In a haven of cotton and chiming clocks,
I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again, to talk of our troubles
that hang around like ghosts
in the back of an empty apartment.

You leave empty jars
scattered amongst the books
and unlikely photos that remove you
from the stiffling four walls
you’ve come to call home.

You dream of certain travel
in faraway lands where
they do not speak your tongue,
whilst your own, buzzes and breaks
like electric cables in a summer storm.

I have precisely one thousand questions,
and a hunger to know what haunts
you when you are left to your mind
and it’s scheming devices
but I find the back of your hand
too soft to think of anything but touching.

I taste your lips on the back of my neck,
not knowing whether my body trembles
because of the night’s intruding cold
or rather that I am anxious
for this velvet moment to last,
having never felt such tender thoughts

Your emerald eyes scream urgency,
and I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again to talk of our troubles

No, I let them come & go,
consistently riding that
endless wave of ephemerality.
Parade on in,
Provoke! Provoke!
I’ve got hours upon hours
to spend, delicately tracing
the hopes & hard-ons of young men.

By midnight, the cathartic compostion
is unravelling or rotting
& I’ve got my hand
down his pants,
hoping to call forth that
Saint-Lazarus sleeping at my core


Oh yes but how I do like you so,
said I, drowning in clouds
& flying through the bottoms of
sticky plastic cups
It wasn’t the truth
but God knows, I wasn’t lying

I would love to love you
I get utterly intoxicated
when you let me swallow your smile,
whilst you’re sleeping in my eyes.

It’s just that,
I only know to project my dreams
and lie awake,
melting beneath the cowardly heat.
Oh it lives on, the stiffling tension
of a fool with a thousand feelings
and a limited vocabulary.

Beware,
I must admit
there isn’t much beauty to be found
as I left my courage far behind,
in spring,
in a bedroom,
inside some other vacuole of desperation
and he fed it to the birds.

These days,
my declarations are dosed,
I keep my tongue on a leash
and my chest begets a cage.
I crawl inside my mind
and close many a door.

children should be seen
but not heard
have you ever
listened to something so absurd

how can we take away
their freedom to speak up
to grow up as adults
so they can be confident

taking away or stiffling
this precious souls voice
is an unconscious decision
and gives them no choice

no choice to learn
from making their own decision
to adjust their course
to practice in revisions

what a world this will be
when we all learn to speak our own truth
respecting each others beingness
and being connected to our roots

I was always one for subtelty
but this was almost too easy
Click went the locking mechanism
Shattering the lock
Almost too easy
As behind me it silently shuts
Follow your scent
Through the sterile halls
A pin drop
Security gaurd Mag light
Down a quiet dark corridor
I cover my mouth with my hand
To cover the laughter as i hide
Almost too easy
I FIND IT
The door opens
This is almost surreal
I feal the cold
My breath is a cloud
So quickly in and out
Stiffling laughter
My wide begging eyes
Jessica
I shake with anticipation
The cold habdle beneath my skin
The bag
The frost
Unzip
white flesh
red hair
blue lips
purple veins
i am at a loss
for words
as i stand above you frozen
Still with you
I will die here
warmth on your translucent skin
was it my finger
Or that of another
that traced the outline of your black lips
or the frozen glaciers of your hip bones

Suddenly a light behind me
The gaurd screams stop
I laugh hysterically
i can no longer hold in my euphoria
No one will take you from me again
not even the stone hands of your step-father
i scream wide eyed
With resolution
and speed that surpised even me
My fingers curl about the handle of a scalpel
Left so carelessly out on the counter
By the morticians assistant
on his first day
a bullet rips me through my shoulder
but i fear no pain
i am no coward for you
no fear as i close in beneath the white flourescnent lights
No one will seperate us again
the warmth of the spray
black puddle against the tile so white
Your eyelids flutter
as i watch my final breath condense befoere my eyes
A cloud
my final breath
I fall asleep at your side
Eternal

with so many people in the world
it feels in
*******
possible
that anyone can feel lonely
but somehow
in my bedroom
at eight
i sit in my bed
surrounded by undone chores
in two jackets
in stiffling heat
just to imagine
that there is someone else in bed beside me
and this **** is driving me
insane
because
i know it can't
be that hard
to find someone to
love-- or **** that
someone to give a ****
for an hour
even if
you're drunk and their tongue is in your tonsils
but they say i have a problem
discerning 'love' from 'lust'
i know it can't be that hard
but it feels
like i am
permanently
****** up
because all i want
is someone to rip the skin
off of my bottom lip
because when they leave the next day
the black-blue stains on my
skin will linger just a bit longer

