What’s on my mind tonight?
What isn’t?
long gangly fingers gripping,
clutching,
my throat…
the nails they dig and scrape,
and dig and scrape,
till there’s no meat left,
no flesh, just bone…
But I grin,
and laugh,
it’s good to cackle in death’s face,
great to spit in those empty eyes,
who needs it?

What’s on my mind tonight?
What isn’t?
Just thoughts in passing,
synapses firing,
consciousness audible,
cognitive dissonance blaring….
I can’t hear for my own thoughts,
doubts,
fears…..

There is no forgetting
Not even when you broomstick thwack
The back of your hand a thousand times
Each night
And not when it stops hurting
Not even
When you cut all of the old letters into one inch
Strips
And make a paper mâché piñata of them
You do not forget
When you pop the balloon
When the stick finally hits
The something behind you only knows memory talk now. How
the blindfold feels like everything you
used to intimate to other shadows
But you never bleed candy despite
Sucking sweetness straight through every lovers ear hole
You’re all pulp
So you ring in the morning with
last night’s bootstrap bells
While imitating
This day’s first bird call through always chapped lips
Knowing it is not perfect
It is still beautiful
Because you are learning to teach yourself
How to raise the sun
and how to harmonize with it
Knowing fully that if this porch was an island
And everything not on it right now
Was a thick ocean away
You would not forget
You would always still find your small toe
tracing subconscious names in the sand and
the ash would settle looking too much like
the silhouette you define emptiness by
But
You would always find ways to survive

It’s a quiet somber feeling
of safety and security behind
miles of red tape and
piles of paperwork, and
even when the rest of the world
is on fire and screaming,
Here in our little fort
with the shades drawn and
the locks done up,
everything will be alright,
you promise.

We are match heads
In methane gas times