You are my sunshine

when skies are grey

but sometimes I just

need a break

from all those harmful

UV rays

you bleach my hair

you tan my face

you dress me down

you keep me baked

and then when all

is said and done

the moon’s as pretty

as the sun

before we fall asleep
you look out the window and notice
the first snow of winter
finally falling
it thinly coats cars trees streets

and before we fall asleep
i pray it will stick till morning
so i can see the paw prints
of the black cat i just saw
running along the fence.

I wore slacks for 12 hours today and
costume changed my tie once for
a nicer occasion that required a thicker knot

I sat with my back more rigid than it knows how
And did not cross my legs or
put my elbows on any tables and
I refrained from using the word “bitch”
Even when the lady was being one

I was napkin lap charming
Speaking only softly and
Always peppered with compliments

All the while

I was quietly counting
The oddly growing number of
small rough blisters
On my fingertips and hands

These muscles ache and stretch
they are the Devil’s Sinews,
the machines of a vengeful spirit.

My heart, clutched by blackened bones
is pounding and burning,
my stomach spraying acids from it’s
pores

I would scream if my lungs would not
brim with pesticides.

I would kill if my hands would
stop ripping my skin from me.

I would eat and tear and scream would
my body permit me.

Instead I smash my hands on concrete
until they are but
pulpy stumps.

Instead I break myself apart.

water slips between.
you slip quickly between my fingers as i grasp
for you.

For every stupid girl who let herself fall

Unbeknownst into the

Clutches of yet another reprehensible fool,

Know this.

 

It gets better. I know it sounds cliché but I promise. Maybe not

Tomorrow but some day, you’ll look back

 

And realize that nothing was ever really so bad.

Let yourself move on and you will see,

Life will go on.

i don’t know if the
road to peace has any
mile markers on it but
i’s counting my footsteps
up ’till today and i
wish i knew how much longer
to go cuz i’m so so tired
hiking from atom to atom
to the tempo of all of the
multi
cellular
war
drums
and
their
chanting
sounds so beautiful, some
times
and their eyes are so
beautiful some
times

and i get up
things spread back out
and disappear
and that beauty is replaced
with waves of electrons
and even then things are
beautiful some
times
and lo my thumb hits the air.

I have no beautiful words,

only mindless ramblings.

A drifter’s soul

and a coward’s heart.

A genius’s mind

with a drunkards ethic.

I am nothing

and everything.

Loveless

and loved.

Death is welcomed,

and denied.

Fuck my mind, it’s useless

Break brick wall me right in the chest like gods own bulldozer
Make me many windowed
So I can throw my dusted moon caution
Towards the wind and clouds
And watch it catch night sky in staircase pattern
Meet me halfway
Between my windowed chest
And my big yellow moon silence
Look me right in the storm eye
The calm inside the restlessness
My moon unmoving lips
And bring me home

That gentleman in the corner,
he is insane, I think.

He is eating buttons
like they are candies.

He swears they’re all he can afford,
but I gave him a bag,
last Sunday,
of the finest M and Ms
this side of the Mason-Dixon.

And yet he eats his buttons,
now, and his shirts don’t
stay done either. And
by the time he sews them up
he’s on to another.

But I gave him candies
not a week ago.

So let him sit in his corner,
I say,
and let him, bare and breathless,
chew another little hunk
of plastic for all it’s worth.

He deserves it.

As another man in another life my
soul was up for grabs but
I got it back and now
It’s safe in a trust fund,
lock and key and all of that.

If I got the bank-man right
I’ll double my investment
in no time
(say a lifetime or so)
and that’s perfect, says I.

After all I’m not using it,
and since a lifetime is
exactly how long I plan to live,
I’d say things are working out
precisely.

As long as this bank don’t fail,
that is.

Stilt walk me skyward on tree trunks
So I can catch you meteors
Or at least set rocks on fire
And throw them as high I can
Teach my legs
How to dance gently on sand
So I can spell you poems as graceful as
Salt water at your feet
Teach my hands
The violin curve of your swan long neck
My grasshopper music could use your accompaniment
When you sing sunrises
Before your lips ever know it
While I leg scratch melody
With the jittery anxiousness
Of the nights last ice cube
Shaking in the cup of
My moon chalked hands
As they master silence
Again

 

I’m praying to a god I don’t believe in

I’m hoping to all hell this shit is true

I’m wondering if life has any meaning

I’m wishing I could get some sort of clue

You’re running from a life you can’t escape from

You’re hiding from a man who sees it all

You’re telling me there’s nothing to be scared of

You’re saying that you’re just too big to fall

We’re on a crash collision course with everything

We’re running out of time, you know it’s true

We’re gasping for fresh air but quickly sinking

We’re both thinking what we can’t deny is true

everyone has to be alone, sometimes.

I am made of storm eye and powdered moon
The silence in the emptiness and the calm inside the nothing
I reflect sunlight
With the white brilliance of opposite ellipsoid
I hillbilly smile toothless whistle
Like birds painted on cloud undersides
I too blink existence, just look up

10 hours from now I’ll be in the air
still agonizing over the length of the road ahead of me
14 hours from now I’ll be on the ground sprinting between man-made obstacles to prove I’m not a terrorist
15 hours from now I’ll be in the air
19 hours from now I’ll still be
24 hours from now I’ll be questioning my mental sanity, my own stamina, life.
26 hours from now I’ll again be on the ground between pain, but in a country where everything works right. It will be relaxing. There will be a meal consumed.
28 hours from now I’ll again be in the air
35 hours from now, for the first time in six months, I’ll be home.

I am a ghost.

Once lush and full,

I am now lost-empty-

floating through

the rooms of my memories

past.

 

I am no one,  I

am here, invisible,

filled and fueled only

on images of a finer day

which once held me

tightly in its arms.

To each room,

 

I am but scenery,

or rather, a

soft breath disturbing

crisp, sweet, putrid

air, in each pressing moment.

The frigid night air burned

as it poured

through the crevices of my

protection.

Exhilaration, I thought.

It was propelling, all of

it, on the cusp.

The dimmed, lamped concrete corners

awaited my next stumble.