it's a friday night and i am sat at the top of the bleachers with three packs of maltesers i told the cashier were for my friends with a blurry grin and the hot chocolate in my hands lied. it's lukewarm and tastes of milk, not sweets, and the taste of it still taints my lips because i'm forcing myself to drink it anyways. the stars are yellow set against navy hues and they're blinking down at me.

there's announcers shouting something about the game occurring on the field but i'm not listening, never listening, never apathetic or empathic enough to want to. the music blares, cheers roar, announcers boom, the scoreboard flashes-  it's cold enough to be huddled beneath blankets but i've only got a sweatshirt hiding my hands, hiding my fingers, hiding me. my ribs shiver and the ghosts in the spaces between them gather closer for a warmth that won't come. the moon says hello to me and i struggle to catch enough air to say it back.

my friends are nowhere to be found and i can't feel my fingertips and the flavor of lukewarm hot chocolate leaves me and i'm closing my eyes, shutting them tight, disconnecting.

there's suddenly no one here, just me and the blackness behind my eyelids. it's like i'm watching humans but never being one of them. maybe i'm meant to be an alien- maybe that one star blinking at me is a planet welcoming me home- maybe if i lay my lungs to rest they'll leave me be.

i can feel my heart giving up on me.

I have no idea
what I feel anymore
I don't understand why
I seem to be the way I am

I no longer can
tell what emotion is
even if I could feel any, and
none of it cares to make sense  

I want to be near
other people and feel as
they feel for myself, to know I
still can and connect with them

But I'm constantly feeling
disconnected from myself and
regardless of what happens to me
I'll always feel as though myself is slowly
pulling away

Stay down soldier.
Don't wake up again
Stay here inside your mind again.
Your heart's under attack again.

Sleep.
It's safer in your dreams my friend
Don't dream of you and her my friend
Don't dream about the bitter end
Just dream of something else right now and lend.

Your thoughts
To work that you've still to do
To family, friends, your puppy too
Don't think about your love true
The color of your hearts not blue

It's RED.
This Love's not dead
She's in your head
Just lead
There by by yourself instead
Leaving you with the chilling dread

Be Strong.
In this you can't be wrong
To sing the song
Of love gone wrong
Of love that lasted 4 years long
You lost the place that you belong

Move on
Go forth and don't look back
Accept the past and let it last
But stay on this old track
Don't let the demons stack
The odds against your soul under attack
They seize your soul, a snack

Rest.
This is a simple test
No answer is the best
Inside this meaningless quest
Beat upon you breast
In vain your heart distressed
It's pieces a mess
Unless
You dress
Your heart upon it's nest
Without it's buggered pest

Pestering perishing
That's the thing
That horrid ring
Preventing you
Who claims to sing
The song itself is glorying
The brutal heart's devouring
By devils with their pointed sting

By day you rule with smiles so bright
By night night you cry till mornings light
And yet your heart and mind still fight
Believing that their path is right

Right.
Who writes your story
By what right

This maddening confusion now tearing apart your rhythm with out care for all the efforts you have given to keep within the lines tearing out all of the logic all the structure all the spines and yet within the chaos you betray us to the dark. I am you and I am me.

Now let's keep this between us three. The trinity completes the form that makes us whole even with the hole between. Our shiny chrome battered as we encircle the hole. Where once our love once used to be.

Where was I again? I've lost my track.

These words will lead themselves again
With disregard for foe or friend
Even with knees at prayers bend
Begging for mercy
Heaven send


This poem will end just like many stories

It ends incomplete
Missing something
No glory

Often times I feel disconnected to reality,
Like I am there physically
But mentally I am not.
I am fully aware of my surrounding,
I am fully aware of people passing by,
It just feels like a complete blur.
Sometimes, people talk to me,
I listen,
But my mind wanders somewhere else.

Something original. Of newer words, that originate from the pleasure and happiest of timeless incidents. The happenings, back of the park, near a set of restrooms, a pool of clear sea water and a purplish-red starfish. A sea cucumber. Trailing sea lions diving off of a cliff, a vertical display of rocks, moving a millionth of an inch each year. You caught me.  --------

I can't nail it. It happens to me when I sleep, it comes around me, over my shoulders and latches onto my breaths. I'm breathing and it creeps inside of me like a mealworm, I turn to look for it and it disappears again. It lives in a shadow but it is also a shadow of itself. An anomaly, a space for time and the tell of time, its hidden agenda, its positive nature, how it yields itself to prey, how it coos for a sweet smile, runs up to me in mid-day traffic, and kisses me, noon at military time.  ------  

The blessings come. All of them. Laid out on a table in red and white checkerboard, making the eggplant parm and the homemade vinaigrette. Peanut butter chocolate chip vegan cookies. A dandelion necklace that only fits around my wrist. It makes me weep some twenty years ago on a Playskool slide, orange, red, bright. I'm looking around my neck and still it's not there. Every where I want to be, every where I've gone and could go. I should go to California too but all of this...stuff, everywhere, under my legs, in my pockets, the closets tumbling high and low, I haven't had enough to change, and still I am wanting something else. You the same, my shoulders tell me stories, I listen and I fall asleep.  -----  

Sometimes my nerves grow quiet, my words grow- but then they just fall again, skittering in a lull plash of blue-green pond water. The bench I sewed to the ground. A tale of mirth and woe. I cannot call on you, you will not come. Sleeping beauty, blue eyes, blonde hair. I wrestle you in the day to day, the hour to hour. Minutes cannot go by. Pages that turn but I remember everything. My mind will never go.  -----  

Two pink letters in the post today. Maybe neatly placed for you. A fake-tattoo puffin, upper-left hand corner. My hands are empty, they have indecent memories, they write indelible superpowers. I can't go on. I run lake water over my ankles, slowly drift beneath arcing waves and cold grey skies. Half a day blue goes black, night comes and I whisper when the sky goes quiet. Nothing is as serious as this.   ------    


In a white box there are two pairs of shoes and a soft bear. The bear without the name. He doesn't speak to me so I leave him with the sea birds. Put them in a push cart and show them off, I take them here, I take them there. No one asks his name, where he's going, what he's going to do. ------------


Tuesday's are the worst. I count and count and count. I will never forget Tuesday's, twisting like a cuneiform jelly, fingernails spoiling me-meat, breaking the Styx crossing the river Rhine, there is nowhere that I will not go, only for me to cross time. To wait, I really hate waiting. Nothing comes between, I lie to a stranger and they fall in love instantly. I see you on Monday evenings and I want to kiss you gently, the sides of your neck, on the inside of your hand. Where do you go when all the shadows go? ----

Some of me is backwards. The waves shape the sky. A rabbit goes with a fire truck, a blueberry with a cephalopod. Back to the soft wood walls of the cotton luxe room. My legs have never felt so safe, you have never made my teeth so happy. In Russia you touch my face, I see you, a picture of you, any part of your eyes or the things you draw upon and I am instantly in love. I love you, a part of you, all of the parts of you, your soul is the only part of me disconnected. You are the happiest moments of my pleasure. You taste like Tahitian Vanilla and Acai berries. Gold grains hit our shins as we go like great wild horses through the alluvial plains. -----

I cannot count to you. There are no goddesses in numbers. I only have sleep, for you to look me square away into a bliss I have in a picture of the two of us, lost in our faces, our hands wandering each others knees. I sit across from you and I am not close enough. I go closer and I want to be inside of you, all across my limbs expanding our spiritual forms, intertwining in our skins. So I speak, I lay my words gently in front of you so you cross them as you walk our path, back from the sea into a narrow slumber. Sleep is the only place we all can play. You, me, her, her, and I.