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Poinsettias wait for me
somewhere in Mexico
or maybe in a flower shop
somewhere near the border
red and green pointing at my chin
as I rise and thump
the rocket away
up to Heaven
down to Hell
waiting for the consolation
from the milk of the poppy
when it comes — be ready baby
give me all that swoon
those Aphrodite curves
laying on a bed of autumn leaves
your welcoming mat greets
the mud on my boots on December 24th
Portugal's knocking at the door
darling, give me all that I'm owed by the gods
I'll give you your due as well
my body craves yours
but not for the reasons of the hook
hanging by a chain and holding meat
as blood-soaked white apron butchers
chop ***** on metal tables with meat cleavers,
and clean the sweat off their foreheads.
No, not for those reasons at all
I'm beyond all that, I'm beyond ***.
the reason I crave your body
it's because the raindrops
fall from the sky and elope with the earth
filling the grass where crickets
drink and get drunk holding their mugs
cricketing their songs of better days to come,
bird nests soaked in eggs
that are required to be sat on
huevos demand to be nurtured by heat,
Tupperwares fill to the brim
left for stray cats to dip their whiskers in
and dry food becomes wet food
revealing all the whispers that they leave
on that makeshift bowl.
all things that should be left alone
yet aren't — rain won't let them be
that's the reason
love.
Old write
I died yesterday.
I will die today.
I've been dying
since I was born.

Every memory I have
lies six feet under me
a dead man lived them
not me.

Everything I've ever experienced
all the tooth ache,
heart ache,
even the smell of my arm pit
when I didn't shower
for a week.

Everyone I've interacted with
everyone I will interact with
has and will be talking
to a dead man
although I look forward
for tomorrow's black tea.

The person who just wrote this
is about to die
but don't you tear up now
because that person has changed
even if only
a little.
I've got an acting gig
coming up
in a couple of weeks.
I'll either play
Joe Goldberg
or some other serial killer.
I recorded myself
to practice
for when I get
the real deal.

My woman said
the first take was better
I also thought
It wasn't bad.

After that I went to the kitchen
I picked up an orange.
I have a strange way
of eating oranges
I slice it up like a plus sign
into four pieces
then I peel the bottom,
and then I put it in my mouth,
and do the rest with my teeth.
But sometimes I just
go in straight with my teeth
and I don't peel it at all
the juice from the orange
drips down my chin
makes its way through
my beard, it softly scans
the back of my hands
until it finally hits the counter.

I eat oranges
like I should eat
at any restaurant—
with no table manners.

I eat oranges the way I write
the way I make love to you
how I know you can be delicate
but I still take you
with my teeth in bed.

Even in the way I act.

I dedicate passion
in all that I do.
I give you all—
the ugly, the good,
God forbid
you admit
that the way I live
is *******
beautiful.
You are the butterfly
that softly whooshes
between my ribcage
and that flutters
around my heart
aiding in its job
of moving the carcass
that is my body.

Even if you oddly
revert your
metamorphosis
and stay still
next to me
and rest in a cocoon
allowing silence
to rule for a day or two
perhaps
I've hurt you
and that's your way
to regenerate
from my unintentional
hurt.

As I lay in bed
I do the same
I go back
to my own cocoon
I shelter myself
out of site
but I'm no
butterfly.
"you know
with a smile like yours
you could knock
ANYONE
off their feet..."

"oh really?
remind me of that
the next time
I'm in a bar fight."
I got a knock
at the door
at 3 am.
I open it
there he is.

"let me in
there's pigs
outside"

I let him in
and take a good look.
He usually
isn't like this:
like he owes
a debt to the world
and the earth
came to collect
her cash with Interest.

"What did you do?"
"I was smoking ***
and the cops ran after me."
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"what do you mean?"
"Dude, you smell
like gun powder."

He knew I knew
We waited 2 hours.
The cops were gone.
"Here have this ski-mask."
"Thanks."

He has a kid
and wife now
not everyone's
that lucky
to live that long.
good for you
old sport.

— The End —