Those days are gone
With the dark wind
Clouds larger than sky
Those dreams are here

Tolerant to the cold
Doing this by choice
All to be forgotten
For ever more forever

Bathing in love/ your idea of it
Focused ******* that steady change
Just my size of box - a stepping point
Floating off from the rocks , open cove
There was always- something , cope.
/Paint me a picture/under fresh pine
way under the woody black faded from this green of desolate trees
Ship rock down the shore forgotten
Your plot of wood and cliff / faded from view as every day is now
Our newpine friend jutting out of rock / fifty meters from the seahouse
Something maybe in your tone- bubbles of soap- darkly the ocean
Salt water kisses and something about conquering fear or dread
One of the consequent
Black and white swirls
Has me laying around
All these messages left
Im on my way out
Afraid of burning bridges
And open water

He said normal things wernt working
What makes those other colors perfect
Work with me/dont try and force it
I am a brakeless vehicle slowing/
coasting

Open up the windows let the ocean in
Rain falls from such great heights
You fell from the bed , into the light
Do they even consider you still alive
The morhpine , is it working ?

Dry skin,
like wine soaked paper evaporated.
Festering, tightly wound minds.
Failed attempts at human interaction,
we coexist like cars
cooperating without concern
yet never do we touch.
Coming to terms with my cold-hearted,
cynical
insensitive ways.
I am this way,
and I don't matter.

We sat in silence while I stared off in to space,
and he stared at me
trying with all he had to get into my head
alas, to no avail.
A sadness so deep, it penetrates quivering bones.
So thick, he'd surely drown.
I was going to end things right then and there,
but instead
I ****** him.
Because I wanted nothing more than to feel close to him,
if only for a moment,
and that was the only way I knew how.
I was going to end things right then and there,
but I was afraid to wake up alone in the night.
I was going to end things,
but I couldn't stand the thought of losing him from my life.
I should have ended things,
because I feel so god ****** detached.
Because I feel so much *******
nothing.

If I was the only reason for you to stay clean, what does that make me?

I feel like I was a rule you wanted to break. A chain for you to pull on.

I wish I could have been the difference I needed in you. But there's no reasonable way for me to hold myself responsible for your change.

Heaven and hell both know you would rather leave than be responsible for mine.

So in what fairness is it that I take charge of your life?

I cannot be the cure for your lifestyle. I cannot be held responsible for your sobriety and your relapse all wrapped up in one resentful package.

I wanted so badly for us to share our growth. But the expectation we both set for each other now seems like it was rooted in desperation and spite.

Wasted life like mine trying to be the splint you use to graft your life together and hold it fast while you grow, feels like a fence trying to stop a tree from expanding.
Stunting your growth and breaking me in the process, to no avail.

Bark engulfing my time-fragile frame of linked cage, hopelessly there to keep you safe. Your strong life breaking and bending my twisted metal body, determined to taste the poisoned stream on the other side of my weathered wire you see so clearly as prison bars. Awaiting my mistake as to justify a sip of the lethal spring so close to your roots.

I so desperately have tried to keep you safe from those toxic waters you are so dedicated to live by. I've tried, and I have failed, to be the source of your change.

My broken and mangled wire will lay to rust on the river bank, while I watch your roots soak up the volatile liquid you so desperately seek. Then shrivel up and rot while my brittle iron oxide body hopelessly decays and cries rust atop your dying trunk. Wishing something had been different.

You didn't choose to live so close to the water, but I chose to make one last stand surrounding your body like a prison of demands. It isn't your fault that your here, but it's my fault for thinking my life could stop you.

-RÆ

Her voice is strained.
Her skin is fair.
Her ******* lay on the countertop.
I **** her until my thoughts stop.

She rejects the notion of love for all,
as she leans against my kitchen wall,
with a cigarette and an unbuttoned blouse-
she wants to be homeless in my house.

She keeps me in her necklace's locket,
and I keep her in the wallet in my pocket.
Her toes kiss the linoleum,
she walks like she's made of helium.

She mumbles that I taste like mint chocolate chip,
as she rubs against my hip.
Her breath smells like Malboro Lights,
and I hope she decides to stay the night.

Milky Ways and Vanilla Cakes,
she likes the way my body shakes,
as we lay and eat our troubles away.
Hurried words slow the day.

She asks me about my stretch marks and scars,
and if I've ever been hit by a car.
And I say no, but I've been hit by love before,
and it feels like getting your hand caught in a door.

Hurried smiles and bathroom stalls,
she likes the way my family never calls.
The words escape between her plump lips,
as my hand travels between her hips.

We move until we forget
that the world is moving faster.

If I were ever
to damage
myself
it would only be
so that I
could bleed
poetry.

The night's cold.
Cigarette smoke's silken silhouette
on the steam trail
off my breath.
Defiantly shivering-
no, I will finish it
the cherry- red
down to the last futile drag
and me,
the only living thing
in earshot, breathing on
and godsbedamned
I sit
despite winter's frigid grip
just like snoop dog said-
smoke til the last hit
but I fired and missed
and there's something I missed here
though the air is all clear
and I can't hear anything
but a heartbeat-
beat-
beat-
under the empty stars
I penned these few bars
to keep my hands warm
to make the blood flow-
everything's hallowed and hollow
especially me.