There is danger
In not recognizing
The line-
Whether or not
It’s life and blood
Or death and happiness-
That bell
Always rings too soon
For me
And I’m left grasping
At the memory of you-
Fading into the gray-
The fog of that morning.
The chill
That’s forever
Embedded into this flesh
That I carry around
Like pockets I’ve forgotten.
An end like that-
There’s no recovering.
Not when you
Continually
Throw your heart
Onto the floor.
Forgotten by your throat
And every piece of logic
That you once had known.

I’m lost
And you feed on it-
Find the energy
To regain
The control.
You thought you had me-
Thought that laughter
And promises of love
Would be enough
To devour me.

Oh, please. Go home
And do your research.
Spill your blood
And let me see
The lies
Hiding on the inside of your wrists
And so afraid to get wet.

Awareness is only as good
As the eyes that are seeing
And I’m beginning to think
I was born dead
Into a soul
Who loves humanity.
In the fact of flesh and lust.
These demons that hang on my neck
May be hidden
From some eyes
But my heart feels their regret
Like a hard rock-
Frozen in time
And more determined to create more.
The only positive nature
That has rooted in me
Is turning the sorrow
Into energy
But for how long does the run last?
The flowers die
And rot
And soon this body will follow.
There’s no hope in tomorrow
With a soul like that.

I begin to think
That you’re the more humane one.
Your process of elimantion
Is swift. Quick.
Shameful, your partners
May find themselves
But at least that moment’s over.
My serpent’s tail
Hasn’t found a way to be revealed
At least not in a one single motion
It’s more of a subconscious
Plan of attack
With success building every time.
My victims find themselves
Truly that- the consequence
To a series of made up emotions
Cleverly played out
Like Shakespeare’s pen-
Everyone dead at the end.

Fascinating
The lies told, spun of truth
There’s laughter
In the unknowing-
The sparring in dark.
Light doesn’t receive us all-
The innards
Too cloaked with practiced humanity.
We teach ourselves
To help others
And hate others
Coveting
Everything but ourselves
And we don’t see
How it changes slowly.
Beckoning
And overwhelming
The revolving of water
Is the only comfort-
The consistency without pattern
And yet we’re too weak
To just turn over and live
Left to die in dust-
The anger that we think
Is another’s
We can’t find blame in our own eyes.

We’re the self-images of tiny gods.
Little and less powerful with each waking breath.

There’s nothing more to say
About the pleasures of my flesh-
That story has been told
And rewritten multiple times.
Each ending is particularly
Unsatisfying
But I doubt that that’s the point.
I’ve been told it’s in the journey=
Those words often spoken
By heart’s who still beat-
Have the stale taste of blood.
I could never
Commit to that-
The recycling
And ever motion of forever.
But I’ve dreamt of it,
Desired the taste
And spilt childish blood and hours
Dreaming over the possibilities
Of the closure.

The closure of the animalistic self
And beginnings
Of what the society dictates
As acceptable.
Created from dust or evolved beyond monkeys.
The end result is still the same
The earth consumes us all
Regardless of the number of days
Spent in men.

It’s that pretty face kinda thing-
That draws them in.
Makes them conveniently forget.
Yet years later
It’s the first thing they bring up-
How it was i
That crushed them
And took their souls-
Their hearts-
Like I was some kind of demon
That had tricked them into a deal.
How their loss had consumed them
And forced them into a healing
That they couldn’t let go of.
Their possibilities now seemed hopeless
And a lil more gray
Than the life
They had once pictured.
A suffering
Of their own choice
That they’d never forgive themselves for
But continuously fall in love with.

I remember the beginning
The sign
And too much Jack-
The night
I can’t quite remember.
Your wife and lovers
And the routine
We seemed to have
Fallen into.

I’m sure we tried once
To go for coffee.
I’m not upset-
Conversation isn’t my strong point-
And I’d rather be
Pressed up against you
Than discussing the future
Or whether or not
Either one of us
Has siblings.
Your flesh is all that has ever
Appealed to me
And the vagueness of your eyes
Dark with lust
Is the only promise I want.

My flesh craves you-
I feel your distance
And know it’s just miles-
That in every other sense of it.
You’re residing in my body.
My mind lingers-
Reminds itself of your heartbeat
And my soul
Cries out
So desperate
For your touch.

This is not love
Or fairy tales.
There’s never been
That sense of awkwardness
Between us.

Just need and satisfaction-
I’ve never needed that hello kiss
And the empty promise of forever.
And I wonder
If you’d ever wanted more.

I’ve put you in a box.
Labelled you
And have sectioned off
A part of myself
Where I’ll let you live.
I’m not a fool
Especially when the past
Has already dictated it-

Long nights of dancing
And too much alcohol-
And too much awake
The next day-

No one calls until darkness
And my honesty
Being found quite undignified.

I enjoyed the rush
The emptiness in your touch
And the headache in the morning.
Knowing full well
We never connected
Even though one flesh
Just devoured the other.

Strange, it is now
Conversations and carefully placed words-
I can lean into you and find comfort.
And find myself
Smiling. Wanting classifications to be wrong,
But knowing that they’re right.
And there’s not a black line big enough
To erase the history
That will keep repeating us.

The cup is lifted-
There’s more to be done
More to be rehearsed.
I can’t make more excuses for you
And I can’t wait any longer-
This dance was exhausting enough
And now even more boring alone.
Who was I to think that I wanted more-
The flesh of another to keep beside me,
In bed and affairs
That I thought I ought to keep going.
There’s promise in the night
And rings of vows and circles of despair.
Waking up just once more
I find that the stick
Was something I threw with passion
And I never needed
A stone to keep me warm.

Who knows this next step.
The journey is not one planned
Even if it is over-thought.

The grasp of the rose’s thorns are great
But I’d rather a plant
That could feel the rain.
And I would not choose to watch
All that beauty rot.

Is there a mistake in my spelling
Or has your meaning already left
With your too big shoes
And no promise
Of another night?

Overcompensating
I may be
But the mirror
Tells many lies of me

And I’m not one to be caught
With something resembling a heart
No matter how highly valued that organ is.

I’m worried about
Losing my edge
Actually wanting
That fairy tale
In the end.
Life was first
And I’ve had it.
The prince and even princesses.
Sex. Drugs. Snow globe worlds.
Alcoholism and addictions-
A few botched suicides
And a miscalculated abortion.
I surgically removed myself
From the life
And now I’ve got nothing to prove
(mostly because I didn’t bother
Keeping any evidence of it all).

The suitcase is all packed
And there’s plenty of time
For me to keep looking back-
Regret is something
That I don’t find clinging to my skin,
Instead a healthy reminder of oxygen
Floating within my blood stream
While I search for another stone to throw
And soon forget.

There’s not much
That I haven’t said-
Haven’t resorted to
Tried to lie with.
You can be astonished
Or surprised.
I, personally, just wouldn’t waste the time.

But then,
I’ve had years
To get to know my skin-
As it ages
And refuses to break
At another’s whim.

It’s not that I’m honored in that-
More amused
At how appalling
Some of my scars can be
To those who fell in love
With the princesses
The fairies- magical.
Beautiful-
They all think me to be.
Mothers. Daughters.

They’d never pause
To check the sink for blood
Pills. Drugs. Candy.

Pieces of hearts and perhaps my liver
Found fragments stuffed in hat boxes
And left to be sorely forgotten-
Long ago trodden
And served beside cake.