I am aware that I'm toxic
It was never fair to believe that in life you just give and receive
Spending half a life as the novelty welcome mat on a rural truck stop.
Nobody ever stayed around, they were all on some journey.
A foot gets put down and occasionally people frown
as in you were never supposed to do that
as in you should be comfortable because people still at least say hi
When the greeter gets greeted they feel more or less defeated
Because everything is done the same daily, it's repeated
Crane that neck around, and see the stomps impeding
On all that sense of worth, that basket full of reassurance that was spread like pixie dust
Take all those coming forward with their not so friendly faces
Get off of the floor and go forward, get ready for the races
Stay down or drown in a pool full of that stiffling reality that just cannot be avoided.
Go toxic.

to blink
after such travesty
to watchtowers,
is like a single
slow moving crack
moving across an
iceberg, becoming
jagged in the tide–

she should
know better how to
control her flames,
not just feed
out of control, their
heights engulfing
her ceiling and walls,
stiffling–

to break free
humid restrictions
and agony, replaced
forest breath with
quartz of roses for eyes

Being with me won't be rainbows and sunny skies.
No, it'll be red clouds and acid rains.
It'll be crazy jealousy and looming shadows.
It'll be red, white anger and glaring silences.
It'll be overcompensating insecurities and stiffling possessiveness.

I know it'll be too much for you to bear
So do you still dare?

Now that you know being with me will be living in hell.

Utter silence pierced the night
The still stiffling endless obsidian night
Yet silence spoke true
And it rang loud in my soft ears
Calling to me
Taunting me with its sharp fingers
Its dark thoughts spun round and round
Wrapping me up in it cold embrace
Tears didn't fall
And my face didn't waffer
But was still and unmoving
And I was carried away by no tide of emotion
All I did was open my eyes and saw white
And was at peace with nothing
And felt nothing
And was nothing
Empty

Black void
deep thoughts
Supressed
Not even the wind
The air stiffling
crippling
as I breathe.
Thoughts diminishing
Peace. Silent.Free

Anger, stiffling
Anger, suffocating
Anger, crushing

I  cannot think
Pushing me to the brink
Causing me to slowly sink
Into a dark hole of numbness
That causes humanity to shrink
Into insignificance in my eyes

Anger, when I'm confronted by your lies

I.
Now that the philosophers are scientists too, who will be next?
Remember when the poets used to count sounds, pattern them?
They seem so stiffling now, that one rhyme to the next,
the following of stress to shallow from height to pit, fall
towards some ending lasting in history. For example, now.
The poets stopped counting and sang songs instead--
it's not that different the professors say, in fact,
some song is lost. For example, now.

     II.
I practiced on a little plastic flute and I liked the songs.
I practiced with a small pen and it was quiet.
I wasn't that good with sound anyway-- I lost the flute.
I grew up and scratched away and the pen still didn't sing.
I would read and hear symphonies in my head.
Now the philosophers are scientists too. What now?

     III.
The famous scientist says: the poet complains,
I ruin the beauty of a flower because I explain it
like a  textbook  college  lecture  documentary-- look!:
anther  stamen  pollen  photosynthesis  cells:  !
The poet says why can't you just look at it,
thinking spoils it all. Don't cut it up with a microscope.
Just look, please.

    IV.
I wanted to cut up everything into little pieces.
I thought each small thing could sing.
Since the philosophers became scientists too-- quiet.
Everything is quiet.

     V.
I look at the flower and refuse to think.

     VI.
Actually, it is still quiet. The scientists now
claim that their pieces are poems and the philosophers nod
and the market values destroy everything
and the poets are hungry
and we are all hungry
and it is quiet,
actually, it is so quiet.

