Did you ever hear about ******* Lil?
She lived in ******* town on ******* hill,
She had a ******* dog and a ******* cat,
They fought all night with a ******* rat.

She had ******* hair on her ******* head.
She had a ******* dress that was poppy red:
She wore a snowbird hat and sleigh-riding clothes,
On her coat she wore a crimson, ******* rose.

Big gold chariots on the Milky Way,
Snakes and elephants silver and gray.
Oh the ******* blues they make me sad,
Oh the ******* blues make me feel bad.

Lil went to a snow party one cold night,
And the way she sniffed was sure a fright.
There was Hophead Mag with ***** Slim,
Kankakee Liz and Yen Shee Jim.

There was Morphine Sue and the Poppy Face Kid,
Climbed up snow ladders and down they skid;
There was the Stepladder Kit, a good six feet,
And the Sleigh-riding Sister who were hard to beat.

Along in the morning about half past three
They were all lit up like a Christmas tree;
Lil got home and started for bed,
Took another sniff and it knocked her dead.

They laid her out in her ******* clothes:
She wore a snowbird hat with a crimson rose;
On her headstone you’ll find this refrain:
She died as she lived, sniffing *******

When I met you for the first time, I thought your eyes were the biggest I’d ever seen
And I ignored my usual dislike of mouths as large as yours,
Reasoning that it should be so wide to accommodate the smiles you always wore.
At lunch, you quoted Mia Wallace and I should have known then to run.
Instead, I asked you about New York.
Your food got cold because you talked for so long.
I was silent and full.
Driving you back home, I told you my first lie when you asked if I was an atheist.  
We had *** in your bathroom the next day.
I watched movies you liked.
I told you my second lie when I pretended to cry at the end of Elizabethtown
We had *** again that night.
Roughly.
I told you I would move back to New York with you in the fall.
Another lie.
Another ******.
Lying to you came naturally and so I did it often.
It makes sense, then, that the whole affair would end with a lie.
New York wasn’t the problem.
You were.

the memories form a lump in my throat,
the nostalgia - a hard pill to swallow
4 months since you ripped my mouth off your hook and i'm still trying to find my voice to speak
i tell myself its time to write something
write anything, just let it be something

Crowd’s a buzzin’
But it’s just you and me
Nobody knows us,
It’s easy to be

A name to a face,
You’re still just a 'who'
But put us together,
And see? That makes two

Powder room princess,
In veils of smoke
Rugged old gangster,
We’re sharing a ****

Onto the floor,
A dance and a sway
Silly and sultry,
We’re flying away

Made it back home,
To finish the night
Music is playing,
You slip out of sight

Hand grazes powder
A most wonderful find
Nose-deep in snow -- Help!
I think I’m going blind.

I feel the heat and irregular heartbeat wash over me. The widen of my eyes and my bodies surprise at something that feel so good makes me so low. You lift me up and make me lower than a dog in a ditch. I come back for your addiction,  and cuddle the affliction. I skip around the room on you,  ignoring my impending doom. Making friends with the sober introverts in the room. You embarrass me, but my veins and blood are too blind to see, and my voice too scared to speak. Inhaling you slowly, with my eyes closed in pleasure only a woman truly embracing her demons can feel. You're what's real,  you're all I feel. My heel. And as I start to come down looking for a card or razor I remember that I'm a ******* mess in a ***** dress, nothing more than a hidden bore with an addict's appeal

the self seeking*
white powder man
came
to consume her life
snorting
the only love
who'd ever embrace
a loneliness so rife

the relationship
destructive
to the soul
it propped her up
and took all control

an emptiness
he bought
a hollowness
in every facet
of his giving
the feeling of the muted line
so flippantly cold

she tossed away
the truer man's
caring
for a ******* frequency
incapable of love's
empathetic
*heart

White powder on an iPhone case
Black coffee to mask the taste
Rolled bills against my face
Usually no one keeps pace

Sometimes I believe I've gone insane.
My allies made over a pile of *******.
Veins burning awaiting more.
Eyes sore, but my feet seem to slide over the floor.

Heart pounding, nerves firing.
Tiring, not exhausting.
A workout for the burnout.
I have few hopes as to what I’ll turn out.

Only a mind away.
Numb, but alive.
I only feel what I'm prescribed
I’ll press on, needle to a record.

**** that.
I’m digital, my ideas, critical.
I’ll wake up each day with an eye for new breath.
I’ll keep moving forward, alone or in union, i’ve got a plan, and I’m gonna seek it.
Brick by brick, my world, I’ll build it.