This is old

Thanksgiving Dinner I feel like I'm all spit and fire but that fire will burn out someday and then I'll just be a pool of saliva on the dirty ground. You lift your fork from your plate and stare into my face with a curious, scientific look in your eye and stab between my ribs, twist and crunch against the bones, fork tines pulling and ripping flesh. It hurts. Especially when you stop suddenly, and go back to eating your dinner like nothing has happened, I sit with blood dripping from my chest, wincing as I try to pull air into my punctured lung, a slight bubbling, rasping sound coming with each attempted breath. I watch you chew and sip so meticulously.. I hope you choke.

heart...stop
so fast it's become a whirring buzz in my chest
that clicks and pauses when I think of you
then resets to the dizzying pace
my head feels so light and airy
there's tiny animals dancing lightly on my arms and chest
I can reach through your skin
your fingers link through mine and make everything safe
where have you been
I knew the second I saw you I have been making mistakes
and that I had found a matching piece to my puzzle
I couldn't keep my eyes off of your face
I wanted to take in every single freckle and line
I didn't want to miss a smile or a word
I stared at the line between your chest and your arm
and thought of how perfect it was although just a random part of you
I want your voice back in my ear
your twinkling horribly mischievous eyes looking back at mine
I can't even explain with my tired mind right now
I just know I found something I want
and I can't think of much else

for the birds

someone made me smile
and then I started drawing birds
crudely lined little cartoons
silly whimsical curious creatures
that put the smile on my face
like him
I feel like they're flying all
around my head
not dizzying but fluttering
my face and hair softly
with their tiny yellow wings
I want to make you things
I want to fill the space around us
with things that flutter
so you can feel this
so you can dissolve into the air with me

click, whirrr........

I fall in love over airwaves and phone lines.  I can't remember the last time I had feeling I could feel.  It's slow at first but coming quicker now, tingling and shaking. I think, I think I'm alive...

It's all become a nothing now.  There seems to be nothing left here but a hollow, empty shell.  There is a slight curiosity as to where everything has gone... wasn't there once a viscious hate and a bristling , seething fire that couldn't wait for opportunities to strike out and lacerate and burn anything that came close enough?  Is it miraculously gone, disappeared...or has it evaporated or sublimated into another form...or is it there but masked and hidden so far down that not even the tiniest glint of light or air can reach it...  Should searching take place, should it be uncovered or found again?  Or would that bring back the potentially apocolyptic storm that once reigned over every day and night?  Should asking even be an option...

this is all feeling it's feeling like a whir and a mess and an upside-down backwards universe where everything is the plainest most awful form of itself. I want to go back to heartache and hurting and caring and wishing and loving and wanting. I want to be able to make things and yearn for things and feel things. I want all of the falsity to go away. I miss listening. I miss this feeling. I want to go away. I am so stuck now, more than I ever was...I never really was before and I feel stupid for saying that. I don't even have words anymore. I've killed my mind and my emotions and my wanting and my everything. I am a fool.

I'm sorry

I have more. an interrupted stream of sparking electrons
whispers tendriling slowly outward and wrapping around me
you...
surprise me
and...
not.

and then again.


and I can't stop

let's
ta;ke the time
make the ti'me
break time
I want to jump through the surface separating and
live in the other dimension for a while
I haven't figured out how yet but it seems more and more possible
if you ask me again I might make it there
i might never come back

I have an awful headache from the sniffling. Flickering from the lamp makes ghostly shadows on the walls, taunting my restless mind even more. The sleep is far from comforting and does not take away the fatigue as it is meant to.
My mind wanders over and under, in and out of all the possible nooks and crannies and hideaways of the problems and perspectives. There is a veritable dent forming on the bridge of my nose from spectacles resting their weight there. A knot in the base of my throat from sickness or worry or both I can be sure.
Thoughts of sharp dull searing crackling relief are on my brainwaves. Only moments of despair and shock and then a distraction from the aching of decision-making.
My head does ache so awfully.

