her cancer spread to my heart
his head
their skin
there was nothing in her bones less brittle
than our stability.
we clawed our way through honeymoon bee stings
ate crow for breakfast and
took palms to our fists at night
do you recognize fear?
when the beast becomes the fawn
we’re bloodied in our own guilt
there’s no washing this off.

our desires disease compassion
my knees are tired of bending.

this is the birth of snake skin




something tells me I’ve re-winded
given extra fingers
a mirror to my nervous system
someone plucked you from a memory
and re-shaped for my pleasure

i’ve never been very competitive
as long as i get what i want
move you queen
closer to my king
a barricade of not so strong walls
your hand closer to me
your breath smelling

morning afters are blissful
disappointment is not destruction of false expectations
disappointment is something you choke on after a shot of tequila
cash only hun
your bluff has been called

she wrecked me
ruffled curls mopping my untidiness
with some odd combination of sprung rigidity

there’s nothing wrong with a little deviancy
specially not when they’re as uniform and
as  your routines

lets play house and watch it all burn burn burn

i met you and i learned to howl
to pick pockets
to be carried in their waist, fed bred crumbs, fun-
size-up the opportunity and take a chance on the next hitch

i learned how to empty my life and fill it with alive
how to brunt the heat and face the cold
how to un-hunt
how to relish
how to rue pride rock
from the bottom of the food chain

if i could take it back
i would give anything
to try try try
and cut my fingers

there are craters in you
if you call
i will fill every inch of your moon.




make a topography out of me
to flip
my numbers into some muddled righteous  dyslexia
Correcting the child out of youth
scratch that innocence off your face kid
here we learn adaptation
is the finest form of courage
and survival of the fittest
isn’t just for those with claws.

look at you child
monstrous beast
you’re terror makin
mothers cry at the sight of you
pick you belly up from the table
and scratch American into your doll house

you won’t fit in
through that small window anyway
even the boys won’t play with you no more

i can’t even speak about you

you smell like whiskey and cheap vomit
i’ve neer tastend beer before
this can of worms becomes a legend dating back
to green fairies
fairly learning how to prance in a circles

train tracks
train me how
train wrecks
i’m taking it in the back seat
fish and fries
exactly what you’re thinking
i was too young
you were to rough.





“two lies with one truth”
for the sake of omission
let me just tell you
i am always always honest with you.

i know

she’s a smooth with transition as i am with sitting still
if i shook you,
you could mistake the air
for an earthquake
call me magic
back and fourth
between circles of our youth
you know me
in the morning
take my  blanket colored eyes and cover yourself
so the moon remembers how to shine.

i find myself
more in more
resenting morning.
what i want isn’t what i have
it is the ideas i fall in love with
the lust, forthcoming
murders that passion of the soul.

“For reason ruling alone, is a force confining. And passion, left unattended, is a flame the burns to its own destruction.” 

for now
know the nurture of safety
is painting at my grounded
i will write every day
until i don’t
she’ll be here
until she’s not
know that the lightning of pleasure
is always a few strokes away

in retrospect
is far more intimidating
I’ve forgotten how many miles my feet can cover
I’ve forgotten – it is my nature
to keep looking forwards
leave that step behind.



having a grand ol fukin time being smitten
i’ve been dating a writer
she’s more of an actor
really more of an actor
she’s cum
lustfull and cancerous
i’ve answered open
wet from the rain
ready for heat.
ready to re-learn how to breath
drinking sleepless nights
broken brakes and a set of keys.


cherry blossoms are not the enemy
whats dangerous is crappy pens on the wrong side of the page
they make too much noise
like those damned boots
fuck your boots
my bare feet have much more soul
than your damned fucking boots


please know that i’m so

“I don’t know what it is about you that opens and closes. Only something in me understand, you are the fairest of all roses. Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”
e.e cummings

I understand now
unlike most
i’m not the victim of attachment
that beauty behind transition is
desire for more.
brave or idiotic.
my hands will not be cages
simply curious guests
but they are messy,
they have not yet learned grace
they have not yet learned
how to leave not trace.

it is an  ultimatum
i’ll do something good for myself
we’ll change and get better
or we’ll hurt
then change
and get better.
its time to put a muzzle
on the tyrant that will silence the symptom.

no one carries my hips under their arm
you do not define the structure of my lungs
i made an error
to muffle away my pride
hoping silence would leave room for you kindness
it’s empty

i hear echoes in my own please
you body pressed against my own
repulsed at my repulsion
i should be able to love
you lips
are sour
and my tongue is tired of the rough patch

nature to you
is the criminal tried dishonoring you status of self confinement
to me
the fire licking the mountain
is as sharp and malignant
as it is necessary.
not a lot of people will hear the grass scream

I feel accountable for every last blade of pain

as much as it hurts
i would let it burn.
this is where we are different
I seek to tame the instinct of fight
and flight
to redefine self preservation
with the empathy of acceptance
if that means I have to clench my teeth every time you cut me
i will do so
until my Bite
can no longer pierce skin



she holds me hostage in inquisition and discovery
only shares  ideals and monosyllabic
patterns in plural
I float on the river of her body, ears an ache with the pressure of her words
seeking tidlewaves, thunderstorms
I want hurricanes.
guess your never old enough to splash in a puddle

no, not for what we had
i cried for what we never experienced

the way the ocean numbs my toes
could never compare to the way the sun kisses my skin

i painted the ridges of  your body
made the limelight
into candlewood
held space for isolation
and found only limitation in the timber
of your mood

smells of firewood in the morning
of cigarettes
and washed hands mid day
scrolling through laziness and procrastination
only to go to sleep with beer and defeat

and you say i run
when it gets real
well, my fantasies have become reality
and that much may be true my love,
but unlike you
i’m running towards something
At least I’m not stagnant.




i want to touch the sleeve of her river
i want to un-damn my bloodstream

Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated,
but not as long as i can make stories out of my heart break, beauty out of my sorrow.
if people were rain – she was a drizzle and i a hurricane and i hold
my lungs in the palms of my nervous system because i’ve been stung by a bee twice in my life and i carry an epic-pen with me so i never forget where honey comes from, you will never have to lose yourself to win me over.
Her arms are no branches, her body no trunk,
her feet are not roots.
I’m not held steady nor in compassion. Instead her arms are streams to her river-body, her mind a Pierian spring and my body hers.
temporarily buoyant.