The thought hit me like a
Fist to the neck
So I rolled over, gently
And let the sheet fall
From off one shoulder
A small wave, lapping at my side
Your lips met my back like
Little sea babies, drenched
And salty, pressing their
Bodies into the sand
To dry off
To cover something up
There are only so many words
Available to us now
And I’ve used them all up
They’re washed up on the
Twilight shore
Rotting away like whales.
dragging out of bed
into the living room,
watching snow flakes
slowly whipping,
slowly whirling,
blown here
blown there,
finally coming to rest,
in a white bed,
looking so warm,
looking so cozy,
leading me back to my own bed
to sleep away the day,
warm and cozy inside.
inside my hallowed spine
there are worms and things
of much naivity
inside this spine of mine
is a spreading disease
killing everything
inside my rotten spine
hides everything i am
oh how can i stand
having such a spine
where things die
all the time
inside my hallowed spine
my heart is beating
sweeping arpeggios
like i was 16
and clowns are
rushing through my
limbs and brain
but i am wide awake
and aware that
four years difference
is sobering at best,
and behind the laughs
of the clowns there
are drunks and whores,
and behind the arpeggios
there are veins.
an hour glass to slow the moments
as history before our eyes unfolds
one more scoop of sand here to
slow things up and one more
pile of crap here to swallow down
chew your grainy feces filled bite
get used to the grain, the taste, the fight
before night comes one more pile
goes down. up to your knees wearing
the presidential crown
i write most of these lies
with the most truth i have
and the most mind i can muster
and the very most saddest
of laughs
i write all of these lines
for the white space they break
i write ’till the sky goes black
and the earth itself starts
to shake
i think my desk is secretly on fire
and it doesn’t want to tell me because
it knows i don’t want to know
whether or not it burns when she slips
into my mind
maybe my desk is secretly on fire because
i secretly am setting it on fire
with the heat of my fists on it’s
fake woodgrain exterior
or it’s on fire because i just
lit it on fire and am blocking out
the memories because i’m losing
my mind, and
it’s keeping that secret from me too
either way, this desk is lying to me.
the sieve and the sand 