I rummaged through the cabinets
opening and closing
the cupboard doors,
sliding plates aside
and lifting up each coffee mug.

then, I checked underneath the sink
moving the cleaning supplies out of my way
when finally she asked,

“what are you looking for?”

“a girl who doesn’t think I’m ugly,” I replied,
“it seems to be impossible to find.”

she stood there silent.

it was the first 5 seconds of peace I’ve had
since I broke it off with the last one.

after that, I double-checked the oven
for good measurement,
found nothing
walked out of the kitchen
and back into my rumpus room
where I give up my endless search.

I choose my battles wisely
I choose my words carefully
I know when to retreat
I know when to be quiet
and my silence says everything
but it’s her lack of understanding
that will not listen yet she continues on
as all sense and logic goes out the window
I watch the lips move frantically
I watch the chin quiver like an earthquake
I watch the inferno eyes flare up wildly
as sour tears roll down sullen cheeks
I remain unresponsive and copacetic
which drives her into total madness
more and more she continues on
as my nerves grind down to sulfur
and my worth gets skinned alive
she has stripped away everything of mine:
happiness, joy, dignity
there’s nothing more for me to do here
but sit and wait in my own mind.
I wait for the energy to deplete
I wait for the useless rancor
and rage to die down
I wait for the flustered face
to release the stress and fear.
better days will come, this I’m sure of
but not right now, right now I’m thinking about picking up my daughter from trick
or treating while she slams doors and hyperventilates over things
I couldn’t quite possibly
comprehend.

go home to your big house
sleep in your big bed
next to your big wife
and wait for the big sun to rise.

then get in your big pickup truck
and use your big bumper to
plow through big traffic jams;

sittin’ up tall, lookin’ intimidating,
feelin’ indestructible and wavin’
your big American flag proudly.

then park just outside the big yellow lines
taking up two parking spaces and return
to your big job
at your big desk
with your big title
making your big executive decisions
as those petty words come frothing
from your big mouth.

then sit at your big table,
up in your big high chair
with your big fork and big knife
and feast upon your big dinner
of other people’s shortcomings,

afterwards, place your big belly
upon your wife’s big ***
and put your big boy member
into her big gaping hole
towards the heavens
stroking your big ego
up and down
back and forth
in and out

feeling bigger than the sky
looking bigger than the ocean
sounding bigger than the sirens of hell

broadening that big imagination
inside your big deluded brain;

you’ve defeated the champions of perfection
you’ve dethroned the delusional king
you’ve won against no competition

the greeting cards,
the love letters,
the blessings,
the yes sir’s,
the no sir’s,
the thank you sir’s
were all said to warm your tiny heart
but said
without meaning
from the big heart of another.

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

I hide my behavior
to keep you safe.

I keep quiet
not to offend you.

I agree with you
to keep you happy.

I walk on eggshells
for you and
it’s never enough.

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;

jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl

and
you’ll be long gone
after seeing what
a ghastly beast
I am

but for now

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

to keep us
together.

words that hang like shutters
from broken hinges.

words that hover like nurses
after surgery.

words that splatter like
thin remorse.

I heave with sickness
when they arrive.

I spring with ebullience
when they leave the ** dunk
parts of my mind.

these words
these ******* words
that show up in Pontiacs,
in Plymouths, in Pintos

these nonsensical,
satirical,
antiquated words.

they charge at you
like a dead bovine
swinging from a meat hook.

they crawl towards you
like a silverfish
out of the sink drain.

they creep up on you
like an old ***
rattling a change cup.

why? I ask myself.

why does this happen?

I don’t want this kind of ailment;
give me
bee stings
or bedsores
or steam burns
but not these words,

these words that linger like shingles
across the ribcage of burning torment.

I pray without ceasing
towards a signified God.

I pray for simple sacrifice;

I want suicide rather than poetry.
I want a cow without milk.
I want a statue without structure.
I want a woman without grace.

I can feel the floodgates opening soon
and I think I’m going to puke my guts
out all over this page again.

smoking a bag full of memories
over the flame of your past
you get high on a girl
you no longer love
but can’t stop thinking about
and there’s nothing you can do
to change the way it went down,
only imagine what could’ve been
if you’d done things a bit differently
which somehow hurts more yet makes
you chuckle on the inside
and now’s she’s out there
with other people,
in other places,
doing other things
that don’t involve you
while you sulk in the corner
with the useless bottle,
the useless tears
and the useless fantasies
that you’ve never lived in.
I say relax kid,
if you look back on the entirety of yourself,
you’ve made it through drug overdoses,
car crashes, untruthful rumors, utter loneliness,
suicide attempts and the impeccable timing of bad luck
I’m fairly certain you’ll make it through this too,
it’s only heartbreak.

all those doughy-eyed, snot-nosed, putty-cheeked, frog-mouthed, bull-headed, cowardice faces: they were born
without sorrow
until they hand over their lives
to someone they truly don’t know
and they do it with a smile
and a gleam in their eye
and then they get sandpapered down
and polished in something
they did not choose,
their freedoms get capsized and
they don’t know what they’ve done
or why they’ve done it.
they become enraged and frustrated
with themselves
but they do not know where
to project their anger.
they can’t do it at home.
they’re too afraid of what they might
lose: their own self-made agony
so they take it to work with them
or to the supermarket or to the restaurant
and aim at anyone over any little thing.
they can’t do it at home.
those poor deluded fools careening towards
the only elusive dream that matters: happiness.
some of them are regretting decisions,
some of them are stewing on mistakes,
some of them are plotting their escape
all that sacrifice, all that pap
all those easy words
whistling like stream;
“I love you.”
“I miss you.”
“I want you.”
“I need you.”
all of it: for nothing
all those droopy, sullen-glared, turkey-necked, warthog faces everywhere;
laying in cold beds, coddling empty blankets,
****** in sorrow, contemplating the error of their ways,
alone with themselves, alone with each other.