Physically I live here
My veins weave through the house
My limbs dig into the sheets
My voice lingers through each room,
yet I barely feel my own presence

Spiritually I’m on another planet
My heart races with the stars
My soul showers in rainstorms
My eyes dance with galaxies,
but my mind wimpers for a better tomorrow

It’s a choice,
to stay in my own head,
I’ve found solace in my daydreams
discovered a world beyond mine,
but I can never stay there for too long

I get lost in the thought of another life,
because I can’t seem to come to peace with mine
I climb the tallest trees
Just to get close to the sky,
so maybe I could spread my wings and fly

Flashing c o l o r s, and ongoing music it hits me in the face like a wave of static electricity.

The ecstacy strikes my taste buds like sugar and neuro toxins dancing on my tongue.

The smell is foul of puke and *****. Teens are raving,
while the music is playing. Grinding against one another like a mortar and pestle.

Watching an influenced man try to get with a vulnerable women.
Taking advantage of every drop off alcohol that goes into the women’s veins,

there is no blood left, just firewater.

Intoxicated, lying on the floor, blacked out from all the dope.

She finds herself bare in a bed with a man twice her age.

She wimpers to herself saying “I’ll never drink again.”
As she practices her teetotalism,

at a fast pace she grows weary of blood flowing,
and vision clear. She once was a party girl, but that night has saved the day.

Her profile reads “I dance for tips,
                                downtown in Portland.”
Most are looking for the next pair of lips
to kiss
between their legs.
But I'd like to hold
                                her hands
                                behind her back
as she bends over
                                realizes I don't drip ink,
or cash,
                                and wimpers.
A sugar-daddy?
With tattoos? No,
you might get an insurance salesman,
                          or occasional sports equipment re-saler
a single father or two
                         to pay for your tired, old
opinions.
Or you might stop dancing,
                          sell real-estate
your creativity decaying inside a white,
metal box
                         like those bloodied
tampons         janitors were
embarrassed--
ashamed-- to pick up
in junior high bathrooms.
                          She might move back in with her parents
and fly
             like some silken night-robe flapping on a clothesline all day Friday,
all day Saturday. Until lunch on Sunday,
when she pulls it down.
Or she'll flap that way
              for years, on a line in Portland.
Until one day,
                         one day,
that man who won't hold her
                          in the shadows
                          will
                          come
with money,
                     tattoos abounding
and watch her dance
with tears
                  streaming
into the sheath of her time-worn robe
in afternoon sun.

She will be our daughter
with hair of finely woven copper
to match that of her father.
And as she drinks from her sippy cup.
Five feet off the ground.
I could never be so proud.
When she holds my hand with fingers the size of pencaps
I could never be so glad
When she wimpers in her sleep
I'll wonder what she's dreaming

I brought you flowers and only smiled when you stomped on them.
Your eyes were swollen and red when you told me to leave with your mouth.
Then you stepped back and invited me in with your silence.
We sat at opposite ends of the couch.
I watched our favorite movie, you muffled your wimpers and tried to hide your tears as you stared at your phone.
I covered you with a blanket once you fell asleep.
I stayed up a little longer, lest your night terrors come.
Now it was my turn to weep; I kept quiet so you wouldn't wake up.
I fell asleep on the floor in front of you and you were gone when I woke up.
I could hear your sobs coming from the bathroom.
My hand grabbed yours as you emerged.
You didn't even try to hide your wrists as the blood ran down them.
Back in the bathroom we went.
I cleaned the wounds and wrapped bandages around them in silence.
You couldn't look me in the eye when you asked "Why?"
I held back tears as I looked up at you and smiled.
We went on a walk that day and didn't get back until dark; Silence the entire time.
Whenever I saw you glancing over at me, I made sure I was smiling.
When we got home, we could barely stand, leaning up against each other.
I drew you a hot bath and sat outside the tub, washing your hair for you.
I knew we didn't have much longer together and I knew you didn't want to talk about it, or anything for that matter.
The next morning, I made you breakfast in bed; you refused to eat.
The time was drawing close, I made a phone call.
Later that day we went to see our friends for a late lunch.
It was only an hour before we returned home.
I was tired and told you I needed a nap.
I could see the anguish in your eyes, but I only smiled and kissed you on the forehead.
I laid down in our bed and went to sleep.
I didn't wake up.
A couple days passed and a package arrived.
You opened it and found a jar of liquid and a note: "Remember, Olive Juice."
I can still see your smile from here.

For a beer in one hand,
I see a man cannot live without

Anxiety kept under wraps
A special need escaping out

All men they need
Attention that with they feed

Dying quietly inside
What men say often
Is not what they mean, or even need

Unclear of how dear
One woman can be to thee

Lost, but without fear
A man will win out

No woman can hear
The man as he wimpers near

Crying up to the sky
Succumbed by his pride

No passions
He falls to his knees

As if surrendering will
Help him rise to his feet
Without sacrifice of Love
Or Blood

an old radio delivers static along
with the choking sounds of wimpers and moans. dried blood softening
from unbridled tears caused by
tidal waves of memories that conjure
a sudden intense loneliness only death smiles at.
trembling hands reach out as the phone seizures
is it the one who has crushed your heart
the one who Ripped you in half
the one who chewed up your soul and left you to bleed out
the one who can mend you with one word one touch one kiss
is gone

With shaking fingers I reach for my pen.
Never knowing what to say.
But really, what should you proclaim in your last moments?
Soft wimpers of love and affection?
Or harsh remarks of how ****** you feel every one is?
Lies? Honesty?
Not knowing what to say
You simpily write
Goodbye.
Stand from your chair.
You tighten the noose
Just so it won't fall loose.
You close your eyes
And.
       Let.
           Everything.
                        Go.
In one solid motion
You.
     Are.
         Left.
             To.
                Swing.
Everything you ever wanted. Right below your feet.
All that is left to ask is...


Are.
You.
Happy?

They met shouded in darkness.
They found eachother within the stars.  
They ascended at the hands of pleasure.
Among heavy sighs and wimpers. Lost in a momement to remember