Well my dad has "a cancer"
And I suppose I want to write about it

I've just been to the chiropractor and
My beloved back ******* did something weird
Or I tensed as he heaved his mass
On top of my lower back to crack it
And now something in my right lower back dimple
Hurts

He collapsed on friday
Mom and I were home
It was a caustic flood of terror and dread
As we raced up the stairs
To find him
In the tub, unaware of himself

The screaming that ensued, the drag of the
Seizing, vomiting body to the floor
The wetness from his mouth
From his crotch where his body gave up its most basic functions as he left us for a while

Later he said he could still hear us
Screaming

I couldn't find my phone to call 911
I almost slipped on the stairs as I scrambled to the house phone

She was screaming "No! Estas vivo! Dios! Jesus! Estas vivo mi amor!"
She had her fingers in his mouth again
To keep him from choking on what was coming up
Even as his jaw tightened and his teeth closed down around her fingers
Later I saw blood on his lip where
His teeth had clenched down on her fingers
And caught the thin skin of his lip there
Blood and bile on the corner of his mouth

I remember one doctor we talked to
Said she shouldn't put her fingers in his mouth
I tried to pull them out
Her eyes bulged from behind her glasses
His eyes lolled, glossy and crossed
The foam across his lips, the limp body
The tightening mouth

I realized I needed to call 911
I ran for my phone but could not find it
I flew down the stairs, nearly slipping on my white socks
Screaming "No puedo encontrar mi telefono! Mi telefono! Perdón!"

I wondered if the extra seconds spent
Getting to the house phone
Would make or break his life span
As I shouted "perdón", I clocked the irrationality of that thought
Surprised that in this moment
I had the wherewithal to begin to blame myself
And to also dismiss the self-blame

I found the house phone and dialed

Sprinting back up the stairs

Her screams were even louder
I was screaming too,
Who knows if there were words in my screams

Nothing strikes horror into me
Like the sound of my mother's gritos
Terror, shrieking, demanding he live NOW
That he come back NOW
I don't properly know the words to describe how she sounded
I've never heard sounds like this
Screams like this

Ratcheting terror, acidic, piercing
It was not a wail,
Something in a wail has given up
This was a plea overflowing with fear and pain
While also a demand dressed in adoration and purest love
It was the sound of a child calling to her god
To save her one love
The sound of a wife demanding to her husband's
Earthly form that he STAY incarnate
The sound of a mother coaxing to the child still living in this man
Invoking each of his cells to come back to her
Calling him back from whatever ether
She could sense him disappearing to

He wasn't slipping away
He was seizing and foaming
There was no peace
It was maybe the fullest sound I've ever heard
I'm sure I'll hear it the rest of my life

Then I hear the 911 operator
Her tone condescending at the screaming
My screams were guttural
I have no idea what place those screams came from in me
I'm sure having my mother to mirror
Having her fullness to echo caused me to panic further
My body that once lived inside of hers
Heard that sound and nothing could be right
Everything was wrong
So I screamed and screamed,
Crying, guttural, shaking

The 911 operator said a few things and I heard her
I knew I could not speak kneeling there on the floor,
Everything in me, energy and body going out of myself
To these two who brought me to life

I leave the room and try to explain we need an ambulance
I tell her the address
Half way through the numbers
I hear my mother screaming again
And my numbers end in screams

I lean my forehead against the wall
I breathe slowly
And I explain the situation

Please send an ambulance
He's not conscious
Or is he?

I go back to the room
He is conscious
My mom is thanking god and holding his head
He is trying to brush her away
Feeling overwhelmed

He tells us he's going to stand up
My mother tells him no
He tries
I hold his arm and tell him no, you are not getting up
He says not to call an ambulance
My mother and I incredulous at his utter
Stupidity
The 911 operator tells us that he shouldn't move
He looks in my eyes and gives me his best death stare
I tell him no again
He stays on the floor and more vomiting begins

I grab a towel for him
It's not enough
My mother tells me to grab a plastic sort of square bucket thing from beneath a rocking chair nearby
I don't like that bucket though
And I don't think he would like it either
It's a weird color, a brand sticker has been ripped off of it, it looks cheap
So I go downstairs to grab a mug
The 911 operator has become more sympathetic to our plight
I suppose now that I am no longer screaming in her ear
The ambulance is on its way

I pick a large flowery mug with a funny base and a round middle
My mom says it's not big enough
I go downstairs again and grab a bowl this time
I take it up but it's not right either

My mom insists I get the square bucket thing from under the rocking chair
I do
It's right
I go back downstairs
The 911 operator says the ambulance is in the neighborhood now
I cry a bit as she soothes
I selfishly take this moment alone in the hallway by the front door
With the 911 operator on the line
Soothing tones and soft "yeah, I know, that's pretty scary stuff"'s
Wash over me and I cry again
Telling her this is the second time
She sees that on the file

