voluptuous.

I exist in the shade of his black curtains,
the last breathe of his cigarette,
and the slow sip of his drink.

I exist in the backseat of his car,
3 a.m sharp on his wrist watch,
and every knock on my bedroom door.

I exist in the sake of our past,
in every attempt of forgetting him without losing myself,
but I do not exist in his memory.