stinging words

most days my broken fingers stumble over white sheets
feeble shadows
penning words into fashionable jewelry
you wear around your heart
delicately but oh so quickly
ink black as black as black
pitches across ivory skin of dead trees
as they hold onto my thoughts
like tiny blossoms
letters and words born from a well
rise in alliance
forming hives filled with movement
bees and words
drone in a particular rhythm
both offer honey
sweet dripping nectar
then sting without mercy
alas they all die silent deaths
in the wastebasket beside my desk

merry-go-round

that day you asked me how i felt about you
my head turned into a circus
my tongue a carousel
began spinning words in my cheeks
like sugar spun into pink cotton candy
that suddenly melted in my mouth
what was i supposed to say?
you already knew

the rinse cycle

i remember the day i washed you away
it was laundry day
as i stood there watching my washing machine fill
with thick suds
and graying water
i thought to myself
"i can do that"
wash you out of me
from my folds and pleats
wrinkles and threads
like dirty laundry
so i started
first whites
then darks
onto colors
lastly
i washed you out of my delicates
but as i pulled my skin back on
crisp and clean
i suddenly realized how much i really missed you

spilled milk

white coats milked my tears
like venom from an asp
those terrible drones
working late at night
took delight
in my kicking and screaming
i tried to bite them
when they changed my dressings
like a straight jacket
that did not fit right
my arms would go numb
wrapped in a self embrace
of bloody gauze
that did not comfort me by any means
they ripped my scabs off
as if they were tearing open birthday presents
"we have to debride the wounds"
fuck yeah you do
morphine in my brain
felt so hard
so heavy
but how?
it made no sense to me
my tongue oozed with thick words
that i am sure plugged their ears
syrupy sentences
full of apologies not meant for them to hear anyway
fucking cuckoo clock on the wall
seemed ironic
maybe it was funny to them
or just cruel
i don't know anymore
i may have imagined it
in the plunger full of haze 
that melted reality just enough to make me wonder
they were cruel at first
they knew what happened
those white shoed women
who floated by on clouds of prescription pads
inking out the night's emotional state
on crisp paper and small vials 
that poured a blanket over my pain
while they pulled the bedsheets up harder than necessary
there's no room for any decimal points
to be in the wrong place
or broken syringes in flattened veins
some days i felt like Schrodinger's cat
hoping someone would open the box
untie me
let me out
and declare "she's alive"
then wrap their arms around my broken frame
while they put all the pieces neatly back together
i wondered if my face was real back then
it looked so far away in every mirror that passed my room
i begged someone
to please fetch me a book
i needed words
so tired of reading lines in my forehead
like braille
hoping they would somehow be different
every morning i awoke
tied to my bed
through a hole in my leg

fly the coop

you can't fly on your own
neither can i
but oh baby,
if we embrace each other
and beat our hearts together like two wings
we can reach altitudes of desire
that will make our heads spin
so squeeze tight love
and hold on
for the ride of your life
we're gonna fly
to the top of the world tonight

welcome to the peep show

they told me
pack your pain low
don't put it on display
it's not a circus
or a theatrical show
for public admission
scars are free
you don't have to pay
to see mine
it's cool to show ones with stitches
but not those behind your bones
flay me open
look inside
take a souvenir home

cartographic domesticity

merely loving you
no, that won't do
i'll chart you at night
map a course through
deep red arteries
in search of the mother lode
discovering treasures at bends
even you never knew existed
between silken folds 
pearls in my hands
amid your pleated branches
and arched back
in the morning
i'll dust the sleep from your eyes
before i knead your bones
underneath milk white dresses
bake my bread inside your ribcage
next to your heart of molasses 
then plumb you up against the wall
and iron you with my lips

a letter from ted

here, halloween comes 'round every night
i feel as though i massacre myself
in a plight
not fit for bees
hornets nests
do their best
to sting the misery out of me
but alas
i know why plath baked her head
stuffed in the oven
a yeasty loaf of bread
her words seeped out
like pinpricks
each letter an analogy
of what she really wanted to say to me
turn up the heat
to 350 degrees
she never had writer's block
maybe if she did
the gas would be off

paper trails

i am astonished at times
by beautiful days
that fold into one another
like small origami shapes
slowly flattening out internal organs
no breath will ever be strong enough
to inflate those days back to fullness
they drop to the bottom of the barrel
just out of my heart's reach
those are the ones i remember

