Let's drink our sorrows awake to sloppy sobriety and raping love, claustrophobic hugs, frigid burns and wrong turns.

Already Dead

And what if I'm already dead? The seasons changes and came to end. All I hear is branches under me leaves covering me because I came to end. So what if I'm already dead...

Heart Attack

forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget. the pain. in your chest. forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget. the pain. in your chest of drawers. in your treasure chest. in your cage of ribs. in your cage of hearts. forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget.

Horses

Her hair like strands of mud strewn hay waves effortless and crashing to her face, wind knotting and tangling golden highlights into dirtied darkened roots. She breathes in the unspace left from a heartless chest, gasping the air of cigarettes, blackening her crumbling soul to dust to dust.

The horses hear these melancholic sighs, heaving towards her on the highwayside, through the clay caught in their hoofs and the thorn ridden whimpering brush. An echo chimes, reverberating the dissatisfaction of their ordinary lives to never race against the winners instead to hide amongst the losers. To sit, to stand, to eat, to sleep, repeat repeat and to wait for lust lost lovers in dust in dust.

Her hand grazes the peachy softness of his heavy nostrils, feeling his burden palm to touch, alone and caught in the tarnished rot of her malignant green eyes twitching exhaustively and starring into a benign glimmering black as he stares back. The sun browns her china doll skin imperfect moles scattered grass-chewing dandelion seeds blowing wishes into the dusk, wishing for night to fall shadow upon their manes, with dust with dust.

This City

In this city people talk in a walking sleep, head to the floor, chattering, clanking, clacking bores. Their jaws to feet, little sheep with pavement sounds, around and around, smoke sucking in lucky dollar bills and sin. Trying thrills for odd looks to kill friends don't know love won't own any inside walls crawling home to roam, lost costs sanity humanity. In this city people talk in a walking sleep, head to the floor, chattering, clanking, clacking whores.

I Found You

We met on the script of a tea stained paper trampling footsteps of ink and scattered fingerprints. I traced you on blank beds of word, catching letters as we spoke, drawing hearts within the sheets and coloring outside the lines. The book begins to burn as we pretend to set fire to the sun scribbling lightning strikes in black wind, crumpling our story in patterns, doodling secret notes and love letters tied in rope until they blow away.

Cold legs parting for wrists watching submissive lips pouting the buried blessed hips swinging playground sandbox dirty empty and gone.

Your bleeding ink splits me soft, a feather, a cold a night, a sweat. Write me a letter, words torn, unraveling to forget, tears worn flying into a white page where we once met.

I see
I hear
I feel
Nothing.

I feel
I hear
I see
A black hole.

Slowly

The body, slowly breathing, slowly breaking, slowly. It caves inward into bones, dust, worms, rust. Fine lines to frowns. Laugh lines to crowns. Lost and slowly breaking, slowly.

Your jewels glimmer in the dust
Through the ashes of light dancing in a dash

Your smoke blazes through storms
Through the hazes of words lost in a maze

Rock Me

Do you love me? Love in the way I feel? Will you protect me and you from harm? From losing charm? Wrap me in your arm? Wrap me in your arm like a child, like a baby, your baby rocking slowly to a song...? Rocking me into a storm? A stranger to you. A name. A face. A place to rock me into a storm.

The delusions of youth slip away slip away dripping like a dog's wet tongue into yesterdays months soggy soot.

Table Talk

"I wonder what dying is like..." she said with intention of reaction, an attention she felt was deserved yet leaking out the sides and pouring down the garbage filled gutter, the love rotting drain.
"I don't think its like anything, really.", He mumbled and sighed, fidgeting, uncomfortable and unsure of the tone in his lackluster voice, in monotonously re-hashing a conversation had with too many other sob stories and basket cases in the dirty rat race of a city. He looked down at the menu. She looked down too... biting hard on her protruding lip and welling up with tears the size of the globing droplets pacing down the window with a smeared candlelight reflection of their distant faces dripping off the rusted pane.
"Yeah, you're probably right", She uttered with a whimpering breath and once again bit down on her lip now turning a deeper and darker shade of rose. Breathless, he stared at her swollen lip and briefly imagined her hips before being seduced back by her sadness and his daring to care.
"Sometimes I think about it. I think about if I died what would happen to the girl I'm with. What things my family and friends would remember. I worry I could die without accomplishing my dreams." She intently listened as he spoke, unable to look him straight. Slouching and curling with hair embracing her face, she kept focused on the napkin below her, continuously folding it with her fingertips. The foggy glass of wine, the foaming beer, the flicker of fire atop melted wax, and the worn out wood where others had intertwined their hands like a puzzle waiting to snap apart were all the distractions she could handle. "But then I realize", he went on "death is probably just a black hole. Nothing. The end. So, there would be no reason or worry, no reason to care because you simply wouldn't be able to."
"Sounds kind of appealing..." She smirked with tears still on the edge of her glistening lid and fearing they'd fall into every part of their surroundings and pulling his head and heart into her crooked mind. "Getting rid of all your worries, all you care about... It sounds kind of appealing"she said.

IS

Is a suitcase of belongings longing for a place on your shelf on the road to happiness not enjoying the happiness that is the trip, tripping on my feet are numb, tingling senses, lack of direction directed into oblivion and black lights breaking the sun out of day into night. Run run run run to nothing from something you cared about.
Is talking in your sleep...
Is another broken to be broken...
Is waiting for the savannah starlight to come pick her up...
Is in the darkness of my night and in the brightness of my day...
Is a dancing queen, machine, fiend...
Is always last call in a nowhere town...
Is a heart shaped china dolls face, sad eyes, crooked lies to match her nose, her cheekbones...
Is beautiful and ugly and charmed...

Sink

We die until the day we're born again into open bloodied heart, mixed up broken part, loveless and lurking after muddied art. You paint me puddles in the ground with your lips your tongue your sounds. Sinking over and over and over again. Sinking over and over again. A kitchen sink, nothing to drink. Dry and try and oh my oh my. Dry and try. Dying day in and out day in and out, in and out. Day in. Day out until we're born again into open bloodied heart, mixed up broken part, loveless and lurking after muddied art.

You made a devil in my heart.

I am lucky, like the grinning siamese cat, chased out of the night as it cracks. Love follows me haunts and taunts me, hovers on my back, breaking on my neck breathing words from a boy I once met.

Caught in tow, unknown to the darkness of your shadow.