Priorities

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How could I love you

When the breath you

Breathe is another man’s

In the modern world

A person’s quality

Is weighed in empathy.

Did you mean any of it?

Or was it your guilt that

Drove you to deceive me?

Do you have time

For my playdate?

Or am I sent to the

Back of the line?

The Call of the Wild

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An equilibrium

Between pleasure and pain.

A pros and cons list

I’m running into the dark

Through the cracks

Between teeth

And into the belly

Of the beast.

She yanks my leash

Tethered to her belt

She is a walker of dogs

And I am meant for the wild,

For the freedom in independence,

Individualism

Isolation.

I jump into the abyss

Into the vastness

The sweltering stomach acid

But she still holds me by my leash

Suspended in esophagus

A moment between isolated liberty

And affectionate constraint.

The leash tightens around my throat

Her well to do

Tender noose.

Loss of Words

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These are the moments

On frost bitten edge

When a pretty face

And a well written word

Asphyxiates

Instead of astounds

When swimming lessons

Make you drown

Falling over each other

With clashing lips

When words

Can’t hurt enough.

Sen(non)se

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Same sad song

Same plain chorus

Of heart break

Self pity pop song

The I so malieable

It seems we all play off of

Cliché, clichette, shit in the red

Solo cup

Cheers, beer, insincere

And the million excuses

That make it her fault

Responsibility is drained

Like crushed cigarette bud

from stale lager

The barbed downward spiral

The words make a cell

my dull quill scratched away,

“escape”

in the aged cheddar walls.

 

My Beautiful Red Dress

stock-vector-mannequin-and-dress-304915928.jpgTo write you a poem

My beautiful red dress

Would degrade the very form

Like trash in a satin bag

Or a Queen wrestling the men on the street

Where I have seen your face

Shy from my glare

So many times before

I’m not radiating the hatred that appears

I just wish to never see you again

I’d like to make it clear

These words aren’t worthy

Of the page it’s written on

Since it is addressed to you.

You aren’t the first

To trap me in isolating ivory walls

That I assault and I rush

Charging a blind war cry

This isn’t the first glob of spittle

To hit my eye

Do not confuse your illegitimate revenge

With the spit on my face.

*This was written some time ago, and I’ve forgotten about who, if there even was a who. I do not condone assaulting significant others (I was assaulting the ivory walls!) or treating one’s significant other like shit. It’s not cool.

Armed Stars

My shooting star
The moon’s closer than you
Easier to hold
And in comparison
Its face is soft
Sentimental

You’ve always darted from me
Until I’m trained to your trajectory

I thought I had missed
I had lost you again
The smell of sulfur
And burnt pork

Every time I feel a breeze
I realize
I’m hollow Easter candy
I think of you
The hole is left unfilled
And I’m empty

I keep my chin up
with eyes on the empty
mazes of night
The graves in the sky
Hoping I’ll see you
Speeding by

I keep my mind in a haze
My eyes above the clouds
For the ground is too low
For flying birds
The ground is too hard
For bone and feather

The moon may be distant in space and thought
But when I need someone to love
Blowing kisses at the sky
The moon will be the only light
To illuminate
My stepping stones