the single-cell shark

"It's not the single-cell shark," you tell me.
But I knew that.
It's a mess and you design it
destroying distant blue galaxies
while sipping on viscous sin.
I bring you a crisp white linen napkin
to wipe your lips
so the cordial doesn't stain them red.
I take care to not impinge
while cleaning small drops of spilled liquid.
Keeping my head down I strain my eyes to the side
until they have an uncomfortable ache,
trying to catch a glimpse of the screens your glazed eyes ceaselessly scour.
I see foreign letterings and faces from many of the known worlds.
You shift in your chair and I dart my eyes back to the floor, my
heart feeling like it has stopped and racing at the same time, my
stomach in a knot.
"You've done quite enough there."
Your tone is cool and quiet, and it sends an awful chill
down my back.
Hastening out of the room
I get one last look at the melange of secrets that is your work
as I pull the heavy wooden door shut.
The bolt clanks loudly and echoes in the dark hall.

night

I felt my hipbones digging into the mildly soft bed
and started thinking of writing
and then reading the writing
and then regretting

I am an open and shut case of disaster
a myriad of ineligible words, half-told stories, soft-spoken declarations
I thought we were going somewhere
my plane, now weighted down with extra baggage, was cruising along above the treeline
though not so high, it was sweet air that rushed around us
dips into the dark forest started, and I tried to pull up, again and again it happened...
we finally crashed

the pieces are everywhere
I can't even find some
there's rotting flesh all over the woods, entrails hanging from the branches, blood spattered on the fallen leaves
the bones, the bones are dry and brittle, cracking, I don't know if I can rebuild it this time

Perhaps I'd best use some manmade materials
circle the joints with copper wires
find steel plates to reinforce the wings
maybe a control or two at the front to help me with the steering
and to avoid future mishaps and fatal crashes

I need you

it is all too much for this aching head
the simplest thing would seem to be bed
but even that has lost its appeal
and the only rest would be to feel
to feel the sand underneath my soles
to hear the ocean as the sea wind blows
to smell the salt wafting in the air
to feel your hand in my tangled hair
being away somewhere with you
is the only thing I ever want to do

that's not fair or nice

tasteless tauntless wantless skinless
spine-curling wrist-cracking flesh-bruising throat-numbing
licking frosting tainted with metallic viscous liquid
tracing circular spiraling swirls around the dark wet spots in the dirt
"I miss you slightly," I think and push up the spectacles that have slid down the bridge of my nose
use teeth to retrieve a splinter from under one jagged nail
the time? the time?
check my waistcoat pocket and yes the watch is still there
my hands shake slightly as I pull out the timepiece and flick it open
there are the dials, the years months days hours and minutes that have been decided without my approval.
fingers fumble the cover back shut and slip the clock away into it's dark warm home
the specter leers overhead, it's shadowy form drifting back and forth
I make sure to keep my eyes focused downward to my startling savage display
my earthen table set with the special occasion silver
and the magnificent mangled corpse that was your abode

from the notes

note

push my fingers into the skin of your
arms through the surface to the
pulsing veins and sinews below

I feel alone.

all my wonder is gone

I could sit all day
and wait for you to grace the room
down the stairs like they're
not there
lace your hands in your strings

oh back room breathing
dissipating feelings of static
interactive thoughts and speaking
show me all the way through this thing, love

show me all the things you love, love
show me how to care
you can break each bone with careful fingers
shatter me with breaths of air

it's...

1, 2, 1, 2
fuzzy inside my head
like a blissful tingling static from a television
tickling my skin my brain spins labyrinths of splendorous thought
do you feel the space there all around you pressing in and pulling out your shape
melt and meld with the humidity in the air it's the water all part of it

it would mean more if...

you had less than twenty sides total
if the solutions didn't involve salt water hazy spaces or burning liquid
if your eyes were real and not glass
I tumble over and over and fall face down in the muck
you're busy talking and don't see it happen
I pull myself out, gasping and spitting out murky water and dirt
and hobble over to where you stand, wiping wet strands of hair back from my face
you don't even glance at me as I come up by your side
I struggle to make my breaths quieter, less haggard
I sound like a dying animal
she looks at me and smiles smugly
I shake and clench my fists feel my nails dig into the palms and draw blood
she scrunches up her nose cutely (disgustingly) and looks back to you
I look as well but you are busy conversing with three others through radiowaves and electric signals
I look down trying to keep the devil inside