My toenails are metallic blue.
My feet are scrubbed and soft.
An older Asian woman with leathery skin
And crazy soft hands
has polished them to perfection.
She told me about eHarmony
Her ****-clothes
Her elderly boyfriend.
In an accent I could barely understand
She told me about her life.
She rubbed my calves with lime green
Exfoliants
And lotioned my legs
With cream-colored juice.
Her nails were French-tipped
And long.
She flicked off the excess polish with them.

She does this dozens of times a day.
Dozens of pairs of feet.
I wonder how many people have heard her story
And know about her rich boyfriend.
How many people have felt those soft hands
On their toes.
I wonder where else those hands have been
On her old boyfriend.

you're the same as I remembered you:
                                                            ­ eyes like daggers
                                               swim towards my barefeet
it's almost summer again: it's too hot to hold you, or
                                                              ­         anyone.
sighs about tomorrow: "you're just going to fall asleep again."
I avoid the mess and go straight for the spill: lips. eyes. brain.
you're the lipstick on my coffee cup, the smell of smoke after a house burns down.
she screams about the horses, the costumes, the memories:
                                                       ­                                         I tell her to be quiet.
"just shut your mouth! just shut your god ****** mouth!" and again,
                                                                ­                              "you're hideous" in a different way.
the anger moistened breath (shouting)
released her from the frenzy of being herself.  
                                                      ­                   standing in front of you, arms shaved and knees lotioned:
"thank you", from the voice of insanity,
signed on the back of a handmade book
with your name on it.                                                          exit­: left ear right ear left ear right ear left here.
Words like ghosts      they go straight     through her.
lack of empathy lack of mourning lack of desire lack of satisfaction
it all goes down the drain: in this house
                                          (clogged with hair [it doesn't matter who's, so don't ask]).
the boredom cries out (again) with freedom
                                                         ­            and instead we call it "relaxation".
(things we think
but we never think)                                  
to say: I lost the meaning of vacation counting license plates on the way to Texas.
(would bring back more than just the dead)
it would bring us                     back to dead,
and death would say
(something ringing in our ears) that we understand.
              that we understand the things we want to,
whatever they may be,
and then maybe:                   in death
                               we can find peace.

You painted your eyelids with green velvet and ruby red. The fractured mirror kept your insecurity at bay, as sparkle blue glitter poured all over your head from a little tin can.

We drove across the bridge, and through Shocko bottom, stopping at a nearly deserted parking lot sanctioned by an honor code. We double parked behind an Acura sedan, and waited as you snorted half a gram of Molly off your manicured fingernail into each
nostril.

You took in a deep breath, smoked a Parliament, and blew smoke out the
window. After ten minutes we shambled out of the car with our purses tucked under our armpits, and red fire dying in our eyes. When we reached the Hat Factory venue, the line disappeared from our view and we walked to the entrance where two bouncers were posted up. The tall giants marked our hands with black sharpie ink, drawing a large, bold “X” on each one.

Once inside the spacious warehouse, we ascended a white marble staircase and paid a ten dollar entry fee. Another doorman took out his marker and drew a red line, crossing through the dark black “X” that was drying on our hands. You broke off and away, going
straight to the bar. The bartender asked what you wanted to drink, and you requested water. She smiled and gave you a red solo cup filed with tap water and ice-cubes. After you thanked her, she handed you a bright pink glow stick that you wrapped around your forearm, fitting a figure 8 around your skin like a cloth sleeve.

On the stage was a young man dressed in neon colored plaid and skinny jeans. He climbed up a tall stepladder and jumped from the top, belly flopping on a beautiful African Queen bodacious gluteus Maximus, daggering deep into her soaking black spandex, the decadent bodies swimming on top of each other, stroking and staining the pink gymnastic mat with hot sweat and salt. A huge beach ball colored with red, white,
yellow, and blue pinwheel stripes sailed through the air over the balcony, smacking into a deathly thin model who was smoldering her Parliament cigarette into a clear glass
ashtray.

Mollywopped undergraduates gathered around circles where reggae artists harpooned inflatable black and white killer whales with thrift store bought switchblades.

Laying flat on his stomach was an Asian photographer snapping away with his Nikon digital SLR camera, pale hipsters in ***** black blazers and black fedoras hurling red and purple plastic assault rifles into the intense mass of worry-stricken college students carefree for the moment, gyrating and grinding to the womp-womp bass booming from rectangular speakers that squished in a disc jockey and his hardwood stand with his mixer and two turn tables. He scratched the needle along the worn edge of a battle-scarred vinyl record. His fingers zigzagged the sliders, pressed down on buttons, turned up the volume knobs.

Some hyper-maniac golden child bounced around the dance floor, sneaking up behind university sophomores mesmerized by the makeshift floodlights in the rafters blinking on and off. Conversations were made in the head, but never opened up when the girl approached. Stuck up super senior girls with heavy black mascara and matted eyelashes raised their eyebrows and swatted away ***** flies with a wave of their lotioned hand.

