the funny thing about time
is the way it grinds your bones to dust
while they’re still sitting in your flesh

we can all feel it,
we pretend we don’t, but we do

you feel it when you wake up in the morning
having dreamt of your childhood
and the sound of your sister’s laughter is still ringing in your ears

you feel it when you look up from a book
and its not your brother sitting in the chair next to you
but a strange fellow with a deep voice
and a nose that looks remarkably familiar

and strongest of all, you feel it when at the dinner table
your mother asks you what you’ve been up to for the past 18 years

see, the funny thing about time
is the way it grinds your bones to dust
while they’re still sitting in your flesh

just the other night, I pressed my palms together
and I called on a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile,
to ask where he’d been

he told me he’d been spending time with my father
because the man really needed some company
without his oldest son to talk to

oh and while I have you, he said,
your mother called
she told me to tell you
that your bed is made, if you ever want to come home

Sober in the ****** light
sees me looking out over an empire,
the chimneypot stacks pointing towards
gray weathered skies
and my clock lies,
it’s an hour ahead of time,
near six to be precise,
and my head is soldier like:
vigorous, vigilant and abled to strike.

Drunk in the ****** light
sees me looking out over disappointment,
a recollection from last night-
let me dance in an awful club with a girl whose eyes know what I’m on about,
and that my dancing is only a dance- not performance art nor a joke-
-and the chimneypot stacks are early with their smoke,
I am cold in this jumper
and my I lie,
it's an hour behind the rest,
just past four
and my head is all over the place,
unsteady and unsure.

I get dolled up
For no good reason.
Hair and makeup
It's that season.

To get dolled up
With no where to go.
No one wants to party or hang out.
So I'm stuck, dolled up, alone.

What a doll face I have
So pale with light freckling.
Pursed lips, pink tint
Bright eyes, sparkling.

A cute curvy doll.
With dark chestnut above
Graced with a pretty face
That no one will love

I kissed him intentionally
to bruise him
I wanted my scent to seep into
his skin
as he departed the morning after
I wanted him to remember me
like he selfishly
left his blackened odor all over
my body

I reeked of him

And every time I tried to scrub
this false love and empty
memories
off the walls of my skin
the thought of his touch
has all these feelings rushing back

5am mornings, we lay
under coffee stained sheets
with whispered words and promises
and peppermint toothpaste kisses
leaving scars on my skin

7am mornings, we lay
my head resting on your chest
until you leave for the day
with rushed goodbyes and kisses on cheeks
your smell left lingering

10am mornings, i lay
waking to the sound of raindrops on windows
with tired eyes and a heavy heart
my arm left resting
in the place where you once were

A hand rises out of the scarlet misery 
Saving grace, leaving trace
Pull it out
I see this crimson horror
In lieu of my salvation
Deception and Duplicity
I try to pull but it consolidates its hold on me
And it's me drowning in the red pool