I want this expanded a bit more. If possible.
Can't help but grin to this. So good. So good. Good to see you back in form.
how to disappear completely1.
the only thing more surreal than walking into a mcdonalds after being discharged from a psychiatric facility is listening to the night not-rain after deciding that your life is over. the only thing visible is the lit pole at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the silence of the roof not being pounded by raindrops makes the air that much more colder. the only thing to do is to sit still and try not to think.
the view from the window is moot, nothing but moot strands of weeping willow and a mooting parking lot spilled orange by the setting sun. you decide it's facing north by the way the shadows are stretching and watch a man in a white dress shirt scratch the inside of his nose as he walks to his car. the bed is itchy, the sheets thin and the blanket green and peppered with cloth balls. it's too far away from the window to see anything even if there were anything to see. you sit down and wonder how you ended up playing uno with druggies and staring out locked windows.
existentialism in heaven1. First, we have a lesson in breathing.
(I stutter, and in the back of my head there is a slide and small children are slipping down and losing their lungs, tucking under inside of them, and I came around afterwards and picked up all their organs and buried them inside the tanbark, hid them away in a little box that only I will have, every thought they expelled with their breath and would've liked to keep, and I press my fingers down and they are gathered around me and they say st-st-stutter with their necks like paper cranes for hope and peace and a hopeful mouth. They do not love me.)
She opens up my mouth, peeling back the ridges of my lips with her claws, and she looks inside and peers into some sort of mess and she says I can't sort through this with my hands alone, I can't, and she closes it up and says no, no, that will not do. And she holds her palms against my stomach like twin suns framing my belly-button with her rabbit-colored thumbs and she peers into the hole and wrinkle
The Collapse of the Shoreline.1. Winter
She'd be the perfect girl if her skin didn't break so easily, all pretty lips and splintered legs and peachstone eyes. She might reach out and touch you, but her fingers bend and twist like she's made of cold winters and auburn leaves freezing and rotting under brittle snow.
She bought the idea of old age from a peddler and then let it settle, let it crack its gnarled joints beside the hearth-side of her heart and settle comfortably into her intercostal muscles. But when she presses up against him, her early visitor pounds feeble protestations against her fragile ribs.
He mistook this for butterflies and excitement and then fell in love with the way she looks after he touches her, like chapped lips and seashells. So he suffocated her with the smell of woodsmoke-in-December and warmed her until her blood exploded into steam. He can still smell the arthritis settling in her beautiful bones.
She said, "If you snooze you lose," like bruises, all ove
Describe What We Have, He SaidWhat we have is
a little bit of a fairytale,
a part of a story
and a taste of a slightly star crossed romance;
mixed in a half written sad song
written on pages of blue ink,
carried away in the wind.
it's a little broken,
but it's strong enough
to stand on it's own.
Just like us.
Seared Lungs Sing SweeterSeared lungs sing sweeter,
so burn, baby, burn.
I'm a child of fire.
I yearn, how I yearn!
Don't give me flowers;
I crave gasoline.
Charm has no powers
over this machine.
My bones are matchsticks -
let's turn up the light.
It's time to transfix,
watch me spark the night.
So come, let us burn,
with no time for prayer.
We'll burn, baby, burn
with ecstatic flare.
Let us die tonight,
die a thousand deaths.
While we're burning bright
smoke will be our breaths.
Come, set a fire,
a blazing nocturne,
here in my bier,
and we'll burn, burn, burn
upon a pyre
of deep desire,
glowing like phosphor
in sweetest rapture.
Lover, come closer,
I promise you'll learn
seared lungs sing sweeter,
so burn, baby, burn.
Sister, can you spare me a seashell?I.
Last week she had asked me, "Sister, can you spare me a seashell? This town it is loud, but my thoughts, they are louder. I need to drown them like so many sailors lost in a sudden storm."
I told her that she needed to seek help instead of seashells; they did not hold the ocean and could not drown her thoughts.
Then my frustration melted to see her so suddenly as I had not since we were children, when she would beg, her eyes wide with fear, to check beneath our bed before she could sleep. She was scared of the dark and the darkness never seemed to leave her.
She looked so small as she walked away without the hope she came for and so broken when she paused by the door to say, "but I have tried everything else."
I saw her yesterday,
sleeping in the shallows
with her feet
The Long WayThe long way 'round is all I know,
it has eaten my time, and time has cheated my heart.
It is true that I am night blind and frightened of shadows,
yet, I have found my way back to you.
I have missed your face, and dear god I swear
you look more handsome than when you were young.
Dashing still and dear to me always,
you are my knight in shining armor.
I cry lakes of late, deep enough to drown in,
because you share my feelings.
This should send me flying, defying gravity -
who needs wings of wax when I have you?
Yet, you are tied to someone who is not me,
and her weight pushes me under.
"What bad timing you have,"
you whisper softly,
as I sink slowly down and away.
I swim night blind in the deep,
searching tirelessly for my way back to you.
Will it be the long way this time around?
Not much is clear below sunlight or reason.
All I can say is, "I love you, I love you,"
and hope against hope that you will hear the echo.
My heart is yours; you have made it fearless.
