It was beating itself
against the glass,
it didn’t understand
why
it couldn’t get through.
I was trying to eat breakfast.
It was making those
incessant
buzzing sounds
[they do]
when they are at
wit’s end.
So focused.
It
never
saw it coming.
My mother
is dying.
so I
bite off
my lips
for not
speaking,
my fingers
bloody
for not
reaching out
more;
drink
the organs
she gave me
stripped
and fatty.
maybe
this time
they will
heal new
and
those skins
Will know
what to do(?)
a racing mind
can’t excelerate
without a course
to ride on.
the oil spots
leak down
through
your veins
pollute and
inflame
the muscles
with stress.
the cars
must be
put away
sometime.
clear the roads,
wash the
state of them.
sit in
the absence,
and breathe.
Have you ever
been somewhere
And just thought,
“Oh my god,
I am actually
Losing my mind.
This is what
Releasing
The grip
On sanity
Feels like.”
—
I just did,
Watching two
[Insanely
Too] attractive
People
be In love
| All over |
Each other.
She took
Her hair
Out of
A bun And
locked tresses
Fell perfectly.
I left
the teapot
on
not hearing
it whistle
long enough
to burn it
again.
—
by the time
i remembered
i had to
pry its
hot metal
bottom
from sautered
spiral prison.
hope it
will
forgive me
[salvage
charless tasting
oatmeal water]
For forgetting
about it
while it
killed itself
on burner.
—
lying
in bed
i hear it
whistling
placebo;
[we could
have ruined
it this time]
A guilt
calloused
melody
of sorrow.
Whiskey
is always
there for you
when you
need it.
sometimes
i could use
a little
warmth
in my life.
it slides
into me
gracefully
no hidden
expectations
or motives;
its only
wants me
to feel
A sprinkler
full of acid
Looks
just like
a sprinkler.
running
through;
the contents
eat down
to my bones
and
then some.
the first time
you trust
a pack of
hungry dogs
to watch
your newborn,
they will
relish in
ripping
and devouring
its tender flesh;
knawing bits
of stubborn
cartilage
til there is
nothing left
to feast on.
—
they hiss
and growl
at you
for not
having more.
My brain
wakes up
and cries for
the death of
its living baby.
so used to
hurling
ourselves
[booze]
down the hatch,
the still
afterwake
unscathed
is surreal;
like crying
when happy,
our system
malfunctions.
Finding a
tiny
feather
on the
sidewalk
does not
mean you
can grab it.
do not
try to
nail it down
beneath claws;
the wind will
pick it up
and fly it
away
[do not try
to make
nest of it]
it may look
like a part
of you,
but it is
not you,
or yours.
it belonged
to another
bird-
-now
nothing
at all.
[attached
never
really
means
ownership]
probably
did not
all along.
—