bokeh

if she knew i would fit her
like a glove
she might turn away
from that blinding sunshine
knowing i would keep her warm

red ribbon

her clavicle feels good underneath my heartache
entrenched in some sort of oily war
shreds of decency fall off fingertips
sliding across my cheeks
a winter wonderland and skaters collide
you're in for the ride of your life
down the slippery slope
all those red herrings could not deter you
from those nasty skid marks
and all that other mumbo jumbo
your mother warned you about
i don't have a thick enough coat
to keep out the knocking coldness
holes in shoes
tell secrets no child should know
my grandfather's whiskers shout
into my face
and poke at my childhood without reckoning
i don't give a shit about his riding lawnmower anymore
or racing my daddy up the hill
he won
he always did
any honorable man would let his child
run through the blue tape
and fall down in the grass laughing with delight
but not mine
he flew airplanes while we ate tuna from a can
his truck never waited
i walked across thin ice
hand in hand with my mother and her bruised face
black snow boots really told that story well
at eighteen i told my dad to go to hell
another man stepped up to the plate
he's my father now
since i was nine
a real man
not a moment too late in time
i took his name just like my mother
her face no longer fruit
she makes room for more things in her heart
and her cellar doors shut out the cold
now i know if i bend down and tie my shoe
i will once again think of you and all those days
that never added up to anything

prelude to a novel or something like it

The boy gazed at himself in the mirror and thought for a moment he was in love with his own reflection. That made him laugh. He wasn't really, he was actually a little self conscious about his goofy smile. Charisma is what drew people to him. His charm was undeniable yet there was always a hint of sadness underneath his calm exterior. His aloofness mixed with a little bit of self loathing came across as quirky which made people like him. He wasn't really a boy, age-wise but he seemed more boyish than manly so we'll go with that. His blond hair was disheveled and his red button down shirt had a tiny stain on the collar where he had nicked himself while shaving. Red dot on red fabric, only he would notice that. While inspecting the spot of blood he pondered his feelings and had a fleeting thought about being capable of taking his own life. It was a mighty thing to have that control and be able to choose if he were to live or die. It made him feel powerful and magnificent.  He could pick the time and the place and the method of the termination. The only question that remained in his hesitation was whether or not he could carry out the final chapter to his life without shedding a tear. He wanted to be a man about the whole situation but lately it seemed as if he were merely a small boy in an overgrown body. It was something that he was never comfortable with. He looked down and mumbled something to himself about the beautiful pair of shoes that he had so carefully picked out for his meeting with Lucien. They were brown Berluti Rapiécés Reprisés with faint scuff marks on the tips of the toes. The soles were coal black and made a faint squeaking noise when he walked down the hall of the hospital. He relished in the fact that those shoes were the very things carrying him to the place where he would finally be able to tell his secret. The thing that had been tormenting him for over  twenty years now, the thing that on this day would spill out of his mouth in a messy pool of words. Finally he would be free. Free of the cage which had bound him so tightly that he often wanted to pluck his own eyes out for fear of seeing any more terrifying visions of blood, splattered on thick, hot asphalt and billowy trails of smoke rising from charred and twisted metal. Lucien did not know anything about that day, when the air was still and the temperature just a bit cooler than it should have been. That day when the road twisted irrationally and two metal boxes touched, not in a tender kiss but rather in a devastating embrace that halted time, if only for a moment. That moment which hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity until all the screeching tires and shattering glass and wrenching metal came to a stop in an unrecognizable heap in the middle of the black pavement snaking between two red mountains. Then came the eerie silence, while onlookers tried to grasp at what had just occurred. Slowly, the sleep from the boy’s eyes gave way to a gentle trail of liquid salt running down his cheeks mixed with a hint of blood and broken teeth. The shattered bones would tell the story of this day long after they had knitted back together. The boy had his own story to tell and today was the day he would do it.

