petals.
petals everywhere.
flower petals.
they flood my stomach, overfill into my throat, and spill out of my mouth.
i wretch.
i heave.
i grip the skin on my legs for purchase.
the petals just don't stop.

petals.
petals everywhere.
in the morning, when i first wake up, petals.
in the evening, when i'm settling in and feeling lonely, petals.
at night, when i'm alone in the dark with my thoughts, petals.
more wretching and heaving.
the petals just won't stop.

petals.
petals everywhere.
when i see your face, petals fly out of my mouth.
out of my mouth and onto the cold, unforgiving concrete.
my knees buckle.
you whisper in a soft voice that could lull me into a blissful slumber.
"are you alright?"
i wretch.
i heave.
why won't these petals go away?

petals.
petals everywhere.
my stomach has become a garden.
has become your garden.
your smile blooms inside of me.
your voice blossoms like a morning glory.
i could get the surgery.
i could get it and forget about you.
about the wretching.
about the heaving.
the petals could go away.

slicing.
dicing.
dissecting.

petals.
petals nowhere.
petals no longer litter the ground i walk.
the bed i sleep in.
the clothes that itch my dry skin.
the sight of your face is now a reminder to me.
a reminder that you are a person.
a person who never appreciated gardening in the first place.
no more wretching.
no more heaving.
no more petals.

I see it in your eyes.
Your fear.
A fear of the unknown.
A fear of taking risks.
A lack of success.
A lack of effort.
A lack of motivation.
A lack of going for your dreams.
A frustration.
The dry threats.
"I'm gonna come down there and kick your ***," you say.
Like dry heaves.
It's wretching.
The nectar of youth slithering away.
Your trying to grasp, clamp so tight.
You are lost.
Taking your frustrations out on others.
"You are such a **** up," you snap.
You've given up on yourself.
You're drowning.  
I love you.  But I can't help you.

this is a poem about happiness.
this is also a poem about how great life is, see? here's a metaphor
comparing nature to the faultless
form of a pedastalized lover,
here's a description of the
effect of changes in air pressure
and localized temperature
fluctuations
on physical matter in a given area.
here's a bland truism that
anybody can relate to.
here's a couple rhyming stanzas
about the ethereal shifting of
connecting threads which
cause all life to dance upon
the cosmic stage like food poisoned marionettes.
here's an ode to the wrinkles of
my ******* and
the bits of fuzz that occasionally
find their home in my *****.
here's a sonette to the drop outs
doing better than me
here's a dirge for the businessman
that hangs himself
and a jubilee for his widow
who earns nothing off his death
because he left his entire estate
to his catamite.
I'm writing a symphony in color,
notes of fermenting wood
dogshit and coffin dust.
the violas swoop and drone
the piccolos trill fast enough
to excise your gastrointestinal system
the barotone sax wheezes
and the timpani drum rumbles
(the flutes sit motionless because
**** flutes)
the pianists fingers are bleeding
hes banging with stumps now
his face contorted in ecstatic glee
as if the face of god has parted
the clouds just to scrape his gums
clean with his dietous ****.
and lo faint is the whisper
which climbs and slithers
between the
false,
bash upon life with both hands.
here is life here is death
let me show your life
let me breathe your wretching
like squandered
like roots in the soil,
paint your everlasting cave drawing
in the face of your kitchen
and dance around a fire
let the embers lick your heels
til pagan viciousness overtakes
your quivering form.
gasp it in

Feel the fire on your flesh, burning, transforming your entirety
Keeping all your secrets, forever hidden from the ones that you choose to deceive.
And if you feel that he is getting too close, run away…. Far away..
Never be too far away from home, to truly leave.

There in the distance, there is a siren beckoning for you.
She has her hands out to embrace you, only to crush you.
Her velvet dress is plunging down, so deep  you can see inside her.
But, it’s never enough to make her want you as much as you want her..

Listening to the folk music in the distance …
I can feel the agony coming on to me again..
Could it be real “??   Could it be my fault, again.?
Seeking revenge through the strangest of ways.  

The rocks are so real, that the sailors think they are seeing a mirage
But in reality, they think they will truly live past this day
Gorging upon the flesh of the past in the true spirit of the future
Bent, solemn, tragic, metamorphisis of the human character.  
Dig deeper, into the humanity that is no more.

