i can’t stand to be behind what it is you do to be kind to the mental state of those around you

i talk to myself late in the night trying desperately to rewrite the codes stuck on spindly dendrite ends waiting for me to pretend i’m like all of you

and that’s true

except nights i understand my value

when you can find me on the front page of blank blank blank “today” or “telegraph” or whatever you want to call the pages splattered pollack like with information only relating a tradition that we have some connection to seeking truth

can you find me one?

a genuine, truthful, gentle heap of flesh who doesn’t cling to preparation for the next life

more strife?

i’m struggling to see through your blue blocker haze, it left me for days writhing in pain, as i slowly chiseled my words in stones outside your house until the reality that we can’t exist in a moment is captured and placed in a cage holding my head still watching the bird slowly lose the need for wings, and evolve into a position on the food chain as fodder alone

give or take the son-of-a-bitch

and those were the words you decided to hitch your family wagon on while slamming two for five dollar drinks with enough chemical energy chewing it’s way through ignorant nerves to cause you to swerve, and wish i’d cut you off, so you could go off, blow off, the head of a traitor only trying to find truth in the folded fabric of a flag used to brag that somehow you understand the past better than i, problem is, you never read a book

radio stations are modern day campfires where oral-tradition lies will give us another enemy-battle cry, or hero to try, and maybe this time it’ll be more believable than a white skinned man coming back from the dead

your sins won’t save you, neither will your disfigured dreams donning the newest fashion

you’re fucked

intelligence

reversed reverence for what we might see walking forward

yet, we were signaled to stay put

wiggling defiantly through cracks in the foundation poured by the great-grandparents of dissidents who cease to pay homage to horrors displayed ensuring we can play with like-skinned caregivers

i coughed up the blood of my mothers birth

caught it in my hand

salty, full of sin, and preposterous

stupefied by language used to continue the spew of opinions without substance

i try to forget everything i know

reborn

innocence

while opening the door to your mistakes

i was worried about you

wondering where you were hiding in a house you wouldn’t leave

comfort is the only thing i could rely on you needing, certainly not me

i opened every closet door slowly, a whiff of your memory wafted by the door as hinges creaked and i slowly peaked panting begging-breathes that you were ok

hide-and-go seek

i counted past ten, to twenty, i forgot how old you were, “i’m coming!”

you were in, and around, every corner

a piece of you

slippers wanted, never worn

family games shrink wrapped, never torn

children’s clothes, waiting to be born

he won’t be

to you

i can’t continue carrying my blood stains as a measure of our mistakes, misfortunate lakes-of-love, we used to paddle around in peddle boats pushing in unison to a shore where we found soft fertile ground waiting to be penetrated, holding the one memory we could have clung to

we didn’t, it proved to be fruitless

rains came and washed our seeds away

we saw it as wasted time

i need to get my stuff and go, i’ll leave the doors open, come out when you’re ready

i’ll never know

i’m sure it’s viable

if that’s the way you choose to live

reliable

if that’s the way you choose to give

undeniable

if that’s where you choose to go

i left the disheveled cushions alone after i got up from the new yellow couch you bought from a friend

you looked confused

dressed for another occasion while i sang the blues for a god different than yours

she breathed fire and kept her pants down to fulfill the desire that comes before sundown and i ran to tell the others what you said

you pushed past caring

it was jarring, rewiring

soldering synapse connections, joining dendrites dipped in cynicism’s death-trap

i never was good at selling myself

the way you beat your chest whispering nothing into the side of my face, my good side

the cushions weren’t the only thing i pressed into and walked away from

you’ll never be the same, the cushions will regain an appearance of moments ago

with the right lift and push

you’ll be on the side of the road waiting for something to pick you up long before that couch is used for the last time

i should have picked up after myself

but that would have left you

nothing to remember me by

the shift was subtle

yet

you noticed

nuance

understanding the incremental movements dedicated to lovers claws reaching my back in shared moments of ecstasy and rage, a temporary impression to let them know to stay away, it’s our push-and-pull to find control an exercise soaked in toxin sweat hoping to bleed out everything wasting inside of me since the age of six

damage i couldn’t predict

festering poison that pulsed through my veins, determining ways i kept myself sane is now free to reign in its own pool of pity left to soak in sheets made by hands we never shake

subtlety, did i lose it somewhere?

we walked out the door, different directions, figuring we’d meet later

shit

were we having the same interaction?

was i misinterpreting your sighs and moans, thinking they were pleasure tones, all the while boredom and bent bones

those were condescending groans waiting for me to stop?

wait, which was it? is it?

did we connect how i thought, what’d i think, i was pleasure filled, vulnerable, and full of stink, naked, stranded between being god and realizing this doesn’t matter

i stumbled back into you, eating a burger on vinyl lined benches

your smile indicated nothing

that’s when i stopped caring and turned my senses off, lessening the impact

that i’m lost

*two today – a block has arrived

#1

i didn’t know you wouldn’t be there

i thought this was our life

i thought i could let go

i thought more than you did

you were too busy making excuses, for desires i didn’t share

your words

i had just healed, from decades old blunt edge memories slicing my shoulder blades

i took a long time to heal

under your tutelage

then

like i suspected, but forgot

i was opened back up, spilling secrets i forgot to keep

you walk out of rooms you can’t win, my wounds seep, what we shared

lies

you couldn’t show up

to watch our creation

drip into porous public bathroom floors

joining

everyone else

#2

walk across stages of life

raised above those who have come before with hand movements, tears, and smiles affirming and wishing you will take this thing further

direction?

i can’t tell you that one

go left

then right

wait, it’s later than we thought

you should have left hours ago to a place where sorrow goes, this coward act will never be enough to root you in a place firmly embedded to sunday night dreams

i wake and realize we’re still here, granted another day to wish away your spoiled-milk smile leaving me listless and in denial that a river holds answers, that you won’t make the same mistake that helped the snake hold a grin through first sin, a forked tongue finding its way into me

i’ll shed my skin

and slither on