for you

with my face buried in your neck i inhaled
swallowed you up like smoke in my lungs.
i breathed you into my body, pulled you
inside of my rib cage and right there,
that’s when i knew.

something was right
though i knew not what.
the point was simply
that i knew.

driving aimlessly through this town,
(this fucking town that i hate so much)
we were nowhere in particular.
you remember it, too: the way
the streets all blend together
so you don’t know anymore
where you’ve been and
where you haven’t.

(i think we both know what it is to be lost.)

in that moment i didn’t know much
but i knew at least this:
where i was, you were.
so there i sat with the warmth
of you pressed into my side,
your breathing on my skin and
heart beating in my right ear.

i understood the language
of your vital signs telling me
i was home.　

slices of the p…

slices of the past are a
cold pizza breakfast;
the taste is good but the
     texture
has been altered
     it is tougher colder

& stiff

i’ve got a mind like a steel trap and memories so sharp they tear through flesh.

and once upon a time,
i was an artist
creating designs with knives.
at first red and hot to the touch,
their brilliance faded and became
faint, etched permanently
into skin -

now (of their own
accord) they open and
draw back    like velvet curtains
(heavy and crimson)
as if to say,
the performance is about to begin.

ladies and gentlemen i give you blood.
ladies and gentlemen boys and girls,　
i bleed for the wreckage ive left in my wake.

a toast to suffering

through careful observation one can only conclude that life has an innate tendency towards utter destruction quite similar to the force of gravity on the physical world. every living creature on this earth fights every moment of every day against this unseen force. tooth and nail. for homo sapiens, it is the subject of much consternation: why can’t things just be the way i want them to, why can’t life just be easy? but what nobody seems to realize is that life was born out of constant struggle,

if there were nothing to fight against
there would be nothing to live for.

hell and high water

(2008) she
had always carried anger

life was an ocean and she was a ship
powered by steam from the hot coals
in her gut

and as that year drew to a close
the anger became rage became
fire

infernal (intel incinerator inside®)

hotter and more violent than ever before
it burned with a savage brilliance

and shone out like carcinogen light
of a ruinous sun behind her eyes
(SPF 10^100 rendered useless)

i am being killed

in my dreams i am someone else. in my dreams i am being killed. running as fast as the legs will go from faceless drivers chasing me with heavy machinery. my body will be torn apart and mixed with soil. farmers will plant seeds and bury them among shards of bone and chunks of flesh and the crops will be tainted with my blood. the harvest will be lean and it will be my fault. tell the farmers i am sorry. i would apologize to them myself but my fate is sealed: the end is closing in from all directions. with no way out i face the machines to be destroyed headfirst: brain before body. nerves firing into nothingness (the line has been disconnected).　

i am still tryi…

i am still trying to break the very same
silence that descended upon me
(seven hundred thirty one days ago)
so suddenly and so completely
like a blizzard that consumes
an entire city overnight,
cryogenic preservation in
motionless and pristine white.

a thick layer of snow has
fallen over my mind.
forced into obmutescence,
i persist indefinitely in 
a desperate bid for 
articulation.

i live for the coherent expression
of things that cannot be said. 

i could have drowned.

i was born with blue sky eyes.
you came and you went, and
you left a salt-water green sea
in your wake.

it leaked from my head
like crazy in the beginning.
with time, i’ve learned to
stem the flow.

countless months i spent
establishing a new equilibrium
designed to accomodate your
absence;

now the sight of your face ought to
throw my spinal fluid into disarray.
you are a shock to my system;
for you i would strap myself to the chair.

become an animal.

i want to throw myself down on the floor like an animal and i want to scream. i want to scream everything out of my body. the thoughts inside my head will rush out through my mouth and escape alongside the air in my lungs. thoughts mixed with oxygen mixed with co2 mixed with water vapor and various unavoidable biological substances. i want to scream.

part of me can escape

it was only when i pulled the long sheet of skin from between the blades of the razor that i understood the blood that had fallen to the smooth porcelain of the floor. little red rivers dripped down my ankle and assimilated themselves into the water, swirling and stretching and growing paler before they fell through the drain and out of my sight. and i thought, a solution of blood and water is rushing through the pipes below the city; i move freely beneath the feet of many, diluted and small, i flow through the sewers, into the sound, onward to the ocean. coalescent with the sea, i have become everywhere.