I wanted you to hit me, baby.
I wanted to fall to the floor and
                   think, numb, that this
                                     wasn't how
          it was meant to be.
I wanted to hear your skin
                   on mine,
         one more time
                                 before we die.
      I wanted to think that
you were a mistake, that
             I could have done so much
                                         better
                                              but you know
                                      and we both know
that's a **** lie.

      I had a list of platitudes
ready for the day that you
                     gave in, and I could
                               finally let go.
            Ours is a ferocious tenderness,
                        one that relies on
     your (brute) force
            and my twisted dreams
                                    of reddened skin
and bloodied knuckles.
        I wanted you to hit me, baby.
    See, I'd already forgiven you
but there's nothing between us
              save our lips
              save our bodies pressed
                         flush, one encompassing
                    the other,
              save the ice in your eyes
                                 and the typhoon in my
                        chest
                               that I think might be
                                              my heart.

              Save his soul, o my God.
        Bring him home and I
                            shall follow,
           with iron in my lungs (how do I
                     breathe
                                       alone?)
                and steel in my throat.

****, I wanted you to hit me.

I’m praying for Pangaea so I can run to the ends of the earth for you. Mixed signals are cancerous so I swallow yours down to keep you safe. Sure, souls like fire in my bloodstream burn on the way out but they’re streaming for you into this chest cavity missing a heart, my own Judas, betrayed me for your eyes. Even saints can be lost causes, darling, but you’re neither. You’re a superhero, all technicolour capes and dollar-store disguises and you’d think I’m the damsel in distress but I’m your nemesis. Why else do you think I’m burning Earth to the ground, for my own perverse enjoyment? I’m pulling your hair, putting tacks on your seat because I’m too afraid to say I love you, which is a truth, which is a bomb to defuse before our bed becomes ground zero. I laugh at your jokes and offer myself up for slaughter but you’re not biting so I’m walking home in the snow, alone. I’m cold, I’m frozen. I’ve gone home to a Heaven of ice, heads in the freezer like a good luck charm, your words carved into my palms so I won’t forget. Back to the lab, back to the drawing board. Maybe I’ll close the warplans for tonight.
I know you belong to her but I’m jealous, baby, I’m so jealous. I’ll tell you to bow down, defer, sing a hallelujah to lull me to sleep before I remember how much it hurts to love you. And tomorrow when you’re gone I’ll plan death: hell, maybe the world’s. You might love me then. I’m not too hopeful.

sitting in the ****** sunlight
pondering **** Jagger
and who’ll inherit his lips when he dies.
smoke chains from my mouth and
Motown comes to mind.
What I Got is a pregnant cat
with cautious green eyes.
what i think i’ll do is wait,
but when will i stop?

i’ve read my calendars
birthed my charts
and i still can’t decide.

wind blows up my shirt
school buses scream by.
Hey, Children, Hi.

my nicoteen teeth burp
and i’m pushing out a cigarette
heading back inside.