Lifting my eyes to the stained, blackness of  their souls
Freedom beckoning from a distance for miles
Sativa and honey dripping from the demons, black. toothless grins
As I ***** my empty stomach and wretching, green nothingness, human bile.

So go upon your merry way and sing while you die
Feel the ******* anger and bitterness eating your insides.
So then, you walk the plank, knowing your end is near
Never giving in to the blanket of fear.

Tell tale signs of forgiveness, that is rarely real.
Stop the *******, you don’t know how to feel.
You lost  your soul a long time ago, gave it up for a bag
Now your eternity is forever evil and you’ve lost your true life’s zeal

a bowl of black beans / your mother sitting on the other side of the kitchen / this liquidation of self / you would be something / anything / anyone / if it could make you safe / the black beans taste like nothing now / you aren’t crying but you’re **** near it / your mother makes a honey sweet remark / won’t you stay alive / and / eat your beans then we’ll leave / and you don’t have an answer but you listen / you are pleading with the voices to let you eat the beans and make them taste less like bleach / your mother bleached your hair when you were fourteen and you bleached your skin at sixteen / you drank that same bleach from that same bottle three days after your sixteenth birthday/ but this is a bowl of beans and it tastes like that time / smells like that time / your throat coughing up blood and your body wretching to *****.

a bowl of black beans / your mother takes that bowl and washes it out in the sink / you still have that hoarse voice from imagining it tastes like bleach / you still have that ***** wretch instinct because of how much your throat stings / then mother says; you’ll stay with them for some time / as if that makes anything better / a drive into the emptiness of a psychiatric hospital / a place they’d sent you when you were ten because you were so angry and so depressed / you break when the blue tiles turn to ocean and you drown / you break when the red tiles turn to fire and burn your toes / you are hungry again / but you know everything you eat will taste like bleach.

you can’t sleep because the bleach is still on your tongue / you think of that bowl of black beans / your mother sitting on the other side of the kitchen / maybe you’d see her smile again / maybe you’d be broken and be able to exist comfortably / don’t you want to survive to see that?

you answer / no / i’d rather die than be patronized.

He knows it is poison, yet indulges.
It's the one way he's learned to live through it.
And so stays dry. It's sobering.
For months and months and months,
It's a life he enjoys.
Then comes the itch, so the plan is engaged.
Leave and become a stranger,
A pub-fly in Ireland.
And when he returns, Day One is at hand.
The cleansing is on.
For three days he digs, buries himself
In the dark.
Wretching and heaving til bruised.
Step by step by step...
A red face lights the sink basin,
Water, not tears fill his eyes.
By eight tonight Day Two begins.
But that's still hours away.
Back to the sink.
When  Day Three dawns,
He rises and walks out.
Step by step by step...

Before I knew you
I thought you’d changed, too
Thank you, you proved me wrong

We made plans, they ended
It was good we wanted
You said you should be moving on

Without any warning
I woke that morning
When you were gone

Left alone, my plans remain the same:
I’m here to do good, it’s not my choice
The cards were dealt, I’ll play my hand—
I’m fine this is no sacrifice

But since I’ve been here
My problem seems clear—
A sickness metronomed

The volunteer’s life
Is filled with small fights
But my disease has blown

Into war with *****
An acid stomach
And no connection home

I see it, believe it, that decency persists
This place is not what it is, but what we’ve made it
We’ve learned to give and take the bad and good
But to see ourselves outside ourselves is how we’ll change it

A place with palm trees
Dead farms and disease
In my students

I saw a pain that
They didn’t know yet
Would break them as they grew

And these ignored ones
These poorly born ones
They had no need for hope

Yet before I knew them
They gave me more than
They took to feed their own

I thought I knew what they could show
That good escapes all circumstance
But though I help them, I cannot love them
My strength’s abandoned romance

And still I’m wretching
My sickness spreading
It’s in my gut

I see your face in
The ripened rice which
They have begun to cut

In the evenings
I walk what once were green fields
Now dirt-blonde husks

That stab the air
The color of your hair
My stomach churns

Hope is useless
And I’ve abused it
I think I’ll leave it on its own

But I keep working
The sickness lurking
Well, that’s how hardship’s earned

her dress was blue gauze
                           because there wasn't much there,
                                                          ­         for hair, or makeup
                                                          ­             after her breakup, she went to the mall and used
yes uses, the outdoor steps for a changeroom, putting on her polka dot pjamas, once that
could be used, for the game of twister.
                                           Poor sister.

