i feel wasted by hands that graced my body
that have handled me how no one else has touched me.
i live in guilt, ever pressing guilt
that i was used
in ways i did not understand
in ways that only a man can.
to feel discarded, like a body,
just a body, just a vessel,
of skin tied to skin
and when you looked within,
the dive left you weak,
you hesitated to swim.
now i’ve been wasted,
thrown upon the bed
of the truck that you once drove
that drove me off the edge.
when i contemplate too long,
i dream that i didn’t jump,
didn’t wash my body in the foamy sea spray.
i bathe in the guilt that splashes over my head,
ache for a lover that doesn’t regret me
like only a man can.

and when you touch someone
do you want to conquer them,
take them over, make them submit?
when you lay to sleep at night
knowing you are in your body,
do you ache to be someone else;
i wish you were someone else.
and when you choose your ego,
does it feel soft and sweet?
are you proud of yourself
when the darkness lingers slowly,
leaning over your bed frame?
when you lay still,
still as the city at night,
do you love who you’ve become?
i hate who you’ve become.

all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night
when no one
was looking
made the little
man within you
feel much, much,
much bigger
but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you.

it usually leaps like a swordfish out of the ocean
and I’m able to harpoon it,
but as of lately,
I’m stuck with pond ****
and the tuna on my bad breath.

it’s nowhere to be found;
not in the parks,
the libraries,
the liquor stores
nor the circuit clerk’s office,

I tried fishing it out of the swaps of
spitfire and melancholy
but found nothing

I tried to ****** it with an excessive
amount of trouble and *******
but found nothing

I tried scooping the guts out of myself
like a hollowed out pumpkin and
splattered it with a wet slap
against an old newspaper
but found nothing

there’s nothing here;
no spark,
no imagination,
no ingenuity

what I’m I suppose to do?

as I sit here petting the black
velvet fur of my dog,
my toes won’t stop curling,
my nails are bitten down to the nub
and the stink of aging soars past
like eagles on fire

I have nothing to write about:
no unpopular opinion
no peculiar viewpoint
no bludgeoning over
the banality of
extinction

the only logical thing to do is
head out to see some local
band at a Chicago bar and see
where the alcohol takes me

I need the ammunition
I need the fuel
I need to make
something happen

the hard days of labor have diminished me
through attrition and lack of euphemism
but for right now, no matter how
saturated I am of feeling and thought…

whether I’m
drunk on sleep,
salacious on vulgarity,
grieving with quills,
vacant of *****,
dreaming of gout,
reading Géza Csáth,
listening to Sass Dragons,
burrowing under empty houses
or fixing the plumbing for the woman down the hall.

I still
can’t
coax
the word
out.

I’m stuck in a loop
I have no way to escape
I don’t know what to do
In order to break the loop

I’m stuck in a loop
I can’t escape
I don’t know what to do
In order to break the loop

I’m stuck in a loop
When things seem to get better
I end up making them worse
I’m stuck in a loop

I can’t get better
I wish I could get better
I don’t know how to get better
How do I tell them?

How do I tell them that I still do it?
How do I tell them that I feel the need to do it
Whenever one set begins to leave
How do I explain that to them?

They need to know
They deserve to know
But I don’t know how to tell them
That I’m stuck in a loop

Reminisce — time flowing counterclockwise,
as future becomes present – past.
Tick, Tock, Tick –
stop;
silence.
All alone by oneself;
lost in a parade of open arms.
Deceiving; never meant for “our” reception.

i feel your absence  
like white lilies wilting  
in a forgotten vase  
unbrushed hair  
tangled in yesterday’s dreams  

names slip away  
like whispers in the wind  
each memory  
a fragile thread  
unraveling  

mother of the holy hands  
do you feel her touch  
in the spaces between us?  
trees whisper secrets  
the air thick with  
what once was  

unsure hands  
questioning eyes  
searching for answers  
in the echoes of silence  
where are your children?  

once greetings  
now good-byes  
water-soaked  
in a white cotton nightdress  
the fabric of our lives  
fraying at the edges  

yet we hold on  
to the flicker of warmth  
the pulse of love  
navigating this maze together  
finding our way home  
even in the dark

Do I choose to have the choice?
Do I put my reflection, at mercy of people I don't know
To discover once the same need in the eyes of another
Will I go round and round again?
Am I in it for the way, with no end to expect?
Or do I take a shield from the circle?
With your gaze, your arm on my shoulder, or your chest against mine,
.. with a promise that you withhold nothing for the next ten minutes?