Lucien didn’t look well and the boy knew it was only a matter of days until the old man would be gone. Soon the cancer, that incurable blackness that everyone fears will have eaten away any life remaining in his fragile body. How powerful, those tiny cells that turn into monstrous flesh eating giants, with gnashing teeth and insatiable appetites. Only now, does the boy feel safe unleashing his secret to Lucien. The boy tried to enter the cold room as quietly as he could, gliding though the doorway on a tempo of soft squeaks. Lucien opened his eyes in the darkness and peered around slowly until his gaze rested upon the blond head of the boy. "Nice shoes," he said as he looked down at the source of the noise that had awakened him. The boy merely smiled in that awkward way and nodded, then he went over and sat on the edge of the sterile bed. He hated the smell of hospitals, the coldness, the darkness, everything was so mechanical, so non-fleshy. He remembered it well. He gently took Lucien's frail hand, caressing the thin paper-like skin and whispered, "I have something to tell you". It was time.

flotsam

i do not fear
the deepest sea
the best fish swim there
your life does not frighten me
sailor's knots
do not know thee
your knees in the clouds
bruised to the core
apple seeds
and fallen leaves
i cast a line
into the ocean once more
for a while i rest
in your hot sand
wallowing in words
up to my chest
you don't follow time
or any course set to sail
i catch a ride
on a sea monkeys' tail
monsters of the deep
tell the tale
of a wishing well
full of shiny pennies
and lost wishes
a man's heart
thrown in for his misses
cradles are robbed
and hobgoblins
bob for apples
unaware of the machete
above their heads
fists dance off my face
in blacks and reds
fourteen years of wedded iron
cast in steel
a ring around your neck
then freedom rang
with a clank of my fallen chain
across your christmas deck

windows and mirrors

look at me
don't look past me
maybe if you look hard enough you will see me
look into me
don't look through me
maybe if you look deep enough you will see yourself

springtime

she was so fucking beautiful

that mother nature

bit her lip in envy
and had to look away
time stopped that spring day

private party

i take enormous delight
in the way her flesh burns beneath my fingertips
birthday candles
lit only to turn her skin to cinders
what a party
i like to skim the blanket covering her bones
her ivory arms
small of her back
volcanoes erupt in every pore
smoke
unseen to her
billows off each hair follicle
sending out messages
screaming incessantly
imploring me to stop this madness
that point where pleasure and pain intersect perfectly
leaves ghostly entrails spread across her body
smoky pleadings to stop
but not really
more like whispers
begging
"don't stop. please don't stop"
my fingers glide easily
her body arches into my smoldering  hands
melting beneath me
collateral damages paid in full
with fiery kisses
to seal the deal
hot and deliberate
now that's love

vertigo

i always imagined one day we would fly a kite together
it would carry us up on a draft
to that place we were always meant to be
but could never quite reach on our own
some day when you're not afraid of heights anymore
we'll do that
but for now
those scissors you carry in your pocket
hold me back
from buying string

the clothesline

her mouth vetted meaningless words
before unleashing them
all the coughing in the world
could not bring up that thing
stuck in her heart
mere thoughts of it loosening
brought tears to her eyes
already dripping
with a days worth of dirty laundry
eyelids now washboards
grated over her vision
inking out what little light
that still crept in
they closed heavily
clanking old prison doors
without keyholes
timeless rusty steel
thick as a hatchet's head
her tears whispered and scratched at the vermillion above her jaw
pounding in that dreadful salty way
until her skin was parchment
ready to be written upon
a tattooed and crumpled up mask
wrinkled furrows show the way down
as if gravity were not enough
to pull the weight of her disappointment to the wooden floor

i saw her disapproval at once
in that swagger
her lip curled
walking across her mouth
an arm piece with a pipe
between her thighs
so deft and ample
a swift kick to her ankle
would not knock it out of place
it's a miracle she could even smile
her backbone so heavy now
even a snowflake's weight would cause
a careening avalanche down her spine
scoliosis or not
no curves would bend far enough
to stop that speeding vulture
with ravenous hunger
it climbed up her sweaty back
clawing and licking
with just enough brevity to force her to her knees

cookie cutter kisses

my kisses are full of promises
i owe you's
and other delicate shit
so don't take them for granted
and never
for a moment
think that they were
crafted for anyone but you
they fit your mouth perfectly
that's not a mistake

mindful

random streams of thought with a few quotes thrown in.

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alphabet soup

galloping words across her tongue
pinch down making it hard to swallow
knots everywhere
knots and laces
tentacles of an octopus
encroach upon nightfall 
tied up butterfly wings
in the pit of her stomach
she does not like trembling
or blood upon her lip
those words fall back in her throat now
crumbling into tiny letters
trickling down to rest in a heap
beneath shaky steps
that visceral abyss does the rest
forcing her legs to gasp
walk forward
spit the words out
then wait for her to say yes.