She took it all off in the downpour,
                     she chose not shower, the water was too cold and refreshing,
                                               make her catch her breath while wretching,
                                                      ­  no one walking by found her fetching,

they all turned away as they walked by,
so did my wife and I but she checked
and confirmed, the stairs were her change room, she was putting on dry clothes
she had three overstuffed bags, her feet were cold and wet, her socks were wet,
we did not see any shoes,
sadly her angry looks at
the invisible people she
muttered too
uttered curses loudly
kept anyone wanting
to help far away, as far away as Oz,
whoever wanted to be a bridge for her troubled water,
and all she needed and all she wanted was a dry place
to lay herself down,
sail on, silver girl
sail on by,
there will be serious prayers for you tonight, because God does not
make life trivial, we do,
take your bags,                                                            ­          He will cover you with wings
and your baggage, in your hands,                                   He is sufficient, to provide for your needs
is all that you own in those purses and bags, but you are not alone,
even if you have been given up for lonely.
Will someone be sent to help her?



©DWE012014

I cut,
Each time the blade wretching deeper into my wrist,
Blood oozing out of my skin,
Like waves in the night, full of wist.

A rush of adrenalin surging through my veins,
As I cut deeper and deeper,
I can no longer take control of the reins,
I can no longer take control of my actions.

I am in a daze,
No longer in connection with anything,
Like I'm all alone in this big maze,
Cut off from the world.

But I wasn't like this 6 years ago,
I was a good little kid,
Playing with lease and snow.

Life was so simple,
And now I can see,
How much I've changed, for the worse,
And exactly what impact you've had on me.

When you left everything went sour,
As you craved to live,
And seek more power.

No father in my life,
Has led me up a tree,
And now leading me to this knife,
Ever so painfully.

Now I lay here,
Slowly fading away,
Not even a friend near.

Pain subsiding,
Fear demolishing all hope,
Of ever being me.

Gliding,
Gliding away as if I had wings,
Pain gone, I feel fresh,
New almost,
I can see my body lying in a tangled mesh.

As I rise upwards,
Finally free,
Now no one can make an impact on me...

By every stitch awkwardly placed.
Does there linger a sting.
A colorless.
Vastness.
Of nothing.
A space.
Larger than any ravine.
Boundless.
Where even the brightest smile.
Drowned.
It was here.
In this same collection of wavering resolve.
A new smile was born.
Of lust.
And piercing wales.
One that fit ever so perfectly.
Tears and pain cascade through.
Yet it remained.
Begging.
Wretching.
Playing with this notion of spite.
And torture.
The blade driven by ones own hand.
Is the very one that knows this darkness all to well.
Hiltless.
Does it dive deeper.
And the black ooze finds a home.
In the abyss beyond.
For this.
Is the viciousness desired.
A circle of ridicule.
And tumble end over end.
Smile intact.
Mind.
Shambles..

I am tired of the tears when I should be over you
Dealing with the things you said and tasks you didn't do
And you owe me for the millions of tears you made me cry
But you in all your heartlessness will keep me where I lie

I am sick of the touch that whispered sweeter lies to me
Bu I can't say it's all your fault since I chose to fall so eagerly
I would say some wise thing of love and loss but this, dear, was not love at all
And oh how I despise myself for wanting to answer when you call

I am weary of the faults which you showed my naked eyes
The worthlessness you showed to someone who once shared your bluest skies
Do you fail to see the venom in the lips with which you kiss my skin
The deceit needed for you to find your temporary win

I will dread any love that comes to me this day forth
Wondering and questioning the heavens of my worth
Wretching instead of reaching for the silver lining of the clouds
Knowing the loser's price when they sets their wages down

Now I know the warnings, the hints, the cautions my mind gave
The reluctance in my mind that inevitably would have saved
The mirror that I chose not to look in simply out of stubbornness
And all the issues that we both had which I chose not to address

And I am tired of the tears when I should be over you
The love that will come once again every time you're passing through
The aching for the nicotine-like feeling that only you can quench
And the tissues scattered on the floor with which my tears do drench

I talk a big talk when you're around.
Yes.
Around you I act so happy -
and part of that is true, because it's you and you're around.
But I talk a big talk.
I can't help it.