***** girls dress in high heels and septum piercing, their ear cartilage stabbed through by unclean metal. A rude person bumps into the Hyper-maniac golden child, causing the golden child to shove squarely into the rude person’s back. Name-calling ensues, threats fired and received, looks exchanged and bitterness rose over any other tension in the fuming room.

In the far right corner were a couple of kids making out; they’d just met.

Walking away from the fight, sidling between sweaty ugly people, the golden child swayed upstairs to the second floor, passed another bar and balcony tables, chairs, and dance platforms.
He went through a swinging door and joined a conversation between
a bunch of strangers. Wary around the golden boy, he starts practicing his standup Comedy routine, almost bombing on the first joke. Cheap jacks burned bright orange after a blue flame ignited the tapered paper end. Arms snared around the golden child’s body. Oh how nice! It was his friend from Modern Grammar class, he used to sit next to
her in the second row and copied homework answers from the blackboard with her.
She was happy.
And he was happy.

I have reached the end
I am at last triumphant

I am pedigree of pious desire and knowledge eternally sacred
I have welcomed the pilgrims
I have guided their yearning will
To the celestial comforts of feathers’ yellows and sanctity’s whites
Whites white as my waving robe and now my thin white gown
In which I await my appointed time

My tongue is wriggling
Circling across my gums
In sensuous reveling of my life’s most blessed and greatest times
For I have laid eyes upon the glory of life’s highest gifts
For I have laid hands upon the most succulent succubus fertile hips
And I have supped of *****’s glisten
I swam in Bacchus’s wines
I have recited doctrines of worship
I worshipped saliva’s shine
And I have observed communion
I drank it with ***** dust
I have read the hatha yoga
**** as the first man forged
And I have anointed blossoming ******* beneath the holy sigil

Sputtering laughter
Only trottel bows in truth and believes I dispense
A cleansing and redeeming eternal salvation
Have you no eyes to see my body’s common human shape?
Do you think I’m fat from God’s great love?
I cackle in the presence of such unwieldy weakness

Although my bones are sagging
More sagging is my wrinkled brain!
My memories are mating and birthing strange chimerical forms
They’re flooding and blending
Into vivid dreamlike collage
I see the faces of children I’ve taught
Atop necks of ****** I’ve known

The cheap locations of ****** have grafted with the echoing halls of cathedrals
Bizarre lights of nightclub glow are dancing upon spiritual texts
I hear an angelic litany
Sung through a stripper’s lips
I feel sheep’s wool
In the tousled hair of my boyish youth
I taste sweat in the bread of religion’s stoic privation

My air is growing more ragged
With every pitiful inhale I take
I feel light although I still see my heavy gluttonous flesh
My spirit is peeling away  
Beyond my body’s earth
Arising high above from mortality’s curse

I am ascending into the holy realm
A realm with gates inviting
Like opened lotioned legs

I can see my own corpse
Surrounded by genuine reverence
They don’t even notice the shot glass
Still clutched in my pasty fist

This was set to abide
The furtherness conversion of intimacy
As i climb to run off still ran into her
More appealing she received me
Her kindness tringered me off for it turned into a burden of politeness
Measure your audocity coward of infridgent
Your bad luck set a blaze by her portion of devine touch
Thy actions melted my eager, now a baby lotioned by her love
"Who can pretend to eat yet they swallow what they eateth"
Am made a lazy born of her works as she pampers me better than born ninjer
The more i roar the closer she comes taming my canine to smiles than bites.
As my heart skips beats, i decend.
A wave humour carries me
I scorch more than the sun does
A rover of salute to the eyes that i encounter
First enough i close my eyes cant hold to the flash from her eyes
Then i knew am doomed, her beam is my way of focus i stand by thee for flies
Am banned from worries all under her palms
Tension nor obstruct am stiffly aliegned

