lice

free spirit.
nordic philanthropist.
dissolving eyes
pulling beneath icy sheets.
pulls at my retinas.
wrings out my arteries.
and i and you
plays softly on in some sick lethargic fashion
while you ride escalators to dreams bigger than the both of us.
while i sit, erroding beneath your keeper.
the one that braids your hair and washes your laundry.
up here is poison.
up here with benevolence and regret
acting out of loneliness.
down there where they are right and make no decisions.
down there where love truimphs and you exchange wedding rings.

lorne.

sitting alone in a dark vial of preference.
the clouds are stilted,
the dead leaves float down, fluttering like moths.
grey exceeds this smile.
she returns to her rightful place beneath the surface.
where catastrophes go to sleep.
where catalysts go to pray.
you're standing somewhere beside a sinking mirror.
and i cry out to steadfast,
i pour blood to its deities, so i could have you next to me.
but these sweaty palms are constantly letting go of everything it grows fond of.
i thought somewhere between last night and the year it is today, i could find you.
that maybe the name of the disease would bring understanding.
but who understands what a name means.
i look down and i know i'm loosing you.
before the roads even have a chance to move.
agoraphobic, pathologic.
isolation dwells in ovaries.
far from the lampoid.

/close./

daphne

sitting under a depthless tree
in the midst of summer deportation hearings.
somewhere between the thick air and the ground,
summer is heaving around us..
lifeless, incapable of being able to lift myself from the dredges of humidity,
from the absence of your being.
leaving the city made things comfortable,
and its quiet at night now.
nothing disturbs the way the old zones did.
not the sounds of bars howling
not the flipping of locks from the inhabitants of doors adjacent.
somewhere you found me,
lost beneath the pavement
crying, for a destitute shoulder
a lover, another broken fetus.
the wounded of the earth,
suffering in silence.
who are we to sit here despondent, until the day we inevitably expose the other for the failure that wears bruised flesh and organic cotton.
i still wonder if you're out there..
when i stare at the skyline beyond the trees here.
the skyline that i once craddled beneath torpedo windows.
somewhere amongst the culminations of crimson light and parking tickets floating to the heavens.
i stare out past the train tracks here.
i listen to songs from powderlipped tombstones from the seventies,
whilst southern crunk rolls by.
whilst glasses break.
the world denotes your origin and instead presses upon me something much more collaborative.
wine socials and medical bills.
this state wants me to pick out china patterns and floss a little baby's teeth.
this state has accusations and perscriptions for my hostilities.
the abnormality of all things private.
but inbetween the stiffness in my neck and the constant conotations to vomit.
i think there might be something here.
beyond the nearly naked hipsters.
where you're vowless.



/close./

cabbage.

suddenly guilded
by height
times
when two perfect
broken
souls collide
it was here
where i lost you
here
where i threw you
something came up
creeping
dissolving ambitions
and anxieties alike
you were just as broken
atrophied
pardoned
then forgotten
two gentle
storms
disillusionists
liars for every occassion
deserted
lifted
giving up rotten teeth
presenting
aluminum gifts of ash
and soot
i found you
rotting beneath the pier
i touched your forehead
and you came to
life
/close./

these eyes that salute you.
with songs like, death and her
young, guillontined wings that hang between the poem's fermented tear drops..
trying to break noose.
it won't spark their mundane interest.
you bargain collectives to make fading into the numbness less of a catch all.
with the lump in your throat, and the introverts summoning fears under the table..
pills in hand.
you wave like bits of paper abandoned by trashcans.
you wave, calling all stakes off your crowd.
there's this kind of defiantness that comes over me when i watch you.
where's always that first joy, and then the alledged source but then she is scaling herself into my peripheal.
can't you just let it go.
you were, who you'll be.
who are you trying to impress?
when you're standing on the brink of death and no one's blowing either eay.
get up and decide this.
piece by piece you wither.
while they all sit around eating yogurt.
you wish you could sift down,
somewhere beneath the empty bedrooms.
somewhere safe, where you can't love him.