from a chair, inhaling the last of your stare

drenched in her tears i stepped into the hallway shared by all the other fourth floor door dwellers stinking of fried chicken, body fetor, and incense

none of which were winning the odor war, an amalgamation of whiffs running wildly through our rooms

all but tuna

tuna sat in the corner waiting for the stench to reach its threshold

then, without hesitation, he’d zoom center stage through draft ways and air vents

nobody welcomed him

he wafted alone through bed sheets and hanging drapes, living in garbage bin tossed tin can creases

festering in mouth corners

absorbed in crumbly crusts left on plates for tomorrow’s cleaning

blasting our senses, giving way to other impressions

biding time

for the next unleashing

resting on your breathe

before the door shut, i turned around and took my final look

sorry for the last time

if i could click my heels i’d be back with her

the her before her, that’s right before you

for years i penetrated the aura swirling around

thinking i could make a new sound pound from the ground you stood on and around

i’ve learned

nothing’s wasted

if we walk away with something

it’s my turn

i’ll dry my shoulders

lift off your weight

make my way down the hall

it’s never too late

to inhale the sweet smell of something new

from a hotel bed, the privilege to consider prestige


thoughts take up daylight clouding my vision and fading the only thing i have to hold onto

but she is lying

i know that

perfectly packaged material arrives everyday strategically shared to paint a picture.

i’m the emotional artist

get out of my studio and save the sales pitch for the finger fuck suit down the hall who sips steady shots of alcohol (he knows them all) and i can’t twist anymore with these images of time left open and the draft that came through only kept me in the know of what travesties you were trying to take back from the waking world reality we all live in

those were my words

the ones you carefully jotted in a notebook for everyone to see

those were my words

the ones i flung out before considering drenched in a tear filled raw exchange of exactly how i was feeling

i feel

you think

throw the fucking last years in with the kitchen sink

here it all comes

how do i get your attention to see the world isn’t planned and pleated, written and deleted

before presentation

my walk is my pitch

i will never switch to save my own face

i could care less what i look like

honesty is ugly

the roots dig deeper and i become immovable

there’s a breeze

i sway

you break

good bye

from a stool, hours early

i’m the drone picking up the phone, listening to thoughts alone, without a deafening end-of-the-road dial tone

give this dog a bone

i’m going home

to encounter memories with drawn on faces

catching up to residual synthetic traces of time left behind

hit the rewind and scroll

i’m going for a stroll with the one i extol for lending an ear to my pulse rising pedantic platitudes piling up to nesting bird’s homes as they ready to relocate with weather’s winds


i’m staying here

come on in

i’m alone on my couch

catching up with the contoured creases that comfort me as i stare into this rectangular glow

reaching out

pretending you’re all with me

sit close

let’s make this real

temptation will steal away thoughts that make this deal worth taking

grab me

shake these pebble demons from my troubled mind

help me move on

away from you


from bed, battle drums

stranded somewhere between east and west lines that divide a world only spinning for our comfort

every night she positions herself in a bed designed for two where the fate of another shrew is tamed and told where to whistle contrary tunes that pound through puckered lips parading past arm powered ships setting sail to island fantasies waiting in polluted oceans for us to conquer, or douse in gasoline and set fire

leaving constant reminders of human desires to contemplate death while passing through moon phases predicting the flow of life-stopping blood

bustling between scars left by the constant consideration that somewhere, something, somehow is better than the ticking clock we throw back and forth now bowing to unrequited lovers leaving for another zone to practice their polite panting exercises

let’s stop with the please and thank you’s

and understand

head nods and need are enough

stranded implies i can’t leave

there’s a way out


from bed, we’ll rise to their surprise

stand still

look around

focus on where the measure of a human is found

resting in dew drops dripping through fall leaf furls, cascading over ripples, rolling from red to yellow, finally forming a single tear




soaked into story telling soil, spreading and climbing up spindly dendrites sucking to stay alive, splitting paths to where the needs reside


the rain stopped yesterday, dry air deadened our breath

we had enough to sustain

for a few hours

until we fell on crackling brown leaves lifting powder black dust passionately puffed into plumes signaling our demise

the formation and rise of a phoenix bringing rain

a chance to love again

from bed, go back to then

“…a tree falling…”

i couldn’t hear the last part

creative cashing-in

beveled blades that transfer wealth

i crept beside her

listening to the steam rise from forest floors

casual benefits


shrugged silence

broken trials




we couldn’t keep up


still life

left listless in language-less hallways


echoing dance steps stranded in anxieties alien shoes


bring me back home

under her draped past

arms that welcomed

a few million

others came under her dress

around a breast

out of reach

couldn’t spare her breath

pass a test

one in four


they watched you erect her


i’ll believe you when you say it happened

i can’t hear their words

if i’m not in the room

from bed, ready for it

reveal those parts that others relate to and relish in the reaction that we are all revolving around the same renegade revelations that connect our retail rate emotions simmering in caldrons of disjointed sustenance ensuring we are all fed before bed distanced from dread calculating new measures of what it takes to open our eyes when mornings draw open our shades

we know the new dawn will bring us to understanding the ticking of time created by a mime who acts out the sunshine spreading its wings to open mist fields of starlings feeding and catching wind

flocking in sequence

taking turns with no sense

what it means to be alone

we can imitate

climb out of fear fate

feel the feather’s beat in rhythms meant to join us once again to common goals.