Once again
Word binge
Trying to think of some verbal fringe.
Hope I can bring about some wit
Maybe some confessions I'll actually admit.
Perhaps I'll write 4 poems in a row
Have a temper tantrum to throw.
Try to portray someone that I wish to be
Take pride in the fact that I'm being insane but responsibly.
Try to compete with someone who knows more words than I
Anything to move along this sleepless night.
Sit awhile and stare upwards
Talking to myself until it gets awkward.
Give self advice to which I'll never listen
Try to figure out if I really am a Christian.
Pine and whine and rhyme and cry
Comfort myself by writing lies
Delete it all or reconsider?
Does it help or does it matter?
Feel the butterfly under my pillow
My Smith and Wesson blade it's bed fellow.
Alone in what I thought was shared
My wedding bed feeling bare.
Attempting to practice myself as less impared.
Thinking of ways to improve my snare.
Cradle me through
With words and truth.
You don't need to touch me
Just give me proof.
That I'm not alone
In four walls, boxed
While occasionally getting up
To recheck the locks.
Lots of crime down the block
And it's stirring up the gentile folks.
To think all but 6 years shy
I was the one who they tried to lock out at night.
Being the one who went bump with delight.
Begging for the next big fight.
Domestication
My silent destruction
Made my calloused hands soft and lotioned
My scars now turned to thin lines of redemption
That the body survived
But the soul is still in incarceration.
Maybe if I turned my brain
Away from the gravitational strain
Of fighting to stay alive each day.
Most think that ease is easy
That kicking back makes life worth living.
I tried the kitchen and the big screen tv.
I gave a chance to indoor voices
I gave someone else my harder choices.
I let a paycheck define my courtship.
And now I'm soft and feel like horse ****.
Not all were meant for quiet lives.
Some can't just turn off the flame in their eyes.
Some can't forget the memories that deprives
Them of simplistic everyday joys of being alright.
And the price is to lay awake a night
Bickering with myself instead of carousing for a fight.
Knowing that I chose it all
Welcomed it with my arms all sprawled.
It's devistating to find out your *******.
Derping around and never intended
To listen to myself being regarded
With pity as they talk slowly
As if I'm cross eyed and hearing poorly.
By the grace of God I can wipe my own ***
I can feed myself and drink out of my own glass.
Never thought I'd live to see the day
To look so young and feel so middle aged.
******* rants
Letting my fingers dance
On letters with smug little prances.
Title it for me
I won't sue
I'm sure I've probably titled you too.

She is beautiful as she tumbles into my house
her glossy toned lips purse on my cheek
and leave the pink shimmer behind
she slips off her broken converse and shows her soft bare feet
her small toes are a soft pink shade
she slips her small lotioned hand into mine and softly tugs me forward
her pale blonde hair rests lightly on her exposed pale shoulders
it falls off into a straight line down her neck and back
her flawless skin shines in the light from the window
her skin is warm to the touch
she whispers almost, her voice so quiet and smooth in the air
come here she urges me and i follow her
her voice barely reaches me yet echoes through all my mind
she whispers strongly now and with so much purpose
her hand takes mine to press against her cheek I love you
her coo makes me melt into her
she slips my hand down her neck to her chest
her heart flutters under my palm yours she explains
she smiles at my intake of breath and I see her eyes threw brown lashes
the blue brings a sudden calmness to my mind and chest
she moves my hand again though I miss her hearts warmth
we travel downward and she tucks the tips of my fingers in the band of her shorts
yours she explains again and our faces are both in pink heat
her back arches inwards as I touch the small of it and we embrace
her plush lips meet mine in heat and her warmth bounds through me

This was set to abide
The furtherness conversion of intimacy
As i climb to run off still ran into her
More appealing she received me
Her kindness tringered me off for it turned into a burden of politeness
Measure your audocity coward of infridgent
Your bad luck set a blaze by her portion of devine touch
Thy actions melted my eager, now a baby lotioned by her love
"Who can pretend to eat yet they swallow what they eateth"
Am made a lazy born of her works as she pampers me better than born ninjer
The more i roar the closer she comes taming my canine to smiles than bites.
As my heart skips beats, i decend.
A wave humour carries me
I scorch more than the sun does
A rover of salute to the eyes that i encounter
First enough i close my eyes cant hold to the flash from her eyes
Then i knew am doomed, her beam is my way of focus i stand by thee for flies
Am banned from worries all under her palms
Tension nor obstruct am stiffly aliegned

Summer Alliteration

She brought sunrise stars
and sandy slippers
Scented air
of smiles and ***

Her sundress breeze
blooming to reveal
brilliant and beat tattoos
hidden bikini bliss

Tan tone lovely
lotioned touch
Random roadtrips round
Water and the way

Beautiful bright beaches
dazzle our days
Bright moon battles
shimmering sparkle shores

Holding hands
on the path and at the pool
Party on the patio
backyard barbeque beckons

Children chasing
Lightning bugs and lemonade
Playing in the park
parents on the porch

Blessed Solstice storms
stolen September morns
baseball broadcasts while
sparrow and starlings serenade

Carnivals and cotton candy
piled pink
sweet sticky sugar
sunsets shine

Halter-top halos
and bike ride breakfasts
Fuel firework fun
and pinwheel popcorn parades

Late and lazy afternoons
in white linen love
She brought Summer with her
And she shared it with me

I have been looking for so long for my other half,
searching in the most unlikely corners of the earth for them.
I have met an immeasurable amount of people and questioned every single one to **** them down.
I've written unlikely narratives, forcing them to fit,
and gone against my own standards and sanity to complete this puzzle.
But today
I showered myself.
I thought and ate and spoke
and braided my own hair
and lotioned my own skin.
There is no other half.
I am whole and I am one.

I am not a fraction of a human being

Open my legs
for your barnacle
i am fodder and fertilizer
darting about
'til you're asleep lotioned