i stay up hours after you
so i don’t have to listen to you breathe
very long
after i lay down

i’m frustrated
with you
and the way you move your mouth
and
your skin, your crawling flesh
one-track mountain-******* mind

i stay up late and listen
listen to the coyotes howl in the distance
and i realize i love it here
and i realize i hate it here

you stained my room
with your scent of ***** clothes
and you’ll be leaving soon

and all I’ll have left is
the smell if filthy socks

and you don’t care anymore.

Stu-stu-stuttering
Under those beautiful shadows
Near edgar street
Halloween, light lamps
pumpkins
Sh-sh-shaking hands
You looked so
broken
shattered

"You haven't been yourself lately."
"Well maybe I have."
"No no no this isn't you."
"Maybe it is, maybe im just sick of pretending."
-"Have you been eating?
When's the last time you had a goodnight's sleep?"
"Why does it matter..."

I wanted to remember how the light illuminated your cheekbones
But made those shadows under your eyes darker
They seemed to taunt your face
Dancing around producing fearful images
I was surprised you were still awake
What a beautiful mess you looked...
What a beautiful mess you looked like

"Y-you-you think the world is a beautiful place dont you?"
"I think It can be." You looked haunted.
"Yeah, for those who sleep."

You are my back up
Stick to the plan
No matter what
You are Wendy
and I'm Peter Pan
After I throw myself from the fifth story window
Of some ***** apartment in China town
Wait for the cops and tell them who I am
Tell them that I was trying to go home
To never never land
But I ran out of happy thoughts
Before I took to the air
And when they pull up my sleeves
Pointing at my track marks with a ball point pen
you tell them that was from shooting fairy dust
Straight to my brain
when they ask about my wallet
Any cash or car keys
Tell them their with captain Hook
he stole em' from me
When they ask where I am from
Say I'm a lost boy
And that's all
no mom and dad or sisters
Only John, Micheal, and teddy
Tell them I was best friends with the Indians
and the beautiful mermaids
And when they ask who you are
You're Wendy Darling
The girl who told stories
And kept my head full of dreams

Creek
I call it a crick
when I was ten- no eleven

Maybe ten and a half

My dad worked as a mechanic....like I do now

I remeber he came home one day and kicked off his ***** workboots by the front door
His hands were always dirtier than a *******

He always had grease and dirt under his nails when he got home
and would run them under hot water and glo-jo like I do now

Them hands were COVERED in scars
....mine aren't that scarred yet
and I'm hoping they never will be

I got out of this town once and made it half way around the ******* planet

But I came back when aunt mary-lou died
the only thing I remember from that funeral
....the girl across from me was wearing a red thong
her name was Megan (I had a dog with that name once)
She was aunt mary-lou's friends **** *** stepdaughter

She had that look like
"I am way too good for this trailer park *******"
And I smiled and thought
"I know you are"

Well my dad came home
To find out that I had broken the bb gun he got when he was fourteen

And instead of yellin' at me
or beatin' me
he told me to go get him a beer
and he let me have a sip

I thought he was gonna tear me up and down like a red headed step-child
Or put his cigarette out on my palm

But he didn't
He just sat there
and still to this day I wonder why I didn't get the usual


Truth is:
when I came back from getting his beer on that fateful day
I thought I might have seen my dad wiping a tear from his cheek

I'm afraid of needles.
I'm tired of rubber sheets and tubes.
I'm tired of faces that I don't know
and now I think that death is starting.
Death starts like a dream,
full of objects and my sister's laughter.
We are young and we are walking
and picking wild blueberries.
all the way to Damariscotta.
Oh Susan, she cried.
you've stained your new waist.
Sweet taste --
my mouth so full
and the sweet blue running out
all the way to Damariscotta.
What are you doing? Leave me alone!
Can't you see I'm dreaming?
In a dream you are never eighty.

"Mom, I think in poetry."

Now she thinks I'm insane.

There's something deeply satisfying
In decimating a piece of runaway tissue
With a healthy jet of ****.

I stand towering above it
As it clings stealthily to the ceramics
And
      cackle
                as
                   I
                     reduce
                                 it
                                    to
                                        mush.

It bleeds yellow.
I feel no remorse.

Perhaps that's why
If the world were ruled by women
There'd be less war.

I miss you every ******* day

I try and force these **** thoughts away

But you shine right though in the most devious way

Like a web between two dead trees

It traps me and then and there I drop to my knees

I squirm to rip you; get the ******* me

But just like before; you release.



Then again, like a fierce breeze

You take away my concentration with vile ease

Over me; you flow along-happily on your trail

Leaving behind a stench of wickedness

Leaving me nothing but, frail.



Why won’t you just walk away?

Burn; like night to ******* day

Light a match; Fade away

Get this **** underway.

With Buddha tattooed on my neck,
I feel like I might finally have a vague understanding of serenity.

Submerge my worries in drunken logic and suddenly I am floating.
Unable to keep my feet on the ground,
I make a habit of leaving cupboards open.

With my drunken intentions,
I lay my head in your lap.
You twirl my curls in your fingers trying to wrap yourself within me.

You are a rotting romantic.

My mother once told me to “Love softly, for love is fragile.”
It was then I realized that my mother had never been in love.

Love is a backstabbing ***** with no morals.

Love is merciful.

Love is red.

Love is rage.

Love is quiet.

Love is not fragile.

Fragile,
is my hand in yours at the end of the night.
When we’re too ****** up to function on the verge of passing out,
and you give my fingers one final squeeze.

I fight the sleep that is inevitable.

I watch as you dream with your mouth shut tight.
I imagine words of affection fighting to break free,
begging to make love to my ears.