Out of the porch window I see the ambulance, I let her know they are here
She wishes me a good day and hopes everything will be alright,
I hold her well wish in my heart as I open the front door for the paramedics
They go up the stairs and to the right

My parents and I are slight people, we are all under 5'6 and petite
These paramedics are so tall and large,
Equipment makes them even bulkier,
They fill the space so completely,

I don't want to go into the room,
I don't want to watch him dismiss my mother yet again
When yet again it was her who
Beseeched, demanded, begged, pleaded, created
With everything in her
For him

And he brushes her away with a swat
Of his large knuckled hand
He's an old white man
She's a youthful Latina woman

Wearing pajamas, red, swollen eyes,
Her accented voice filled with equal parts joy and suffering,
He's alive, but is he dying?
Frizzy hair in a low pony tail,

The paramedics follow his suit,
They want to dismiss her as well,
They downplay the seriousness,
He downplays,
They downplay,
And she sits beside him anyway,

I leave the room,
I pet my cat,

I go downstairs to text the family group chat from my moms phone,
I still can't find mine,

My brothers are coming into town today
For dads birthday dinner tomorrow night

I text them them a brief synopsis,
I hear the paramedics upstairs joking around,
My mom is helping my dad change into other pants
In the bedroom,

They carry him down the stairs in a chair,
They take him outside to put him in a stretcher,
I say "I love you", he waves
I go upstairs to check on mom
She will be in a frenzy trying to decide what to wear to the emergency room

I tell her to put on sneakers
And that the hoody she had on was just fine
She is beyond frazzled
She has to change her underwear and get new pants too

I stand just outside the bathroom door
She puts on the hoody
Then throws it to the bed with the dramatic flare of whatever panic attack she is stiffling
I demand she put on the hoody
Grab her purse and go downstairs now

He needs to go to the emergency room now
And she needs to go with them,

She obeys

She leaves the house

The ambulances leave the house

Mercifully, I am alone

I clean up the vomity things
I wash the dishes
I put clothes in the wash

At some point in the madness my mom told me
To turn off the grill
There was a brisket there
And it shouldn't burn
I go back to the meat
I can't turn the grill back on
I try the same useless technique for several minutes

Savoring the crisp air
I feel a bit selfish again
Wondering if there's something else vital I should doing
But I realize that no
There is nothing more to do

I let a few juicy self-pity thoughts soothe me
I'm just a child (I am 29)
I shouldn't be cleaning up my parents ***** soaked pants
Calling 911
Cleaning his bile from a hideous square bucket thing
Then I realize of course
I am 29
My dad is 80
This is what happens
Sometimes

Later at the hospital
They did some things they needed to do for him
He fainted from low blood sugar
He had been starving for a month or more
A growth in his esophagus
Not allowing food, water, even saliva to go down to his stomach
He had lost nearly 30 pounds in three months

He refused to go to the doctor earlier
In these three months,
Refused to be urgent when he spoke to the nurses or doctors
Refused to heed us that he needed to be seen immediately
But finally even his body could not resist his ego's need
To be okay,
And his body did what it needed to do,
To get the help it needed,
His body sent his mind away,
So that we might help his body,
Because he would not.

Now 6 days later I'm sitting in a Barnes and Noble writing this out
He's been released from the hospital,
He is home and eating again thanks to a stent in his esophagus
Next week there is a meeting with
The very nice oncologist
Today there was meant to be another procedure
But it got cancelled because of the stent
I am waiting on a call from the oncologist
Apparently she called us several times to let us know that the appointment was cancelled
But no one received any calls
I wonder what number she has been calling

We got up early this morning and went to the hospital
He didn't eat anything all morning and spent unnecessary energy walking around
He needs every pound he can get
But I breathe slowly
I can smell my charcoal and lavender deodorant
It's actually really soothing

Party in the USA is playing
I'm having a pistachio late
And right now, everything is okay

He is at home, eating some soup or something
Having a protein shake
He is stable and okay
It's all okay now

But it wasn't okay then
At all

And now it is okay
Which is hard to accept right now

I am exhausted.

Often struggling
Can't seem to understand
How stiffling
The need to be understood

Deep connection
Too personal for most
Met with aversion
Left alone once more

Kindred spirits
Rare as diamonds
Once found
A blissful horizon

Fret not,
It may take long
Each encounter
Life's like a song