Sometimes I think I escape. I think I can think my way out
and ascend above the intertwines of you and I
and all I know.
but I all I know
Is that there is no ascent there is no above there is no
untangled there are knots. I am not
a point of clarity or origin.
So where does that leave me? The late night the early
morning the I am alone with thoughts and feelings individual
my writing is tied to theirs and the moon and everything I
have ever done or seen or heard - the string willingly tossed
out into bright light left to catch on novels and oceans.
(‘bravery’, I named it.)
The string carelessly nudged into the dark snagged and torn
by love and silence. (‘life’, I named that.)
follow the trail unravel the person traverse vast deserts for an
untangled string and you will find
The sun calls through the red curtains, making
A sanguine glow in the room, the same shade
As last night’s dress and heels. You hadn’t stayed
Out late, unlike last week; not forsaking
Anything with texts missed, no risk-taking
As we’d agreed: thanked each-other and made
Future plans, good-night kiss; might’ve played
Out something like that. Pretty rose, quaking
From more deaths than I want to count, yet still
Through generations the cliché survives
(Though in the ring I lasted years until
I was gored by thorns, a red cape hiding knives.)
So when you wake I will still cross this strait,
Penelope, with the hope you will wait.
I suck small portions of room not
Big to fill a sack with wind
Hello WebMD my old friend
I’ve come to prang at you again.
Let me pause for breath
my. brother. was. made. to. write. a. letter.
at. himself. age. eleven. saying. keep.
that. death. stick. away. from. me!
Wind through the crack in the unopenable window
Wind in my unsucking, unbuckled nostril
pass me my pump
100MCG CFC FREE. FOUR TIMES A DAY
Some people enjoy being choked.
They find it sexy.