Something inside me turns on that has to be strong
When on the inside things are twisting,
so painfully wretching.

Inside is this monster of jealousy,
when you're around.
It captures me.
and trust becomes untrustworthy
when you're around (her).

But when you're around, something in me breathes
that deep breath of what it used to be.

When you're around it's hard to see you leave.
And I can't look you in the eye,
when mine betray me.

All the strength that I had mustered
will melt away like nothing,
and you'll see what's underneath:

You'll see I am not free -  
and the longing that entangles me
when you're around.

echoplex
once obscurantist
now scrutinised in headlines
i'm beginning to feel ok
chaser after chaser to wash down sour sentiment
eviscerate the taste
turncoat
is there an origin?
split your infinities
shed your non-essential claws
embedded deep
broken umbrellas
my eyes look different
atlas falls in amongst the spectrum
lack of character
efavirenz, whitewater in apex
prophetic undertones
cold diffusables
soda left to evaporate
poured over CMYK
through tabloid idiocy
nonsense on stilts
into wormwoods faded muse
yellow collapse
there is a feeling
living game theory
a thought of paranoia
god send the dream
anechoic
salivate the ebb
neo-conservative laden draped production
phenobarbital
can't stretch for a smile
temporal need
bizarre cognition
i feel sorry for me
suffrage, occam's swollen belly
polish fear with a sum
the way of all flesh
shadowed contents entitled: from a to b
from point to point
you want to shift the position of power
there's no one there in the morning
at the foot of the bed
or in the mirror
believe your own fabrications
dial in doubt, dial out everything
we're exactly where we want to be
moulded in consumption
ivory and elephants
the right place
stark lines
compass to televise
triangulate our complacency
shower heads dripping with aspirin
floating corpse
burning ruins, stretched moans
agony suffice, burned out
stick to the skin
all i see is rebus
face bursts with allusion
ear full of maggots
a better tomorrow is a better today
talcum meditation
underhand rhetoric
you are an idiom to fundamentalist greed
partial differential
ignorant and flabby
you can catch me headfirst over a toilet seat
working for kowloon
red ties
men of lethargy, motivated voices
islet of langerhans, shock therapy
anosmia
niche downfall
an arc structure, waste product
halftone mnemonic
lick up my words
capsule, strict reflux
wretching on disappointment
i feel faded
my skin buzzes
tonguing a molar
push it apart
flashes of light
cramps
vestige of fragility
welcoming boredom with open forceps
i don't recognise myself
sponge fed schism
sleeping pills and ***** bath water
cotton tongued peristalsis
egg shells, nodding and a pint of clotted spit
verbal copulation
sprouting flowers from my dead body
feeling like a frayed knot
desolate compendium
shooting pains in my arms
no foresight
i can't get up
i'm busy
i just won't

Outside, it's cold as ice
But I can feel the blistering heat around my neck.
The burning grip, I can't escape
leaving me mutilated as I cease to breathe

These are the hands of a murderer
inhuman and inanimate
I thrash through the embers
in attempt to escape
the vicegrip that leaves me bleeding,
gasping,
burning amongst the flames

I am a brutalized, bleeding corpse.
Pain and indifference drips onto the floor
with every worthless step that I take
The demons have stabbed me repeatedly
I've lost every drop of humanity I had

Everything I've ever loved has been destroyed
This is not what was meant to be
It's me and my demons, and I've just lost it
Someone's going down, and it's not me

Today I will tear the hands of my demons from my brutalized, mutilated face
I will pull the devil's crushing deathgrip
from my lifeless corpse.

I shall watch the blood pour from his body,
Listen to his bones begin to shatter,
and the screeching sound of his
inhuman, brutal wretching
like the squeals of a pig.

I'll set him ablaze and watch him burn.

The devil's vice-grip hands couldn't hold me down.
I'm ready to start my mission.
I'll tie my demons to a tree
and do unto them what they've done to me

I'll tighten these chains around their neck,
Just like they tried to do to me.
I'll watch them suffer, struggle to breathe
Then I'll tighten these chains some more.

and when they think they've reached the end
I'll stab them with knives a hundred times.
Soak them in gasoline, light the match
I'll watch the flesh fall off their burning bodies.

And I'll do it with a smile on my face.

