Introductions
it lines
her teeth
her mouth
her tongue
tipping the
crest of her
top lip
when she
tells you
her name
her teeth
her mouth
her tongue
tipping the
crest of her
top lip
when she
tells you
her name
Introduction
_her thighs stick
to the seat
the summer heat
Velcro when she
straightens for you
oxygened balloons
behind her teeth
begging for sky
for complimentary introductions
they almost made it
by the way
to the seat
the summer heat
Velcro when she
straightens for you
oxygened balloons
behind her teeth
begging for sky
for complimentary introductions
they almost made it
by the way
Proximities & Leftovers
you think I don't understand
what it does to you
like I don’t feel it too
burning holes in my stomach
knocking against my ribcage
scratching my esophagus
like it’s almost out
you think I don’t know
it won’t leave us
until I say “Where?”
and you say “Far.”
and I “Soon?”
and you say “Yes.”
and single words
manufacture whole conversations
we can’t have
because eye contact might
be too close
what it does to you
like I don’t feel it too
burning holes in my stomach
knocking against my ribcage
scratching my esophagus
like it’s almost out
you think I don’t know
it won’t leave us
until I say “Where?”
and you say “Far.”
and I “Soon?”
and you say “Yes.”
and single words
manufacture whole conversations
we can’t have
because eye contact might
be too close
Why I Can't Sing to You
__they stare forgivingly
growing faint
that feeling you slipped about her
my disposition to nervous laughter
worn-out pages of exhausted excuses
free-falling face down
the obsession of wordless songs
and the overwhelming traces of our choices
drowning each lobe
parallel figures white flags
and she wishes there were lyrics to sing to
growing faint
that feeling you slipped about her
my disposition to nervous laughter
worn-out pages of exhausted excuses
free-falling face down
the obsession of wordless songs
and the overwhelming traces of our choices
drowning each lobe
parallel figures white flags
and she wishes there were lyrics to sing to
Wrong Turn
slick fingers
retreat through yours
to race to her mouth
to tear at the anxiously red bits
of her bottom lip
your questioning fingers are rough
strangling hers again
if those knuckles were necks
they'd go limp
you’re trying to manufacture
a sense of security
she feels your heartbeat against my pinned wrist
You’re feeling my pulse, not my heartbeat.
her pulse buried itself
behind both eardrums
banging on it
begging to it
spelling out arbitrary words
and she’d choke on her own breath
if it wasn’t holding those words back
Are you sure we're here?
retreat through yours
to race to her mouth
to tear at the anxiously red bits
of her bottom lip
your questioning fingers are rough
strangling hers again
if those knuckles were necks
they'd go limp
you’re trying to manufacture
a sense of security
she feels your heartbeat against my pinned wrist
You’re feeling my pulse, not my heartbeat.
her pulse buried itself
behind both eardrums
banging on it
begging to it
spelling out arbitrary words
and she’d choke on her own breath
if it wasn’t holding those words back
Are you sure we're here?
Losing Weight
_your eyes can't help but close
they've left us in this room alone
your bed is stiff
don't struggle to move for me; I'll fit
each breath brings this overactive nausea
closer to my mouth
I convince myself I smell
your high school cologne
July heated pavements on our backs
a kiss in Zippo-lit garage corners
this time I wish your mom would walk in on us
your words blocked
by a deafening rattling in your lungs
my words blocked
choking cowardice
so I run moist fingertips
back & forth on your knee
hoping it will pinken
ignoring its resemblance to my bent elbow
wake up, wake up
I'm enveloped in lines of panic
trying to make up for the last 1,384 days
and I breath so deeply
I break through all fabricated familiarities
the smell of
empty Kleenex boxes
monitored room-temperatures
bleach white pillows
enables instant paralysis
I silently plead
wake up, wake up
so I can continue to not say a word to you
they've left us in this room alone
your bed is stiff
don't struggle to move for me; I'll fit
each breath brings this overactive nausea
closer to my mouth
I convince myself I smell
your high school cologne
July heated pavements on our backs
a kiss in Zippo-lit garage corners
this time I wish your mom would walk in on us
your words blocked
by a deafening rattling in your lungs
my words blocked
choking cowardice
so I run moist fingertips
back & forth on your knee
hoping it will pinken
ignoring its resemblance to my bent elbow
wake up, wake up
I'm enveloped in lines of panic
trying to make up for the last 1,384 days
and I breath so deeply
I break through all fabricated familiarities
the smell of
empty Kleenex boxes
monitored room-temperatures
bleach white pillows
enables instant paralysis
I silently plead
wake up, wake up
so I can continue to not say a word to you
Taking Pictures at the Ocean
_with each step we take
two to your one
grinding salt and sand
I wonder if you're thinking
about the space between your toes
I try to fill the empty space
between my first two toes
clenching them tight
forcing closure to this humanly void
the first overlapping strangling the second
because the phantoms between
remind me too much
of the lack of us
two to your one
grinding salt and sand
I wonder if you're thinking
about the space between your toes
I try to fill the empty space
between my first two toes
clenching them tight
forcing closure to this humanly void
the first overlapping strangling the second
because the phantoms between
remind me too much
of the lack of us
Appointments
"She"
the name casually assigned
by your shrink
twice a week
this damaging orange bottle
chemical assurance
why you've been placed
in this morbidly tidy space
for the last 42 minutes
two undiagnosed
broken right hands
two unhinged
broken bedroom doors
one bottom-heavy list of
things thrown against a wall
and any chance of a clinically
healthy approach at intimacy
for either of you
suffocating underneath
the name casually assigned
by your shrink
twice a week
this damaging orange bottle
chemical assurance
why you've been placed
in this morbidly tidy space
for the last 42 minutes
two undiagnosed
broken right hands
two unhinged
broken bedroom doors
one bottom-heavy list of
things thrown against a wall
and any chance of a clinically
healthy approach at intimacy
for either of you
suffocating underneath
Shoot-out
she begins to shake
her boots echo her movements
she's wearing weathered cowboy boots
the spurs fall silent
she doesn't shoot
but you fall to the ground
pray you never get your hands on a gun again
her boots echo her movements
she's wearing weathered cowboy boots
the spurs fall silent
she doesn't shoot
but you fall to the ground
pray you never get your hands on a gun again