Sorry -
needed another fix.
Yeah, I got it,
but I'll leave it broken this time.
**** hits different,
more fleeting,
less potent.
I swear the hangover will **** me,
a karmic death I'd welcome.
I'll cut myself off,
at least try,
so you don't have to.

and there she is

widows-thrill
or devil's backbone,
some sort of specimen
hog-tied to the sediment

combs her hand
with nails bit past the quick
through her hair
til she thinks there's not one incongruent strand

dragging her feet
down the primrose path
off on the hard way into heaven

I know I'm good for something
I just haven't found it yet

And just like that,
a sweeping fear came raging in.
Mortality at risk again,
morality might slip again.
Fill me up,
I'm empty.
Distract me please,
I'm desperate.

Miles apart but we meet at night,
blushing bodies,
bare and brave.
Don't stay too long,
don't leave too soon.

Raging inside,
a wasted energy,
a wasted brain.
I wanted to cling,
but I drained instead.
No ink, no paper,
it's all **** anyway.
I thought sadness bred creativity,
and anger was productive,
but I only lost potential.

I've caught a rash
of tomato lines
and plum accents

an itching
from teeth grinning
i can't trust

an elaboration
of swelling certainty
set aside mumbling

bubbling thoughts
in a light tea
no straw

gulping it down
pushing cubes
aside