This job will not be done
until each and every one is wholly
unrecognizable,
Skulls shattered into a million pieces,
Bodies thrashed, cut up and burned

They thought they were certainly
stronger than me.
But they would soon meet their demise.
I put a bullet in all their heads
and they all hit the ground, dead.

They should have listened to what I said.
Should have ****** with someone else instead.
I put bullets in all their heads.
Now they're all ******* dead.

As a child I thought they stole
The true essence of my soul
I walked without innocence
Listening in vain for my penance
Searching I journeyed to and fro
To realize I had no great place to go
I wandered through my emotions
Which sent my life in locomotion
Not being quite able to see
The beauty that was within me
People would tell me I was a gift
My mind blocking it I would go stiff
Surley if they could see the past
The love for me would never last
Not once did I see my own light
I was way too caught up in my own fight
One wretching hurt sent me stopping
I finally seen all my own mocking
Sick and depressed my heart was crushed
I wanted dearly to become a drunken lush
I was tired of carrying this extra person
A deep look inside sent me cursing
Nobody on this earth can take away
The God soul given to me that day
Still as innocent as freshly first birthed
When I crossed this threshold to earth
I did allow my emotions to take it all on
When it was their burden for the wrongs
Being grateful not resentful towards them
I finally saw I was a beautiful shinning gem
Daily I learn this human suit I am to wear
Has no bearing on the soul I have to bare
With my angels we keep it locked and stored
I see the reflections now on my own accord
What the world thinks of me or this poem
It has no bearing on how I am going home
The voice whispers innocence within my mind
Beauty and grace is my angel soul intertwined
Channeling spirits from above where I belong
Speaking this truth I will forever stand strong
This battle of emotions never happening again
For now I see I am a true princess within

One hundred and five days
wasted.
Down the drain
along with the crimson and
I tried.

Pushed to the limit, I
Could not control
that which my skin
begged for.

Crawling like a thousand
ants.  Screaming, wretching,
Pleading. Give me
More.

And I gave in, weak in my
Pain.  I could not control,
Myself, my mind, my
Hands.

They say relapse,
Is necessary in recovery but
I say it's
Failure.

Failure and weakness,
Reminding me that I cannot
Overcome the
Monsters.

I begin the count again,
One two three,
Waiting to see how long it will
Take.

One Hundred and Five days
Gone to waste, and I
Tried, and I
Failed.

Instincts may rise and fall
with fitful breath
never to soon
to swallow
th'abyssal
undercurrent that
pulls you
over troubled
Oceans all too often

When restless dreams
bring sleepless
Vision-men
out of the
darkest
swell of night~
Fifty nine prayers
will bowl you under
Twelve years of Starless skies

Ten Stone men
in
ruined catacombs
writhing
out
a heartless
Banshee Howl
steal all thee
yearns for
wretching from
the pit of soured insides~
the deepest
Core
aching
to be released.

Behind the window and through the blinds lies a man, who
stands and perches, naught but a silhouette outlined by the
brown, nicotine-stained glow of the sheets-called-curtains.
Anyway, there's a man there, peering into my window as
measures necessary to enable sleep are taken, but he's
not doing anything, I mean - I'm not sure he's even watch-
ing me, but the hour grows late and try as I might, the mind
runs
wild -
drawing demons from crevices and hands of memory
from the bizarre December thunderstorm winds, and
it's always hard but right now becoming impossible
not to draw lines between nonexistent floating points and
shadow the underside of spinning geometrics. I
don't know how people do it, although I imagine
this ******* guy that will not stop looking at me - ab-
solutely, undoubtedly, has some notiong of how to ..
Hey!
Listen!
I shout, but I'm starting to wonder if he's really there at all
or if maybe he's not a pseudo-******* floating dot-point
construct, designed and developed and implemented by
some crazed group of people to -----------------------------no!
that is unlikely, and probably impossible - really,
I believe that I'm better now and see ent8irely that said
lying-yet-standing isn't a man, no, but that he is
an
illusion!
Looking around at the soft yellow glow from the low-
yield/high-power bulbs as it leaps from sad chair to
stained and scarred electronics and into my
cerebral cortex, the lack of and maybe .. I can
see now a palpable, blood-like desperat-
ion for wont of any sort of human contact - it is
wretching, but ever-present - because, currently, that
cannot
be.
And really is there ever anything nearly as damaging
and damning and, I think I'd argue, driving as the desperate
drive that comes from knowing that what you know is impossible to
rationalize? The terrible tragedy is the way that vile
data manifests itself, corrupting and poisoning pure s
streams, but becoming aware of this wasn't half so bad as
realizing that man you just spent hours learning to hate was
never
there.

