look out into my back alley eyes
see i'm seeing so blue and purpley bruises
on your tattooed inner astrology wrist
like tarot cards in the park
these days mask our failed abortioned love
the small of your back
and your silly precious beauty scars on yr thigh
angels like to fail our hearts
we cradle the youth of our mothers
looking for innocence in half-filled bottles,
spent spoons/ baking soda containers.
thinking less about thinking/ more about doing.
what comes natural to me
is this twisted ankle on a rainy day
sad is sad enough without lovers to kiss my open wounds
or bandage this prophetic hand.
and i'm still half lifed,
more in love with the fantasy of you than the real you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
freight-train-lullabies
hush my little heart
and fourteen years with leftovers and losing
looks like the savagery of safety
is more veiled in false hope
and routines in malice and covert-violence
the heavy thoughts
of care without the ones to do so
the lack of reciprocation
and my conditional expectations
tried to get by
on phone calls and '800' numbers
voided empty arms
with so many parties
so many hands to un-hold
i'm amazed at this night
with torn pages and cold sheets
hospital scrubs and my flesh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
pull down this heavy thought
your about the right height
your about the right one
with a whistle and a whisper
i think i could walk with you
and take a little broken piece of me
one with alcoholic genetics
and bit of psychiatric medications
some days just feel the same
as when you burned me with the curling iron
closed my fingers in the car door
or slapped me with yr right hand,
as you held my brother's hand with your left.
