how to healthey say honeyto soften the wound, but i let the woolwet with ethanolgnawuntil i amweeping,again, and again,and again
i haven't forgottentell me, boywho is your god.do not say itis the limbsthat spread youbetween knowingand comfort;do not tell me it ishands wrapping a headboard, nor a mouthtugging your namefor salvation.i want to know who it isthat makes you lucent,bent beneath the dark,weeping,because there is no divinitylike the one that makesyou bleed
fidelic whore-- this is appropriationmy sweet synchronicity ,i have downed your appetitein a bed of front teeth (it is morning in perthmidnight in dublin, and the noonsun has been lost behinda dress of mothy curtains)do i taste ofyour forethought of love making;do i reek ofthe weeds that have infiltratedthe posture of your spine?-you bend overmy lap a curve of guiltand weep all night.i collect each knob of your bodylike a gift. press it to my mouth.swallow, spit.
i and youwho is it thatyou dream of?is it mewith the knife in your back;do you see methe woman witha wolf jawcut slack in a growl?do i pounce you?do you defeat mewith the knifei gave you?and i wonder the soundof me when you finally put your demonto rest--she is a venus(her body cut fromthe ivory tusk with hips like that of a valley, breasts shaped astwo moons caught inher breath)and i am the trapshe slips into.i cut her headinto a loop land wear her round my necklike lace.
thankheaven for books,and mulatto boys thatbreak my heart; thank god for vodka andthank god for urges that slither into deep throatspast better judgement and thank god for his handsthat he lovedme with
note 59burning it was somuch better thanletting it burn me
note 32 i am so terrified
KATRINALIVES A MILEfrom the sea.she is sallow as a beach.she smells like rain,or a wet earth,with pale hair clippedbehind her headwith pins.she feels as though her hairwould be black. but it isbrown, sometimesand sometimesit is colorlessblonde.KATRINAGIVES MY STOMACHa fight.she doesn't speak.she is silence.i speak at her, mostlyand her eyeslook as thoughthey've been pluckedfrom a lynxto replaceher own.they are blue around the edgesthe deep blue you findat the edge of the sea,if you've been out that far.at the center they are greenlight like a riptide.they tug you in.unmoving, and calculatingwith audacity.KATRINAi said to someone once,gave me head.she didn't.her hands are too far duginto the coast of spainfor her to reach me,far too eagerfor my composure.she'd suck me drylike her mothers didthe caspian sea,like the fields of saharaonce lush with green.she is a barefoot girl.she moans like the shorefrontin the dead of night.i've made love to
a love letteri couldn't sleep. there are a lot of things on my mind, and i kept tossing, trying to fling the feelings from me, but they wouldn't leave, so i said to myself, "i'm going to write my fucking heart out, and it's going to feel much like getting slammed by a bus or a train, that immense crash and pain and blackness and the confusion after the hit (do you tumble, crack your head on the pavement or do you die, right there?)" and this is how this letter will go.i'm scared of losing you. shit scared. i go to bed at night, sure that i have you here, somewhere, whether in my mind or in my heart and i wake up and i can't breathe and god i feel like i've really lost you somewhere, in my dreams or my actions or words unsaid. and god, you don't know what it is like to have a person like you missing from a bitter thing like me. i need you. i am coffee, black and roasted and hard to swallow but you make it so easy. you are my sugar, sweet thing, constant love and nothing else. you make me okay. you
you can't have the world.i never meant to make youhate me; i only wantedyou not tolove me.
hauntedour house is hauntedmemories floating like ghostsscreaming without sound
The DarknessImmortality is wasted on the youngbut fortune has chanced me eldest.I was the beginning, and will be the end.Darkest, truest, endless.
contactwould it be possibleto grow so comfortable withanother person'sskin,that distancewould feel like tearing off your own?
things that go bump in the nightabsence makes the heart a monster.
immatureI am in love with youin the way that childrenare in love:incompletely, sporadically,self-consciously.you appear to meas every adult appearsto a child:faultless, omniscient,unendingly generous and honestand kind.and, as must happento every child,I will lose my god:the slightest human errorwill cause you tofall
.i.the high is at itsbest when i can't remember why i hated myself.ii.death is a nightmare only when i realize youare not in the dream.
Sticks and StonesThey say words can never hurt you.Silence does a better job.
.is it worse tohear a truth,or give oneto tell a lie,or live one
,i used to part my hair down the middle,but then i stoppedwhen i was twelvebecause innocencewas heavy,or something likethat.besides,we all have to grow up,don't we?
ScepticismTearfully, God played dead.
I am afraid of monsters like you.Bones and sinew clingto the part of methat is not human,the part of me thatis yours.Your lips are readyto pounce mine whenyou lace my neck withthe collar of hope.It hangs too tightly.
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.
on moving outI take my bookends. I take my whiteboardand that crooked letter opener I use to pop the caps offbeers, I take my poems,I take my brand-new never-used coffeemakerand my decades-old over-used typewriter which weighsabout 6 babies. I take my pictures, and those lettersyou wrote me;I do not take you. I take thePS2. and the broken lamp. and yourpuked-on, bleached-overshirt. I take no shit.[no shitbut my own shit.]I take a blanket,my good underwearand a deck of cards.I take my cat.I burn the rest.
pine cone heart. it is 9:36 on a Tuesday night. i don't know if it's still snowing, but i do know it's cold and my palms are covered in a thin layer of sweat. slowly, it eats away at my epidermis like a parasite. soon i will be nothing more than skeletal muscle and a decaying pericardium. i think this is beginning to happen already, this disintegration. it began five minutes and thirty seven seconds ago when i realized two things: you will never love me. i will love you all the same. our timelines were never meant to connect, not really. there was just that second-long contact, a chance, a lifetime in my eyes. i keep replaying that moment again and again. i don't remember what you were wearing, how your hair looked, the way your smile looked. no; all i can recall is how your skin felt on your forearm, the sound of a marker against flesh. i realize that that is all we will be: a fleeting smile. a promise to keep in
on being savedi am sorry youhave never known salvationfrom another's touch