I wish I could say

that when he left the pieces of him tied strings around me

and I had to cut them one by one

until I could stand on my own

I really wish I could say

that he burned me down

and I had to bloom from the ashes like a finger tattooed Phoenix

but I threw the zippo

into his tall straw body

and I laid the gasoline


I am a Thermophile

I think he should be too


water is boring

until you are denied it

then a drop feels like drinking straight from the hose

in the middle of a heatwave

love does not have to be comfortable

it can be a forest fire

when you really love something

do not let it go

set it on fire

and let it rebuild itself stronger

sad music is gasoline on the fire

I have a war inside my eye that

feeds my mind and the drops I cry while

I’m hiding wasted and


the drip in my brain that’s roasting the veins in

my legs while I’m starving tasteless and


these chimes in my ears that

have been ringing for years I’ve

been pumping the white noise through

to make it clear


I’m hiding wasted starving tasteless and



her heart wasn’t steady

a ship in a storm

your constant tugging of doubt

porcelain in versace heels

shining and talking politely

medication and daddy issues

is this what could have been?


dress never wrinkled

reasonably educated

a muse for your artistic endeavours






shes falling and

grasping on bodies and trying to get back up

tripping and slipping and

holding onto the warmth of blood to blood


spaced out

close to death

close to pain

raw throat

wishing she could go back to those times

slamming on the cement

in the bathroom you are trying to stop her

knuckles bruised

bleeding and blacking out and bleeding

not back there

she cannot go back there

you wont have it


matters are tough

and feelings  are sharp

shallow pangs

you feel nothing

she is rotting

flies on the meat

swirling and feasting





Inflatable dreams at needle point aching to be popped

The angry pro stitchers fingers are getting sweaty grasping at the tiny needle

Their milk crates are dented from constant pressure and continued sitting


Thick dreams at night with orgies and oozing glitter

The stiff buttons are hard to press

Yet so satisfying to touch

And take-out fries are never the same as crisp virgin ones

Mouths salivating at the thought

Anxiety builds and the glitter orgy ends


Run your hands on the picnic tables getting as many slivers as you possibly can

Slur your words from the pain of the wood chips embedded in your skin

Wooden floors drip with blood

An endless search for the first aid kit

Iced hands that feel as heavy as blocks of wood


Those cigarettes are eaten for 20 dollar bills and the party begins to pick up

Grayscale nights with a bossy little personality to match

Crisp floating memories weighing heavy on your chest

your head

and your back

Cricket Dream Land

In the beginning I was shy and bashful,

Not knowing what I wanted or what you knew.

We were quiet and in love,

The  symphonic sounds of crickets and frogs at night in the hayloft,

I had my first drink with you.

I kissed you and it felt amazing,

Your neck kisses made me so warm.



Now I hate sleeping alone and being alone,

and thinking alone.

Who will I tell when I cant breathe,

I cant breathe now.

I am repressing thoughts of you but they scatter the city.

We have spent years together,

I’m drinking again.


I really don’t know why I did it so fast.


I feel sick and I cannot eat,

I toss in my sleep only waking to think of a moment we shared and cry.

I wear the bracelet you gave me and I cannot take it off.

I feel your touch on my skin and I want to hold your hand,

I know the memories of your touch will fade and I will have nothing left.

I know your body better than you do,


Is this really best for any of us,

We were fine,

We got in some fights but we still loved,

We have different personalities but we still loved.

And yet we both long for the hypothetical love of another,

What, are we suppose to meet another and everything will change ?

We will have all this perspective and knowledge,

Perhaps that won’t happen,

But if it does I want you to know you own my heart,

As stubborn as we both are we have to admit that we learned a lot from each other.


I hate to write as if it is over,

I don’t want to type it,

It would make it real.

I want to live in the cricket fantasy land,

Live a thousand years in your loft.

Surrounded by movie posters, sleeping bags, and your body.

I want to live in a daze.

A fever dream,

But that can’t happen and we have to come to reality.


I love you,

I love you,

And thats why it hurts.

In the end I’m cold and vain,

Not knowing what I want,

Quiet and out of love.