slap the box and
call me poison-us-
with fight songs,
not our trees.
The leaves fall
halo-like the root
ground angels that
they are.
Thats something
im gonna say I remember
tires, pavement and small
wet kisses.
Tired, paying and seams
of brain, hitting the floor
dancing. Dancing.
Dance, prance, stamped
on the back of my neck,
nicknamed. Self-proclaimed.
And,
I probably wont remember your name.
The game is in the tough turf,
rough birds, reads yellow on
red, branded
Crimson at birth.
I heard it the first time…
Denny Chimes. I got
soul,
but I am not sold, here.
You no arts kid.
You ***** breathed skid.
You ******* no color bid.
You wise eyed pig.
coonass roux grit rig.
pompous junk drunk jig.
keg king fit for fear fig.
God is in the pavement,
and the Bible is on my belt.
And I cant STAND the fact that
you need help.
roundin up the wheels
of my drinks in hand
till the cows don't come home.
I dont want to be alone,
sing till the loam becomes sand.
And its quick,
to fall far from plan.
You're skinny and you misstep,
but I kept the ideas on head,
not a.
I walked down that sidewalk,
liked I owned the place.
And I did,
when I was not the case…
I screamed at your window,
a few months later.
I hope you heard me.
I DONT CARE IF YOU’RE A STAR!
did you hear me?
My skin may bubble,
but its not allowed to scar.
And it doesnt
because I said so.
If I could go back,
I would heal from you.
Blue.
Loves in
two,
more
than
two…
less than two.
One.
One decision I did not make,
changed my fate.
a date.
Now labeled and baited.
again and again
and again.
Tell me of my sins.
I wanna smash that
bullet between your ears.
Its been jamming around for years.
You wanna root my fears
in what is up here, perhaps
appears
before mirrors.
shards halfway into you,
we broke through and became one.
Tears, terrors,
and pinkie swearers before God
(waittryitagainImeanit)
BEFORE GOD…
I love you.
Above all,
I adore you.
implore you,
to see this,
in true
living
lovers.
Count my confessions
one
two
three
its too many to say
what I ran from,
but,
I can name the cracks
in the concrete
four
five
six
I didn't pick up any
thick licks of honey
ringing the horns that
sounded the years
of long bad ticks.
I don’t have
any
new tricks
seven
eight
nine
im fine
ten
and I've hurt you again.
Thats a lie and I just might win.
sly over there, a violin of concocted *** coils
of Cmon— let me hear that again.
Your songs are lucid and the spit is acid.
Thats why I became his main assettttttttttttttt
tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
t t talk is cheap
but my body is cheaper…
You looked at me that way,
spinning my hay for whats its worth
and at least
you fed it to your horses.
everything runs its courses,
the forces
carry my wheels packed with my life
in a bag.
Jet lagged from flights to hell
and back-packed ready
to see my God in the pavements— away close to home
with the Bible on my belt.
I felt
the tilted welt
split its rock
and crumble tumble down my throat
into my gullet
swift like velvet, memories tell it…
That my fiction is now Non,
and the friction is gone—down the road
with me.
been awhile, good to be back.