I thought this was an essay about memory-
I thought this was an essay about memory-
I thought this was an essay about memory-
My mind is flooded flowing
thoughts of you pervade
my head my brain is drowning drenched
in blood you’ve got me
I thought this was an essay about memory-
I thought this was an essay about memory-
My mind is flooded flowing
thoughts of you pervade
my head my brain is drowning drenched
in blood you’ve got me
spinning on my skull. 
Arc II
I’m worried about equality,
God forbid I end up your pet
Sex-driven, ribbon-covered
pistols, much faster than detailed bows
And arrows falling faster
As time passes us by.upper making your upper lip Red. Cling, fall off into absolute Nothing staring back but the ceiling's eight red eyes, recording. Sense is gone, but your hand is surprising like sweat breeze flour touching my arm.
Cavity Filling
What do you mean? I’m writing
I can’t say, think, speak
try to remember why
I’m talking to you
about time
we can’t touch
feel, love, bite, seep
deeper into the cavities
you’ve grown
too sweet
like summer cherries
you’re getting too full
I just wanted a taste
before the August sun begins to burn
my chest will have to settle
in the ash
you left me
bleeding from scraping our knees
against the rough nylon rug
the eclipse in black and white monica on an adventure blows up young daisies existing daisies godard painting mirrors photo shop short cut goodbye jerome banana republic safari wardrobe ice cream cornell cambell film title i cannot read from 1972 grab
the red on your palms
may fade into pink, but will
never stop burning
Arc
They say the flock makes you think you're
God, the combo meal
Never tastes as good as gold
And arches in her back
appear out of nowhere It’s all in your mind,
you tell me,
and believing you,
I let the earth below swallow me whole once again, relinquishing my power to something greater—God, Gravity, Girl beside me—I never want the evening Sun to stop screaming
you tell me,
and believing you,
I let the earth below swallow me whole once again, relinquishing my power to something greater—God, Gravity, Girl beside me—I never want the evening Sun to stop screaming
Buona notte, I hope I hear back, though you're made in China,
so instead of breaking when I step on you, your spindly arms melt into the carpet underneath the drowsy evening sunlight where I left you.
New camouflage for new terrain,
But he always gets lost the same way.
But he always gets lost the same way.
There is a formula to her flight, her survival
Depends on his capture; he covers her scent.
Depends on his capture; he covers her scent.
“When I got back to the room, I caught her scribbling again. She quickly threw her notebook aside and turned back to the mirror in front her, her rouge only applied to her upper lip. ”
She swears I only want her for her looks, but I want us for our looks, and I think that’s quite enough
if I’m to be honest. I couldn’t give a damn whether or not she dresses like a cowboy for Christmas;
everyday we walk in the same pair of panties, that’s a joke, but really, I wish my briefs were thicker.
if I’m to be honest. I couldn’t give a damn whether or not she dresses like a cowboy for Christmas;
everyday we walk in the same pair of panties, that’s a joke, but really, I wish my briefs were thicker.
I wonder if she cares,
sitting in the backseat,
if she cares how strong the pull on my elastic band is when she reaches her palm in.
I can't stop these
little black sugar ants
from crawling up your
skin
sneaking up your leg
as lightly
as cheekbone kisses
the ones you can’t feel
the ones that are harmless
until your body is swarming
with regret
you shouldn’t have
believed you could
dive into a heap of sweets
without making a mess
nectar trickling
off your chin
onto the bed sheets
stained from wine,
good times running from
time
it’s of the essence
you argue
we need to bathe
in pools of plums
and cherries
are just part of an aesthetic
I’m not willing
to give up.
sitting in the backseat,
if she cares how strong the pull on my elastic band is when she reaches her palm in.
I can't stop these
little black sugar ants
from crawling up your
skin
sneaking up your leg
as lightly
as cheekbone kisses
the ones you can’t feel
the ones that are harmless
until your body is swarming
with regret
you shouldn’t have
believed you could
dive into a heap of sweets
without making a mess
nectar trickling
off your chin
onto the bed sheets
stained from wine,
good times running from
time
it’s of the essence
you argue
we need to bathe
in pools of plums
and cherries
are just part of an aesthetic
I’m not willing
to give up.
Baby presses tongue
and tooth into tough tendon
(soft neck) then pulls back
slurps and swallows.
and tooth into tough tendon
(soft neck) then pulls back
slurps and swallows.
““yea, it kinda sucks that we have to be physical beings”
Walks back to the kitchen, sips from the faucet, gets her tongue dirty.
“You weren’t really listening, were you” I call back, then whisper to myself, “this bitch””
we leave the shabby flat forever
sip tea at her place and climb into
a 6ft bed. i melt into place like
ecstasy sugar
on my tongue in my coffee
without me knowing, she slips
out of bed and watches
my unsteady breathing chest bare throat slit
by sharp light peeking in through the blinds.
sip tea at her place and climb into
a 6ft bed. i melt into place like
ecstasy sugar
on my tongue in my coffee
without me knowing, she slips
out of bed and watches
my unsteady breathing chest bare throat slit
by sharp light peeking in through the blinds.
Pancakes have too many carbs anyway, I try to explain, frantically scraping the black and crusted iron from the disfigured pan into the XL HEAVY DUTY garbage bag I left by the sink, its empty top half huffed over its belly like an old fart. Between shifting my head back and forth from her to the little landfill on the floor, I check my watch and see that breakfast has turned into brunch, and realize that soon I need to act, but like always, I just think; Not to worry, I’ve still got something up my sleeve. And determined to please, I nudge my way between the counter and the back of her chair, her chest pinned into the edge of the dented nickel table, and make my way over to the yellowing refrigerator door to stretch my neck inside and plop out the last source of protein. As I turn around to ask her, cleverly, how do ya like your eggs, I dip my heel into a dollop of banana-filled batter and start to dance to her humorous appeal once again.
Living in Palm Beach summer ‘04
Waterguns are for boys and
steel wool is too expensive
to liberate like baby hair
Alyssa, and maybe the others,
must stay inside away from the pool
but I’m bored
so I guess I’ll shoot myself.
It’s not much fun, but I can’t pay for an 8-year-old’s extensions.
Waterguns are for boys and
steel wool is too expensive
to liberate like baby hair
Alyssa, and maybe the others,
must stay inside away from the pool
but I’m bored
so I guess I’ll shoot myself.
It’s not much fun, but I can’t pay for an 8-year-old’s extensions.
