42

This is a cause for celebration here in the belly of the swarm.
The situation demands that we raise our glasses in honor of the spokesman
We’ve fixated to the floor.
Give us your headline hymns and your saddest verse.

You’re not partnered with the half-hearted anymore.
Out legs are spread wide open,
Our weary heads are splitting at the seams
And we all know you’re proficient in the idioms of grief.
We are capable of the kind of love about which only the petrified can speak.
Concede him the microphone let him sing the triumph of the frauds to all his loyal sycophants.
We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame.
I can say it better than you felt it.
And I can be it bigger than you needed it.
I haven’t lived a day of my life apart from the one that everyone’s read about.
I’ll spark de-evolution.
I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines.

I’ve been fatted up for the guillotines.
Sweet talker, you’re goddamn right I’m a blessed lamb.
I can show you all how to have a good time.
I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me.
This room has one too many laureates so I’m keeping my peace.
Every candidate ends his life with a cliché,
And the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave.

I’ve been spoiled rotten.
Every thought I’ve authorized had curdled.
Not everything is poetry but I can’t convince you of that,
I’ve been drawn and quartered.
I’ve been twice picked over.
And it’s sickening what you’ve come here today to celebrate.
Fuck yeah we’re gonna party tonight.
I am capable of the kind of love about which
Only the intoxicated and the California bound can weep.

This is......

not the last nor will it be
letting sleeping dogs lie is not our speciality
but none the less
they sleep tonight
as I sleep alone
with none but the company of memory
i know what it was
and is
you held tight as if to squeeze the hope out of nothing
the feeling of your hand in my hair is the same as it was
the smell of you
and the eyes to let me down every time
Fill my soul with hope.
NO HOPE.
NONE.
EVER.
Set fire to what we know and hate.
My only hope is you will watch it burn with me.

With Wax Wings

We follow light all too closely
for if only a second
To have your rays fall upon us
melting our wings
we plummet back to
back to
back to
nothing ever changes
the ground just as hard as I remember
I felt my stomach drop just the same
every time
again and again
thousands of miles
or in the same room
you know who you aren't
and you keep holding my heart.
With none but the sound of your voice
or those tiny socks.
That hold tiny feet,
supported by an all but tiny heart.
BREATHE.

Le crique

The phone rings and you pick up with uncertain hello. This was the beginning of one of the most memorable days of my life.

I got in my car, tickets in hand, on a cold, blustery day. Opening my car door to a smell all but forgotten. At this point my car still smelled new. A sweet smell of leather accompanied me on my drive from work to your parents house. While driving I kept looking at the 10th row seats emblazoned with bright yellow type on a deep azure background. The apprehension building up to seeing you again was so thick you could have cut the air.

I watched you clumsily approach my car and the situation with the unapparent grace that only you could have had. Once in, all I saw was your smile. Awkward conversation as if new to our tongues is all that I remembered following the drive to a magical place. You told me I looked nice and I felt helpless. Once parked we set foot into a somber november sky. A short trek down a winding path, the boulevard scattered withe fallen leaves as red as fire. Providing the perfect backdrop for the colors of your beautiful dress and blue eyes. The sky was the model for what I now consider a gloomy day.

A large white tent stood as something almost foreboding on the horizon. As our hands brushed each other causing you to look right in my eyes. This is how you would say it is ok. We passed through a makeshift barricade, handed our tickets to a man in a masquerade mask, exchanged a childish sense of excitement and you kissed me. I remember the sound of our shoes on the fault filled gravel pavement as if it were some sort of twisted metaphor.

At this moment I knew I would never forget a single detail of this for the rest of my entire life.

Walking into the tent shrouded in darkness fumbling to find our seats, this is world of imaginable opportunity. I couldn't believe how close we were. In so many ways. I could hear your heels stick to the sugar coated floor. The overwhelming shrill pitch of a whistle filled the air. A large, stalwart black man in a top hat sauntered on stage whistling songs never possible in my mind. The Spot light hit and for an hour I was transported to a place that only existed in my mind before I was too old to know it cant exist. I saw a tiny woman surrounded by giants, floating with the help of none but balloons. Balloons eventually fall or pop.

Intermission

It was dusk now and we wondered amongst the jugglers and vendors in amazement. The smell of carmel filled my nose as the sound of exotic guitar swam in my ears beside your voice. The lights danced around us at what in my opinion now seems like a feverish pitch. This is how memory works. Things speed up and slow down, taste sweeter, are warmer and more beautiful than reality. Yet this is reality. It is what was my reality. Bustling with visible energy in my eyes we made way back into the cave. Or was it a tent. Yes the tent. The cacophony of feet rhythmically hitting the floor brought my eyes from you to birds. Or men. Men in bird suits. The plumage was the color of mustard and I was alone in this show. This was my show to you. I am not the kind of person who is a companion to ghosts of your nature. Almost there, corporeal. Yet I held your hand as we oohed and ahhed. Our symphony of astonishment at how they did not drop the ball. The wire so thin and perilously suspended above us, yet not even a vibration of nerves was felt by me from them. But from me to them is another story in and of itself. This was the moment I lost my safety net and plummeted down. This was my fate sung so gracefully by the siren of my own design. Eyes on the prize. You miss so much what with sleeping and blinking. Time makes fools of all of us every day. The pace raced faster and faster till the lights dim as waning moons we fell under this spell. Only to be shuffled out like a head of cattle. To come to this plastic tarp and metal flooring shabbily built to host my hopes and dreams for a few night before giving other people false hope.

What is this hope, more importantly what is his reality. An illusion of magic is only an illusion when you realize it. Right? for the moments between sleep and awake we are real. No pre disposition to what we know will tell us that monsters dont exist and are not having coffee with us.

Shoot to kill.

We never loved ourselves so well as when we lusted after eachother.
We hummed along to electric guitars and the standard "whoa oh oh oh's"
And we drank each other under the covers.

They Call It Murder.

Burn down the fucking world!

Put on your goddamned dancing shoes.

This time it is for real.

A party of sycophantic repetition.

Smell the fat of the rich burn

And the innocence of the children leave the building.

Lets dance with the dead tonight.

for tomorrow we are born again.

Piss stained and still drunk

It is urgent

At the end of the world

Dont leave a shot half empty.

cause this shot gun is loaded.

Two shots.

One for you.

This is what happens one night at a time.

Suffer.

I cannot deny what I say
What I want is you
I'll see the world fall to its knees, rise and fall
Sometimes I wish everything I did wasn't killing time
Until we're face to face again
You don't look as disappointed as you will with time
"It's all right",
You'll tell me when everything's stripped away
"Understand completely that your everything's not everything to me"


oh and look up Ron Mueck if you have not.

It is my turn.

Pointing my pistol at the sky.
So there would be hope for this.
Empty clip.
Pray that my dreams dont die
And my angel's not hit.


New place.
New smile.

Excuse me, this is all I've got left.

Spinning counter clockwise

Each turn robs the planet of angular momentum.

Slowing it's spin

The tiniest bit.

Lengthening the night

Pushing back the dawn.

Giving me a little

More time here

With you.

Peas in a pod.

Like the other side of a galaxy.

Closer to me.

Like the other side of the bed.

Might as well be light-years .

Smile when we wake up.

Only to realize how we have waken.

No longer entwined.

A barrier to fall between.

I don't remember what your hair smells like.

That gives me a lump in my throat

And a pain in my chest

Thousands of miles later,

It still will.

We used to be peas in a pod.