God Am I Trying

So I come like a box of watercolor,
surrender to water
and Iris.
You are drowned out, on a stretcher,
a small body of
life sucked out of a vacuum.

I missed your heartbeat.
Where did it go?
I found a dumpster chomping
down on fingernails
and he waited….

on 59th and State, he sat,
watching out for backlash
but I am calm.

Blood clots are normal, even when
I am flooded. We gather sand bags to stop
feelings from flowing.
Nobody fels mine grow,
like Ivy, like heavy honeysuckle
taking over a life.

He says it is for the best,
the world is watching,
I am a fuck up,
I know.
I am hard to kill.
But I’m trying.
God am I trying!

The Sweeper

7:45 – no later than Dawn,
Aruna Rusted to the ground.

All that Matters,
the White and Gray,
were taken.

The Sweeper takes air with
Chain Links.

The Floor must know more.
The Tiles aren’t Talking.

Poor Girl is Brain Blinded.

The Sod is in hiding,
swept somewhere
under the streets –
where Poor Aruna

Forever Sleeps.

*Please share this post and give the deserved attention to the story of Aruna Shanbaug, who had much of her story hidden “under the instructions of the Dean of KEM, Dr. Deshpande, perhaps to prevent Shanbaug from being socially rejected or to avoid effects on her impending marriage.”(Wikipedia) Everyone should know her story!

To That

inch of time spent over the sea,

dragging your dead body back
from the sharks I fed you to.

There should be enough salt
to drown in. Now that is something
you don’t hear of!
But, I have heard of Buddha,
and Ghandi,
and what great advice for the
blonde girls in white dresses,
not scratched by hands of
light drinking, or hard gunfire;
the girls untouched by
living a dead life, waking under floorboards
built by their mothers.

Your heavy photograph burns to
my tongue. I spit. I curse you out
of your newly dried grave.
I am ecstatic for your corpse,
it grows on me like tough leather.

Now for her.
I carry a monsoon to her driveway.
She is lit up. A bright pumpkin
ripened for plummet.
She dresses in honeysuckle,
and flickers like whiskey.
I haven’t thought of her name,
she is black as a canvas; a new galaxy
before energy matters.
If her heart happens to
do that, I will carve it out.

I will take it back to July in my teeth
where the desert is waiting for me,
it’s Queen.

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.