Termite

I see that one arm is stubbed
by something. No one else can see
this, like it isn’t true.
To them, I am tragedy,
and I let them.

I am a hot potato
and they drool over food.
My crippled hands shove their
mouths full of muscle.
They like it raw
and tough.
So, I give them my back bone
to gnaw on,
they snap it like baby pea stock.

I spend two years in the ground,
done with legs
and feet
and toes
and balance.
I buried myself in dirt,
living with termites.

The thing about termites that no one else can see,
is that they aren’t true. To them, we are tragedy,
and we let them.

Sad Forest Of Dread

Sad forest of dread, your morning crowds me
with loud hatred
and the whole world crawls in my head.
They sit on my couch, spilling coffee and
lies. Gross laughter – snorting
at sticky children.

I have said that I am not a city
to muck around, but they watch me
like my ancient bricks are
Italian art,

my legs,
my hands,
my lips become earthquakes

I am the black silence, awkwardly shaking
against the wall while a baby
crunches tomatoes against my skull,
and this flimsy morning is
scalding me with people

carrying invitations to disease.
I want to be free of
this nausea
and take some of their trade,
but I cannot.

My skin has been nourished by neglect
and poverty, I’ve been
eating grass roots and building castles
for worms,

and if you follow my example, you might be the
wisest, and the loneliest,
to ever sit in this sad, sad forest
of dread.

She Would Know

I’m hungry.
My stomache tugs at
an old fetus, belly up,
a stutter in a hot month.

I think, I would paint her
like a spring egg,
or sculpt her like a chess game
where she could be queen

and cut off the eyelids of liars,
like I.

I would give her my hands to do with
all the weapons
and my tongue to speak with
all the words

she would know that she is not a pink
fluff laying on a pillow,
she is a sharp dagger,
a soft poison,

a prowess taking life by God’s
mighty light,
she would know

if she was not an old thought,
if she was not a small white stutter
stabbed out of the clutches
of my womb

she would know.

Oh

Oh, dear Satan, your delicious
merchandise finds me
tender.

I am a raw sunflower gasping for
clean air, for rare light
to open my thin arms
and feed my beginning.

I could be a generous gift,
a miracle fragrance in the breeze
of a season,
but I was stomped deep
in the Earth, fed on by worms
before I knew how to dream.

When dreams slipped in to my feeble
stem, they were
manipulated, filling my roots with
poison.
Now, I sleep with deadly seeds
growing in my brain, too weak to survive
cold seasons,
surrendering to dark demons, until
spring brings back
the warm light of hope.

Severance and Unification – (Adult Content)

* This post could be disturbing and difficult or offensive to some readers..it contains adult material and paints a disturbing image, please don’t read if you are sensitive to adult material.

I forked my eyeballs
from their sockets before
the gang
banged
away

at my fourteen aged
bones

for men
bones are not like fine
aged wine

my eyeballs bounced
around with
the pounding
hounding
hard-ons

slippery hours
later
my pig pudding covered
bones
laid to rest

while
my severed eyeballs
suffered alone
with what they had seen.

You Are Leaving.

Picture frames decorate the carpet, broken glass
laying on top of smiling people.
The words hurled from you at a speed I couldn’t recognize
and blew the memories off of their chosen spots in
our home.
Around me, lay the shattered moments that I
treasure. I can barely catch my breath.
Time has froze, I’m useless.

I sit myself down in the middle of the debris,
the pain is flowing from me as if I became the Falls of Niagara.
I barely notice the glass cutting into my knees – feeding
me full of the poision, leaving me with scarred memories of
this moment that will never hang on a wall.

Moments – that feel like years – later, you are sitting
next to me in a truck. You are driving, we laugh, we stop,
we hug, we kiss. I feel my eyes flicker once again.

Then, I am home again. Hanging portraits on the wall. Careful
about their arrangement, they must be just so! I hear a doorknob turn
behind me so I turn to greet you with my love, but
time freezes with the coldness in your eyes and you tell me, once again,
you’re leaving.