Trying
Trying to form
Trying to form the thought
It hurts too badly
The toilet calls for me
Trying
Trying to find
Trying to find the shirt
I lost in my stupor
Wretching at every step
Trying
Trying to think
Trying to think of where
In the ******* I am
Who's house is this?
Trying
Trying to force
Trying to force the water
To stay inside my stomach
Every breath brings more *****
Trying
Trying very hard
Trying very hard to stand
The room spins in a terrible way
Fall to the floor alone
Trying
Trying not to
Trying not to smell
The smoke and whiskey stench
Throttling the air around me
Trying
Trying to remember
Trying to remember my steps
Bringing me to this painful juncture
Lost memory blackened out
Trying
Trying to will
Trying to will myself
Into believing this is my house
And that I need help here.

I like talking about *******
And I like laughing about awkward situations that aren’t my own
I love hearing about how other peoples parent relationships are just as ****** up if not more than mine.
I feel understood when someone new inevitably tells me they have anxiety,
Or that they hated school.
Cigarettes and beer on men’s breathes still make me dissociate.
And I still try and squash my stomach out of existence or into my pocket to put someone else’s comfort first.
And I still ignore pain during *** and separate my mind and body into compartments to situate myself in the part where it feels good.
I’m still angry.
I still get pangs when I see particular people’s names, or photos, or mention of their friends or favourite music. The pang is dulled now like a blunted needle…
But still the stab reminds me of the twang it used to bring.
That would pull at my limbs till I was foetal and wretching.
I think I got bored of my own pain,
Or I wore myself out.
I think there’s only so long you can hold both sides of a non-existent conversation.
I’m still reaching for affection, compliments and pet names…
And I don’t know if it’s ****** or parental but god I just want to be hugged.

I caught myself by surprise once when I snuggled up to my dad and as I lay beside him watching a movie, I revealed to myself how much I was hurting.

I am sick of crying bathroom selfies. I am sick of shower crying and breakfast skipping. But I do like the rush your body gives you after you’ve let loose on tears.
It makes me wonder if depression is just a little bit addictive.

I still like that feeling…and sometimes I want to feel sad because it feels deep..
But it’s only enticing until you’re there and then it’s a deceptive tar pit of hell,
And you’re tricked and sticky and heavy.

I haven’t been depressed in ages,
But my memory’s bad so I might have felt awful last week
I’m not sure.

guilty tears fall as I stare
onto canvas of the past
heart wretching memories
flood my mind.. not sure how to cope with my New found real raw emotion
allowing it to sink into my soul ..not avoiding it or covering it up with poisons
proving to myself... Im actually human.. no reason to run!

‪I'm afraid of the dark,‬
‪the wretching sight of the unseen‬
‪the eerie noises that come within,‬

‪I'm afraid of the dark,‬
‪the endless maze of the colorless‬
‪absorbing every bit of light,‬

‪I'm afraid of the dark,‬
‪the hollowness of the boxed halls‬
‪begins to tighten once inside,‬

‪My mind‬

your eyes wash over me
waves crashing on sand
stripping the beach of its substance

silence stretches between us
growing, blooming
splitting our love into pieces
vines intangling and overtaking

something cold drops from my tear ducts
my heart aches
everything is swallowed
****** into the depth of pain, wretching my body
shaking like an earthquake

you walk away
lowering your head
I howl at you but you keep drifting away
sailing through the ocean that is my mind
the wind whispers to me that you were never mine
you only acted like a gem in my crown,
blending in, but never matching

suddenly I am warm, burning
surrounded by the flames set by you
but the warmth is not enough to throw my winter aside
your lies will not burn my walls down
we are done
I've thrown us aside to make way for a new world to grow
but your roots linger underneath the soil

Met, We have in dimensions beyond these three
In all Our exchanges, I can tell Your heart is free
Your feeling, Your wisdom, Your tender touches of thought
Will always be treasured whether We meet or nought
When least expected, nothing left to laugh at or say
YOU, My Friend For Life remembered My birthday
Once was enough.  I was truly stunned
That You so far away, with no investment, time or otherwise
Took the time to be gracious to Me and Your thoughtful act brought a smile to My eyes

