i fall in love with everyone
and my lips are never chapped
  so now i eat cinnamon toast
   and i paint the sun
    with blackberry juice

It's raining outside...
with drops of a different kind,
tarred with morality and sin.
I can feel it, but not on my skin
it melts, like mired paper snow,
eyes brim with flakes of commas, ellipses, and unblinked zeugmas
that they thought I'd never know

But I absorb every drop-
every antidote, every toxic remark
they eat away at my soft and white
cancerous to gently marrowed bones
yet I long for the slipping
of soft yellow butter on flaky warmed toast
simply resting onto the surface, eternally

I was raised on the shelf
Of a white bread world;
No marbled rye
Or whole wheat served.
Just plain white loaves,
All crusty and cold.
But my tastes matured
With tea and buttered toast.

Toast
Such a beautiful taste
So crunchy
So tasteless
Toast
Such a beautiful word
So bland
So bleh
Toast such a beautiful thing

Smokes and cigarette cartons all about the place.
Empty milk bottles and their stench brings back the taste.
My hell in the sky, bring my body back home to come and play.
Mommy, are you busy dying, I'm a little hungry today.

Sadistic little me, fancy sitting on a chair.
Crazy big you with the damp and messy hair.
Will you give me your attention, I can't make out your expression,
Over there?
I love you, please light up so I can sit and
Stare.

Kick down the door, it's gotten much harder to keep our spirits up.
I can tell that after this evening your a little down on feeding us.
You can't stand to see yourself and I treated here this way.
Could you tell me where you hid my toys, I'm a little bored today.

But it's hot outside.
and your skins turned pale.
He's off at work after beating you this morning and freshly out of jail.
Bruises clout your eyes as I remember everything.
We've been in this house since I can't remember when.

And I remember. I remember it all.
I remember when the bloodstains pooled and stained our kitchen floor.
I remember when your screams crept in and ran about the room.
I remember peeking through the doorway to see what had happened to you.

I remember.
I remember where we stand.
And I remember to this day, taking you there, hand in hand.
My other hand on my bottle, yours covering your face.
I remember those little words that i had spoke to you that day.

"Mom, the toast is done."

And like that, it all fell into a dream.
Life began to course that way into a ****** seem.
He walked out and you fell to the ground without much to say.
They came to the house and took me far and far away.
Life had then forgotten you and broke into your house.
He shot you without prerogative and let you bleed out.
Oh mother, answer me how can anyone get through this pain.
You lived another day just to take leave anyway.
You broke down.
In tears when you saw me again.
I put to you that I would always love you to the end.
It was 8 years later from when the toast had finished cooking that day.
You took to the bed at dinner, and your bible to go and pray.
And I felt your embrace smother me with warmth through out.
You were skint with your money and very prone when angry to shout.
Only fair to say I could see you crumble a little more each day.
Till the funny farm took you in and drugged your ****** mind astray.

Now I pray, only to myself.
That I won't leave your love at the doorstep and take it without doubt.
You may be more damaged heartland that failed to believe.
I find it difficult to find inside a heart for me.

And we broke out.
We broke into a fight.
Every word  I punctured further into you as the moon into the night.
I should have kept going I should have broke your spirit down.
I never should have pity for that heart you swing about.
Now I have a brother who was in the position I was in.
Now your bruised and he's telling you to be sure make for him.

"Mom, the toast is done."

I moved to give a toast, to you and your extravagance, and I could tell you didn't understand.
So now I'll explain just what I meant and why I am thankful that you gave me a chance.
Every day you exist with the wonder that drives you, living a life that I get to see.
So I intend to raise a toast, and with these lips take a drink, because you've always been there for me.
No matter what changes, where we move or where we go, it's no question that you'll always be there
I can't express what it means that you've been in my life creating memories that we all get to share.
So, I hope it's a bit clearer, now that I've explained, why I see you just as the person you are
Now, let's take a drink, here's a toast and a clink to you and all the memories so far.

Carla said we must talk about love.
If it doesn’t define, it doesn’t exist, she said,
And pulled the two nearest stools away from the bar.

Has anyone you have ever known- anyone-
Ever offered you even a pitiful explanation
Of this bewildering word
She asked me,
In that way she has
Of not asking me at all.

She lit her pipe,
Her first exhale a ceremonial cloud,
A white tobacco fog,
A linger that purchased my childhood memories,
The pungency of three fingers of scotch, neat, at dawn,
The south face picture window ablaze with
The painful flood of an early sun,
A tin can stereo in full lament about cowboy love
And the inevitability of betrayal,
My father off key,
All his memories a libel and a calumny.

If I say I lust for you, you know what I mean, Carla said,
If I question your loyalty there is no obfuscation,
If I tell you in my sleepy voice the wine is delicious,
You are tempted to sample,
But if a man tells a woman he loves her
What conclusions will she abide,
Carla asked me with a stare.

Do you even know anyone who can utter the words I love you,
Without feelings of hysteria, near mental collapse,
Or worse-farce, she asked.

We tell people we love them to calm them,
To manipulate them,
To play magic tricks on them, Carla said,  
Love is an adolescent stage,
A toxic teenage mix and of oestrogen and testosterone,
Romeo and Juliet were children for ***** sakes, Carla said,  
As she drank half of her breakfast scotch,
And began to blow perfect smoke rings
In the mirror still stale air
Of the Rock Hen all day, all night, all the time bar.

I just know I love my dog, I replied,
And I held my finger up,
To see if Carla could circle it perfectly with a smoke ring,
Which she did.

And I don’t even know why, I said,
I guess I love how he needs me and doesn’t resent it,
Even as I disappoint him and neglect him,
Forget to feed him, force him to *** in the rain,
He still wags his appreciation with gusto.

Perhaps we can only love our dogs,
Carla replied,
Or perhaps we should all have tails,
And she ordered us lemonade and tequila
With scrambled eggs, french toast and a *** of blueberries.

This world is dark wherein I roam,
often voiceless and all alone.
These things you think I cannot hear,
rest assured they're perfectly clear.

You see my friend there's something amiss,
and it's not unlike that very first kiss.
The event horizon breached by a meeting,
the most delightful of all the possible greetings.

Drifting and wading amongst so many souls,
aimlessly doubting they share the same goals.
Lamenting their woes and playing the fool,
never keeping in mind the golden rule.

It's in your nature to feel somewhat needed,
to serve a purpose many have pleaded.
To know that your death might bring them sorrow,
to know that sadness would visit their morrow.

Still though you stand there out in the rain,
thinking no others could know your pain.
Feeling alone and misunderstood,
I cannot help you I wish I could.

It is our tasks to wander this earth,
hoping and praying that time will give birth.
To a realization or an epiphany,
of knowing you are more than what you see.

The journey can **** and be rather daunting,
the spectre of loneliness forever haunting.
Fret not my friend upon looking you'll see,
there's to be no sorrow your will is free.

To love who you want with reckless abandon,
you may happen upon the right companion.
Someone who carest to ask about you,
to know of your fears or the size of your shoe.

Moments show up like scenes in a play,
some last for a while and some just a day.
Hold tight these firsts they may be your last,
before you join me as another outcast.