.love like thunder;make yourself known
.i remember the springwhen you did not growand our arms unfurledfor no one
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.your heart is a houseand i am screaming atthe front door
.dig lifejust to get buried
.a motherstripsthe sheetsfrom her earth -red as dying
.i keep wearingmy skinlike an old wornjacket and jeans,stitchedover andover again
.i feel in a languagei don't understand,and the wings of the bird in my kitchen, theywon't get to feel the sky anymore -and sometimes doesn't it feel good?to put two fingers round the neckof a flower andsnap,hear the petals scream fortheir withering limbs,then start choking(instinct)
.in the bodyof a dead womani am aliveand kicking
.the rabbits twitchin their sleep;they dreamof red bitten neckswet with spit,the birds dream of their eggscrackedand runny -the mice dream of hearingthat tabby cat screamas the teeth of life ripitwide open
.she saysexplain these thingsto me -i say the silence sort of ticks - my sadnesshas a face, think blue, think black and grey, think sanguinered, the end of may, he had a pulse too strongfor me to take,i killed it, stripped it bare, i carried it rightto it's grave - i say andmy lungs, they feel like frost, they're filled with silverlight and sharpness, rattling pips, a scream - i stayedinside my bed for weeks, i didn't eat, i didn'tdream - i think in fire, flame, volcano,resurrect you, keep your nameinside me like a splinterturning green(i could not bring myself to say yes, but i think you know that)
.i wokeon theedgeof nothing,one armdanglingover theledge(numb from the wrists down)
.he pointsto a crucifixon the left sideof his necktells me he can end allof your suffering -and i look at himand i cross my arms, thinkinghe can't even do this
.sometimes faith slowlyprises open our ribsdecides to slip outquietlyand unseen
.my grandfather died last nightand i sat on the roof for three hoursand i feltand i feltand i wroteand i wroteand theni bit the nightand the night, it bit me backand i criedand todayi am still feelingand todayi am still writingand nowi have madea decision;i am lettingmy mindoff it's leash(i'm going to let my mind chew right through me)
.half my life sitsin this waiting room,dust on the spikeplant so thick that itfeels like grey velvet,i prod my fingersonto the sharp tips,as i sitwith a two week cleanjunkie who saysthis is terrible(i sign in, but i never sign out)
.green childrenforce themselvesup and outof their beds -the sun smiles,and reaches downto embrace them
.know this; i loved the fireand i walked into it willingly, heavenis not up above but deeper down below(there is a snake with the world in its belly, eat it; you are a killer the same)
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
clipped wingsI wonder if gods fear dying.
succubusNemesis likes to play fair,and I respect her for that.if I stab out your eye,you're welcome to stab out mine.and when we chat about "equality,"we sometimes work around the word,taking quiet bites to miss the rotten spots.no one understands untilthey taste the grainy blacknessrubbing on the roof of their mouth.no one understandsunless it happens to them.so, when she speaks her mind,she's a bitch,and nobody loves a bitch.the truth is,nobody loves when their punching baglearns to punch back;suddenly the game isn't fun anymore.and we're reduced to that one word,"bitch,"reduced tothat feminist with the wordsmen roll their eyes to.now we've truly sunk,getting on their level,clawing like cats,drawing bloodbut not raising wages,not preventing rape,not fixing anything.they are childrenwith their palms pressed over their ears.they want me to be robotic, a fleshysex-doll for them to fuckwho has tits and no brain,and I've screamed myself hoarsebut all I've lear
.she'll hold him tight tonightand dread the coming mo(u)rning
I'm in love with a painterYou are the painter who streaks rainbows onto my lungs,who stains chalks onto my rib cage.And every time I see youI get so o u t o f b r e a t h.(G.L)I'm in love with a painter
teethmy mother used to say,"never fall in love with somethingthat can leave you behind."now I understand, now I knowthat humans were given legs for a reason,that moving onis a state of mind on migration.tell me,if I told you I loved you,would you cut out my tongue?I can still hear your voice when you saidyou could never love anyone else,and now all I can think isliarliarliar.
.she never carried enough oilto keep her own life burning
CoffeeI want to go outAnd drink coffee.Talk about lifeAnd kiss you.But that is silly isn't it?I don't like coffee much.I'll just buy some for youSo I can watch you smile.Then lets dance and laugh becauseIt's an amazing feeling to be loved.
.i disappearinto love