circle the common,
buzzed, windows down,
listening to the beat,
two street writers spinning art,
better than going home

park, cry, squeeze her bones—
never hard enough
lips unsettled,
too much red, too much hunger,
like a life perched
high above sleepless cities,
the hotel window, a tv,
the channels in reverse,
god’s fallen angels, drunk,
surfing the clouds, waves of fog,
so fucking high on spirit—
it’s never goodbye
those moonlight drives,
summers alive,
the cities never tried,
the infinite in your eyes
like before we made love

what we’ve become now
has no place
what your sister and brother have—
we’ll never know,
enough

we love like a drug,
praying to the dark matter
around us,
for another hit, another drag,
for the chance
to come down
in each other’s arms

no contract
nor through sickness or hell
our time, frictionless
joy by moment,
even with all the crying,
because I can again,
lost in your eyes,
in some Chinatown bar,
talking to your friend on the phone,
we celebrated, buried it
on paperback screens
my muse, your blood,
raw, stained,
everywhere,
never enough

cherry flavored,
that sweetness,
only as kind
as the last time,
the last kiss—
I’m holding bones so tight now
they shatter,
and I can see the life leave your face
in our photographs
you even gave one back

you wanted to go home
before midnight,
so I stole you away,
and when morning
washed away the night,
I saw the map in your complexion again,
the blotches on the top of your back,
overtired, laughing in the sun,
your eyes absolute, and on fire—
I know in this moment, I’ll always love you
but the repetition has become
a bitter poem that keeps revolving,
scares me shitless,
then kills me every time

how
the thirst leaves me,
only to return in droves
like I’m losing my fucking mind
but you need no prince

I’ll weave dreams,
move mountains,
but the hand I hold out—
you never grab it,
or fight back for me,
you just wave,
and that’s fine
if it has to be.
maybe you smell the parts of me rotten,
the cigarettes,
and kisses through rancid teeth,
and the dawn chorus of lies

you never committed to me,
if all this,
only hollow words,
flesh offered,
acts performed,
then kill me quickly,
in crimson.

“no”,
a faithful logic,
foreign only to me,
because I jump,
I leave it in, for
chance.
look up, darling—
when is it
you'll need me

you revealed yourself,
in bits and pieces,
calm, smiling by disasters
that thing you do
dare I try to understand you—
she who doesn’t fear the devil
or death,
for you know both,
so you can comfort
all thirty-six sky-diving souls,
not afraid
to be alone,
as the ground rushes closer,
that’s tragic
for me who can’t unsee
or ever think to share you

this time, unsaid,
you took the crying boy
into your arms,
but I know
it’s an exercise
that tires your back and shoulders
the movements feel practiced,
the practice feels repetitive
”here, here, now, now”
grow upward, child
my part in it
to believe
that I
was

special.

-

when spring comes,
with the warmth,
live a beautiful day in the city,
blessed by the spirit,
shake hands with god—
as the asphalt sparkles,
the water running gold
speak enthusiastically,
like you do sometimes,
in maroon.

(petrichor)

-

the outcomes don’t erase;
they leave mourning,
the proof we existed,
and if we never tattoo,
give birth.
please god,
let her give birth.