Back Again

I've yet to understand how hand

in hand could feel as normal as

lips to lips and yet send shivers

up and down my spine, while

beads of sweat keep time

trailing from my brow into

squinted eyes.

Happy Birthday to Me

Youth cast off absent obligations
and baby fat and grew into maturity
which wrinkled and creased until
it folded into old age, which looked down
at the infant bouncing on it's wrinkled
knees and thought, well damn.

I'm getting too old for this shit.

I Forgot Why I Came

My eyes open to images of snipped sinew,
joints popped by gnashing molars,
earlobes ripped apart by incisors.

It's strange to watch yourself
shred from the inside out,
thumb poised on self-destruct.

I drown as my lungs fill up with blood,
choking as I swallow words,
guard my pride in the pit of my writhing stomach.

There's a foot print on the wrong side
of the door.
I can't stop knocking.

Merry Christmas

Build me out of fire.
Spin me out of coal.
Trade all your lot for a second
Chance your luck on now.

I've thrown in all my pennies.
I've coated every wish
in roses that reek of blood
stained bandaged wrists.

By tomorrow I've forgotten
every promise made yesterday.
But today I'll rock myself
to sleep, and wish someone my
soul to keep.

When I think of Munch

What would it feel like to be on fire?
It's mentioned in desire and hatred equally,
in areas of lust and in moments of pain,
where loathing or passion consume.

I can close my eyes and imagine mouths
distorted in mishapen Os of misery,
flesh melting like candle wax,
crisping like turkey skin, well-done.

In my mind, fingers blacken and curl,
over-ripe bananas that burst at the tip,
and blisters colonize tender areas like
upper lips and forearms.

Right now, I feel as if I've doused myself
in a barrel of water after the burn,
and I'm screaming soundlessly underwater
as my skin sloughs off in tallow chunks,
rising to the surface.

Stomach Virus

Inside the braces laden molars
you tripped a trap that left me
sprawling, falling, tumbling, head
over hells, that sprung in 9 circles
of geometric unpleasantness.

Brick fences popped up like daisies
which swung wildly back and forth
while chanting radio jingles
and spewing fortune cookies axioms
that cracked my skull into confetti.

I trolled the Claddagh for foreign tongues
and slanted eyes and skin thick enough
to stave off the burn of gas lamps and pocket
rockets and a sun bright enough to let me
see you clearly.

Just the Two of Us

You'll grind my bones to make your bread.
I'll leave the bread until it molds.
We'll eat sandwiches from dawn to dusk,
and toss away the crusts.

A penny saved is a penny pinched,
and you'll pinch copper 'till it bleeds.
Leave fear shaped footprints in your wake
and me to sit and seethe.