The Body Has Left In Pieces

first it was the legs that simply disappeared
then the arms took the hands and left in quiet prayer
a torso should be enough to hold a head high but the heart just isn’t there
the spine is still intact and continues to play along though it abnormally curves in fear
when the eyes align
I swear I’m alive
but the body isn’t here

 

Sertraline

in a heavy fog I am swallowed
washed out of my skin
peeled at every layer

any doctor could take a bite
chart my territory in a book
mark me for my subjects
and when they are through

sertraline is waiting
she is gray
she is blue
she matches me in mood

and I
treat her better
than strawberry fields
dandelions
honeysuckle

her ability is greater
her strength is true
and when I take her
I am washed away
washed away

a different kind of new

Asking

especially during refuge
I feel the moon dig
through a difficult womb

desperate for comfort
begging for rebirth –

this life has burned
flesh from bone
stripped every vein
from duty

and I have just sat
chewing on beetles
biting off fingerprints

asking for peace

I’ll Tell You

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

that while my sleepy eyes seem to fade
I am causing earthquakes.
I am growing stars.

*Keep Up My Friends 😉

The Rule Is This

Photo by Jacob Mejicanos on Unsplash

I am not a rule or a thumb
I am after the math changes
like when he comes and then leaves

on the black pavement, they don’t move –
they are yellow and dead
and glued by storm

without lightning, I cannot burn
without worship, I am empty
words do not matter

but I want them all
the words
the matter
the exalt

If I bleed out – don’t scream at me
for doing it wrong

Blackwater

in here

oxygen has stopped moving
a body is melting over a dream
that is alive and well
an intention

blackwater

we intertwine like parasites
we love like decay

i could be convinced to move out of here
but every moon begs for this same
consistency

and I am no moon

poems and eulogies

start with a word
they don’t care which word you choose
as long as you begin
and, later, end

between a bullet and a knife

it’s just like a gunshot

these hot words in my head that force
blood to move

for once I am not tar

and the girl on the back of this page
she is certain
I will find a way

she sings it “goes on and on”
and it will

If I don’t stop it myself

you should know this

to me – you are just a hallucination
looking at yourself
trying to decide
if you are real

I want every ounce of your phantom
to penetrate my spirit
and break me

but I do not exist

Passion Flower

because when your gaping petals expand
just to taste the blood of Christ
every velvet ant will find his way
to your core

because when you are born on the mouth of July
you are a sedative blue tongue
and they will come to extract
you from your veins

because your short life is meant to feed
caterpillars, it is impossible
to assume that you would be
collected in the fall
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