if every word i said could make you laugh i'd talk forever
the stereotypical lines don't work on your brilliance
your cold
my intellectual rain cloud
bringing me my favorite weather
not without the wet socks of course
it all hurts
the constant sunshine
my pale skin only wants your cumulonimbus touch
tracing my skin
your gentle raindrops
bring me to seattle
our future with no barriers
i rub my own back
replaying the memories in my head
my favorites
your regrets
i try to calm myself down
but only your shush will suppress the tears
only your sheetless bed will defeat the cold
only your presence will crowd the loneliness
i surrender
will i ever hit the bottom of this sad abyss?
can you pull me out?
i know you can
there i go again
answering my own questions
i'm not fixing anything
i'll just keep waiting
i'll just keep failing

Laying on a sheetless matress,
day-drinking until bottled spirit dry.
Loveless in a ghost's nest,
never believing I
could be something more,
something from a Christmas card.
Take the long neck, smash the body
and fantasize to the shard.

Empty boxes, hollow bones
Sheetless bed, silent phones

Bloodshot eyes, ***** pool
Reflection glass - a blinded fool

Heavy heart, desolate night
Cabinet's bare; turn out the light

Your possessions, all my things
Empty gas tank, shredded wings

Words of hurt, a pounding brain
Tensed up limbs, numbing pain

High-pitched whine, salty tears
Steely skies, vicious fears

Starkened silence, smack in the face
Mute the memories...or press erase

there is no button to press and hold
down
no slab of clay to abuse and mold
brown
the sky turned ash grey
frown
your scarlet lips did not object nor obey
hown
your fickle fingers crawling in my ears
hear
chasing after a sheetless bed of
tears

I just want to roll over and see you sleeping in a tight ball, relegated, sheetless and shivering, to the precipice of our too-small bed by my spread eagle slumber. I want to melt into the angles of your back and knees. Breathe in the cold skin between your shoulder blades. I want to wake you with selfish kisses. Feel you stir beneath my lips. You will rouse for just a moment. Only to pull me closer. But that will be enough and I will fall asleep again in the curve of your neck. I want to sleep like this. Entwined at the edge of our bed, about to fall, but holding on.

The scrape of thought--
like the scrape of skin
on the bare threads of a sheetless mattress.
Limbs, like the first lines of a journal,
******, new,
waiting for the scars and the stories that follow
as bodies move together,
so slowly as to atrophy.
Memories echo in the silence
light careening through the window,
and words we can't remember teasing our tongues.
I could have asked you so much, and so little.
These are the stories we tell our inner selves,
the half-truths we justify
and the lies we ignore.
The moments we relive until they are frayed
beyond memory,
beyond repair,
the quiet brush of hands
over a tattered blanket.