the rise

racing through veins, blood bubbles from the heat 

a drum beat steam rises from the skin and through the air

inhale

exhale

it is inescapable

these movement were ingrained centuries ago

where under some native moon

sex, still wild and  transcendent 

gave way to rhythm creatures

born into frequency and vibration

gyration as an art

an art not so removed as to be

placed upon canvas, hung in musty rooms

gawked at by the still and serious

rather, pure and hypnotizing

residing in the blood and bone

deep in my DNA lies the scene

of that first passionate night under the stars

under the spell of the universe where it was born

this is more than movement

these are exotic attempts at reenacting and revitalizing

wild and lascivious beauty

of seducing the past for connection

of exorcising the insipid routine

of the stiff and sterile

from the future

the big chill

if there is anything left of me after these changing leaves

if this winter does not leave me on my knees

if the memories wane and fade and bury themselves beneath the trees

I will stretch out and scream somewhere in the summer breeze

and I will start to breathe easily

 

but for now

the ghosts still pace up and down the hall 

 shuffling their boots in a cruel reenactment of sound

they are invisible and cold as I pretend to fall 

asleep, leaving space in my bed for a love I’ve never found

 

there is not enough whisky to warm this chill in my bones

and this isn’t the time to begin throwing stones

because these seasons aren’t stopping

the night precedes the dark

the years keep getting shorter

and you’re never coming back

 

so I sink in my chair

under the weight of the world

and I nurse my pain

under the influence of something surreal

I no longer have shame

only history, only me

just this dusty TV, this phrase, this key

and these memories, oh these memories

take them from me winter trees and grow back your leaves

let this winter end quickly

let me breathe easily

Winter Muffins

This is honesty

the first snowfall spent baking muffins

the cat is asleep on my shoulder and I thought of it only once

only quickly while the shell broke I cringed at it’s frailty

the destruction was so easily executed, so carelessly nonchalant

I identified with you and just as quickly forgot

oh, how nurturing the subconscious can be

 

the warm vibration on my shoulder 

began to weave its way through electric air

and as I stood trapped in a web of simple bliss 

inhaling cinnamon and spice

I thought of it no more

 

Stepping outside to see the impact

I stood barefoot in the freezing snow

clenching my makeshift apron, feeling the muscle in my hands

I relished in their strength and that of countless predecessors

smeared with batter, submerged in self,  unafraid 

to risk frostbite for the sake of exhilaration

contemplating my position on the timeline, 

feeling my body tremble in the wind

I disappeared into the universe

 

the cat was scratching at the door

I stepped back into myself

into the warmth

retrieving the muffins

and not once contemplating

my head inside the oven

this is truth

Run

I’ll decorate my eyes, just leave the lips bare ’cause 

Seduction still startles me and they’re not drawn to the flair

Try to scare them away, but trapped you right in

It might seem like a conquest but I know where I’ve been

My skin shows some secrets, but my head is for me

You can try to get in but it won’t come for free

I behave in public, I smile and twirl 

But those moments between in my own little world

There is room just for me and the dusty debris

the sickness, the dialogue, memory:

he laughed and he fleed

 

This makes me uneasy, I dodge window to floor

You sense that I’m home, say you want to explore

“I’m obviously hiding, I seek no exposure”

You sang “Come out right now, you’ll never get closure

if your days are spent hiding and  your nights are spent writing

just stop it, just run now and never stop running

unless it’s toward me because you are quite stunning.”

 

So I ran and I ran, and I felt something growing

Can’t remember where I came from, don’t know where I’m going

I forgot his voice, but I remember your words

Now I know who I am and I like what I heard

If you are still there, I’ll assume you’re sincere

Maybe I’ll try to impart, you’ll settle left of my heart

Still leery, still jaded, but at least it’s a start

Safe

Was my misery your peeve? Did my rapture make you leave?

Was I too much of a threat? With blackened eyes and cigarettes

Did I contradict your mother’s frame? Did my eccentricities bring you shame?

I was a secret in the dark you chose not to embark

Your insurmountable wall made me a stranger after all 

If this was what you needed, the safety of the island pull 

If this is what you wanted, your eyes behind the wool

If this is what I couldn’t be, the picture perfect smile

I challenge you to revel in nostalgia for a while

Not the history you created, not the stories she has told

Not the darkness of my bedroom, but the center of our soul

Did you bother to take notice?

Did you ever see my spark?

Because this raging fire found it’s oil, the flames engulf the bark

 

But you settled into safety, with the lessons I had taught

Stripped of the deeper meaning, with me no longer intervening

You’ve become another face among the crowd

You’ve done your family proud

How does it feel to become a statistic?

Simplistic.

