Heart racing,
breathless-
slick, the salt-sweet of us.
Hastily dressed
and feeling delicious.
Your fingers slipping
in, hard perfect rhythm-
Quick circles pressed
to the heel of your
hand. Whispered good-bye
forgotten, unheard-
Licked clean of
intent between
you and I.

When it hurts it hurts.
When sadness grips my throat I let it linger.
I let the breath in my lungs dissipate.
Because why does it matter?

When it hurts it hurts.
When the air is leaving my body and memories flood in,
I don't care if I have no air.
The next best thing is the death of the old.

But the problem is whenever it dies and I have "Moved on" it's a lie.
I get dragged back in.
I somehow get breath back in my lungs.
And the past comes back to life.

Today was one of those days.
A photograph was found,
A feeling was ignored,
A day of hurt pursued.

When it hurts it hurts.
When the past is found
When the past is relived.
**** me and the edge that I get to.

I see over the cliff.
I see over the precipice.
I take the leap over and over again, but I keep ending up right where I started.
The past won't ******* die.

When it hurts it hurts,
And guess what?
Right now, in this moment,
It ******* hurts.

Sorry, mom and dad
Sorry, sensitive folks.
Sorry, for writing this down and putting it out in the world.
But right now I don't care.

I'll tag it explicit.
I'll tag it adults only.
But guess what?
Life is explicit even if you don't swear.

Because when it hurts it hurts.
When the truth is laid out before you, don't run from it.
Embrace the truth, the pain, the misery, the sadness.
Even if you try to ignore it, you can't.
Because when it HURTS it HURTS.

I want her back
I don't want to move on.

I don't want her back.
I want to move on.

I'll probably be better tomorrow.
But who knows?
I sure as Hell don't.
What I do know...

What I do know...

Sorry for the repeat I was really trying to find something to say there.

Oh I remember...

When it hurts it hurts.
Let me be,
Let me feel,
Let me not be home,
Let me be far away.

God, when it hurts it hurts and you understand.
God, when those photographs find their way to my eyes let me hurt.
It's not wrong to feel the way you feel.
I'm allowed to be sad.
Even if every fiber of my being is ashamed I haven't moved on.

When it hurts it hurts.
Let it be.
Leave me be.
Leave it where it is, so I can see.  


Pressed up against the wall, her arch creaked, her spine sang and my right held her at the base and my left wrapped in her silk mane.

She had me on the ground,
belly pressed against the winter wooden creaking floor,
with my arms at the side,
and her pistil to my face.

The rain passed.

My laundry hangs,
wet and heavy,
for all to see,
as they pass the yard.

"****'em."

It was hot, and I was starving.

The air was thick and dry, causing flies to drown as they land on your scorching skin. Drunk, I pray for water but I get Guadalupe. She hugs and kisses me stating that I will live forever because she was just blah blah blahing about me. The world quakes in my head until she blesses me with a sealed bottle of polish springs. I shower my tongue with it, wringing out the cuff of my shirt to get every drop. 

Now, famine was left to conquer.

"Come over. I live two flights up with a comfy bed just callin' for ya'."

I guess clam soup it is.