Losing Me To ThisDead air kills me slowly.
I can not imagine what lies beneath the surface,
and what lies are masked by this silence,
heavy as a Southern summer night
in June, when the air is sultry,
and the wind breathes not at all.
But I won't try to unravel his riddle,
because it only makes me bleed out faster.
The beep is a prelude
to the mockery of his voicemail greeting:
"I'm not here to take your call,
leave your name and number
and I will get back to you
as soon as I can,"
but I'm bleeding,
and the tone is not a beep,
it is a bullet,
for I hear:
"I am not taking your calls,
since I know who you are -
I've gone away in search of better
everything and everyone,
and I won't be coming back."
I crash to the floor
there is a crack in the ceiling
that needs to be taken care of,
just as soon as I clear those stars from my eyes
Waking up cold on the kitchen floor,
head splitting, body aching,
crying as I stare at the crack in the ceiling.
He isn't here and he still hasn't called.
Armature ScriptureSometimes my left side tells me
that I'm coming on too strong
like a tidal wave of too good of intentions
and my right side wishes that these
waves would do nothing more but turn
into roses or maybe
or things like romance that float singly
in the air and travel to your lips,
slip into your mouth
fall down your throat
and reside in your lungs
only to be evicted when you decide
to let it all draw out in one long
But be careful what you sigh for
because you could easily float away
and I'm just at a love letter's length
waiting at your door step
with a paper and two pens
just in case one runs out of ink,
so take these words and eat them;
I really am willing to write forever
if it meant you would
to taste every single word
for I am nothing but a poet
and soon you'll have met another
but touch me while I'm here
and I'll stay
I'll ask why
this is why I write
to transcend the syllables,
and the similes like metaphoric smiles
Charity BallsDearest Karen,
I never wanted to be that person, you know. That overly-sentimental, fatherly figure that tells stories from the “good old days” and smokes cigars because he doesn’t really care about getting lung cancer anymore. And I’m sure, wherever you are, you’re laughing your little blonde head off, because you never would have expected it. You married a rebel, and now look at me. I’m normal. I fit in. I go with the flow and it’s ridiculously easy.
It’s also ridiculously boring, you know. I didn’t realize how freaking reliant I was on you to entertain me until, well, you weren’t here anymore. You were always the one who woke up in the morning with buckets of energy, who baked cookies and pineapple-upside-down cupcakes, who made plans for nature hikes and community service. You dragged me out of the house to fundraisers and charity balls, and hell, I’d never even heard of a charity ball until I met you.
Choking on SilenceSilence
Silence and your eyes
to see what I do next
to see how can I embarrass myself further
Maybe I can shout out
how my lungs feel
when you leave
how they tighten within my chest
I can't do this anymore!
I could tell you
how my arms have the burning desire
to hold you
and never let go
It doesn't matter though
why would it matter?
when I see you pulling away
my hands reach out to grab you
but I catch only air
Is it the words I've said?
because I can take them back if you want me to
suck the air back into to my lungs
so maybe they won't be so tight anymore
But no, I start to choke
My heart beating wildly in my chest
because I know I'll never see you again
my body shaking
my mind feels like its caving in on itself
And all of this
you won't let me hear your voice
or see your eyes
are you scared of what I'll find there?
everything you've bottled up and thrown away
When I met you
I think I was in the same place you threw that bottle
and my throat
Under the WorldThe darkness stole my life away,
I used to be the queen of May.
Though I still have some days of light,
more often I am trapped in night.
Listlessly floating as a shade,
while I long for the verdant glade
where wild flowers loved me so,
my face no longer do they know.
These troubles weigh on whitened brow;
my mother can not help me now.
To woe eternal I am lost.
What have I done to pay this cost?
There are no means, there are no ends -
now echos are my only friends.
InsomniaInsomnia has shown me what my dreams can't,
Sleep eludes me and so do you.
My mind won't let me rest, too busy thinking of
what I never say.
All the things I long for won't sleep
and they won't let me.
In these waking hours I'm lost
in a wake of haunting want.
What I have and what I desire never meet
but you're all I'll ever need.
My eyes won't shut and my heart
Insomnia has shown me what my dreams can't,
I need you.
Soldier-boyGo on ahead little soldier-boy
make your mama proud.
Serving your country with loyalty,
your courage knows no bounds.
Keep your head up, soldier-boy,
a cold gun is in your fingers,
and although days have passed,
the memories will always linger.
Keep praying good ol' soldier-boy
as bombs paint across the sky.
Your friends are in a better place
no time for you to cry.
Don't stop moving my brave soldier-boy
the sun has not yet set
the enemy is closing in
one shot is all that's left.
Hold your breath scared soldier-boy
the fiends are at your tail
they'll hunt you down mercilessly
as your mission is marked 'fail'
Close your eyes dear soldier-boy
and pray up to your God.
The pain is building in your chest
and your vision is getting flawed.
It will be over soon sweet soldier-boy
as some bunker down and cry
the fight for you is over
some men were born to die.
Goodbye my brave soldier-boy
your life burned out like an ember.
Your sacrifice wasn't for naught.
And we will always remember.