Some day, somewhere, somehow, We may get skin to skin
If that happens, then for both of Us, new horizons begin
In My bereavement, I am in such a lost state
My finances, My nerves, My sleep,
My ***** clothes and You have to wait
If the meme was physical beauty,
I would crawl over cut glass to get to You
BUT A day without tears is the next item on My List To Do

I do have one sharp pin to push in to a deeper depth
Why would You add that last, leery, lunging line about wealth, Eh ?
Over X number of years,
We have talked in a comfortable, smooth, flow and ebb
Have I ever given the impression
I was drilling for $$$ on the interweb, Eh ?
Do You see Me as so shallow that I would court You or anyone else because they had means, Eh ?

The answer is ' no ' regarding means or I would not be sitting here po’, broke and overly distraught with a few pennies in My jeans



If You speak truth and that statement was just an aside
Keep Your money, remain alone and certainly nurture Your pride
While money can't buy Love and very often resents it
There is no reason for You to be alone because
Love can always be rented

The best true Love starts as We did - Friends - I will admit that
I will not promise You a golden roaring Lion and deliver a bane of a regular grey alley cat

Here is something You don't know about Me
that will remain true to the end
When I make a commitment, I am there thru thick and thin
all day, every day and never a slip

You could be the One, the Lover Of My Life.  Never refusing Me, never abusing Me, Never leaving Me alone
I am loaded with stories, some failures, some glories, and nothing else I own
As I look around the bend, in the near distance - the end, I am currently a heart broken Love due to loss
I could never hurt You with the wild, wretching, wicked emotional ride of You watching Me when I am ready to cross

IF Life sends Me another Love, Yes, You are right –
there is no judgment on My keyring
Greater than that - Number 1 in My book –
is Unconditional Love. That's what I bring

Built on the Angel wings of propriety,
the fantasy is always better than the reality

I heard it then, through the tension that tried to hold back the sliding, halting slurring. I shouldn't have come. I always do anyway.
You tried to be funny with your too loud voice and all I could do was squeeze the wheel, knuckles bursting white.
It was not you, and the moment would not pass. I willed myself to keep moving, and the sickening lonely fullness came over me. Fullness like wretching, but I could not purge it.

I am paint over masking tape
To create sharp lines
That never turned out right

I am fingers pressed to screens
And screens
And screens

I am who not to be

I am who I am
And I know what I want

I am drunk,
But not really anymore
So I'm sober
I guess

I am a girl giggling
As her second real boyfriend
Tried to get her to **** his ****
After getting her high
For the first time

I am a mother
Who cheated
By getting an epidural

I am the worst thing
That's ever happened
To too many people

I am poem
After poem
After poem
About boys who probably
Don't remember my name
And whose names
I don't remember

I am dust in the wind
On a dead end highway
In Oklahoma
Where the wind comes sweeping down the plains

I am all the love
And mania
Of a collection
Of bad decisions

I am the screaming
And wretching you hear
Within the walls of a jail

I am wrong so much more often than I am right

I am the acrid smell of
****
Burning through the walls
Of a not-so-happy home

I am dying of thirst
Where the only source of water
Is thousands of miles
Away

You aren't real anyway

rah-deh doesn't understand the blows he is taking
his arm over his head
does nothing

this is an inland characteristic
raising the arm
doing nothing

bleeding does nothing
and that's the trick
rah-deh needs

he is in the weeds
flipping thru old screeds
scratches on his arms

when he dies
nothing is left
to die

he circles back
wretching
easier days cooler nights

both places
see him
at the same time

and unravel
their can't be's
and can't say why

Tell me how he pulls sounds from my throat
like no one does
the waters scream his name
they roar
He plays the strings of my heart
(Love is the biggest turn on)
And oh you Little boy
you give me joy
but nothing reaching his...

We are broken
but one day we'll be mended
I'll be mended
Because you have meant everything to me
in fact, you mean, and I cry on the street
for you, for you, for me, for us.

Oh my man, I won't forget
but there's a catch, there's always one
breaking all my love, wretching all I get
I know I never said so,
but I love you, I love you, I love you,
and I will be back sooon.

Victim of the bleaching waves, we all will be