 

Maybe this is what you needed, its just sad to see it die

That part of you that laid behind the iris of your eye

The energy from your chest that pierced straight into mine

The passion that I thought you had, the odds you thought you’d defy

Goodbye, goodbye

 

One day you will wake up in your sterile, charming home

Kiss your wife, head to work to which your life you have bestowed

Smile sweetly in denial until you’re ready to explode

And wonder what you could have been if you took the other road

grey love

there is a chest beneath my breasts

within it lies a ticker, a graceful bomb

funny, isn’t it?

the intricacies of the human heart never seen beneath the flesh

skin more exploited than love on Valentines Day

makes us shove ourselves in wonder bras and expect a meaningful connection

or at least flowers for a day

 

but we do not love with our heart, anyway

shall we recall the boxes and change their shape?

Fill them with chocolate and give the credit where credit is due?

or blame, shall I say?

this wrinkled mass of grey that plucks and prods

at the armor of self preservation

and nudges us into love, laughing at our frailty

 

love, what a vile notion

what an inevitably flawed conquest

we break like glass and fiend for more

the ultimate addiction

I’m a junkie for this shit, the soft skin of another, the everlasting gaze

the illusion of fate

 

maybe we should love with our bodies, love like men

leave organs to pump and sustain while we guide it in, emotionless 

while we devour flesh, unashamed

perhaps we should lobotomize ourselves at puberty

smile sweetly, open our legs

and move forth quickly toward another

 

It is too late for me

this brain, this home away from home

is comfortably in control

this dwindling body takes a shape 

more aesthetically pleasing than previous years

and the gawking eyes seem lifeless and unpromising

a scene familiar and too painful to repeat

 

so I will look for x-ray specs

burning eyes and frantic flesh

pacing, chasing, heart racing

a fellow junkie of this ridiculous drug

who has succumbed to cerebellum

and therefore loves wildly 

beyond the continuous pale

and straight through the flesh

fatalistic

oh, how did bitterness spring from such as seemingly virtuous and true

between lips and tongue laid words overdue  

instead you opened the door, let the bitter cold seep through

and your greedy fingers grasped the closest new

while my empty hands turned blue

what a waste to throw it all away in haste

what a horrible mistake

 

but your mouth is wide now

with smiles conjured under the spell of another vow

I could not have more graciously taken my bow

and left you to your translucent love

 

what is this love I write of

so quickly overlaid upon ours

how can I understand the precedence and the powers

that has left me here among the flowers?

that sprung from where we laid to rest under the soil

where you refused to see what was blooming from our toil

 

what is this ache I can not shake?

what is this hate that does not allow me to think straight?

why have you run so quickly toward something so void?

why did you allow this to be destroyed?

 

these questions maintain but they are all in vain

you have gone, you’ve withdrawn

and settled into something more simplistic, materialistic

she’s equally sadistic, narcissistic

I, more of a mystic, and never one for realistic

was obviously too idealistic

you were always antagonistic

it was fatalistic

dive bomb

did you consider if death was a valid claim

before it teetered on your bottom lip

and plummeted directly into my morning tea?

or did it swirl around your tongue

long enough to taste the irrationality?

 

I can no longer stomach void grievances

fully aware

of the brittle bones draped in wounds and filth

that I do nothing about

except pencil into my life

then put off until…

 

ripping off blankets, slamming feet

grunting at the sight of another day

like a child’s tantrum on the cold wood floor 

poked, prodded, and polished

to ensure the utmost safety for our precious toes

 

maybe if we felt the grains it would keep us grounded

pulling splinters each morning

emphasizing what we’re made of

as the blood trickles and dives 

 

perhaps then I could swallow my tea

without patrolling my cup

for dive bombings of nihilism  

or defeatist remarks

girl

the girl slipped again

eyes wide and burning the horizon

a blank stare that consumes and conceals

then fades without clarification

 

he must be going now

but he’ll be back when the smoke clears 

re-emerging from the ash with gifts and promises

a possible phoenix among pigeons

 

but he had felt the fire before

relentless in its consumption

and forcing fabricated offerings

to snuff the flames around his feet

 

you can’t really blame him, after all

it’s self preservation in the end

a simple scientific theory could explain

why her nights are spent in recluse

and her days are spent sleeping

 

but with life in her eyes its hard to understand why

disconnected from the mania

she’s beautiful

heart open and blossoming 

with petals and seeds she arranges for offering

 

regardless

the fire will remain in the pit of her stomach and the base of her skull

the ebb and flow of delirium

is an inexplicable sensation

 

but even with sparks in her eyes she’s beginning to see the truth

she’s worth the heat and tangible through smoke

if love is an action

and not a reaction

peephole

she’s the kind that spreads her legs for ‘art’
claiming innocence with rosary and prose
forced angelic with bleach and powder puff
i can feel the rise in men and it disgusts me
a slut in vintage frock 

the panorama through a peephole is impressive
safely hidden in the middle of it all
can’t help but wonder if this stealth is a gift
or if ignorance is a conscious decision

while i shrink with fists of fruit, juice dripping to my elbows
i wonder if i will resent the glare 
when the flesh melts with scarring vulnerability
or will i offer beverages with manipulation in mind?

hospitality was never my strong suit
get your own fucking drink, sir
your girlfriend is home carving herself
eyeball plastered to the hole
turn the car around now
and repent

sometimes intent
cuts deeper than action
and purity
is bullshit