Tuesday, October 30, 2012

wishes (and other selfish, senseless things)

i wish that you weren't reading this. it's going to be bloody and sappy (and other disgusting, sticky things). but i know that you (and other things) are going to read it and obviously at least one of my fingers doesn't care.

i wish that i was that little bitty, blissfully stupid eight year old me riding my pink bike with bloodied knees and unruly snarled hair and koolaide stained smile speeding down the torn up alleyways of that dumpy little college town not looking both ways, not giving a shit if my legs were torn open or if a boy saw my disgusting hair, or that i was one pothole jolt away from puking my guts out from the red dye #40 which riddled that koolaide i had just recklessly downed heading home to my mother who would inevitably be smiling for me and cooking macaroni when i blew through the back door, so masterfully hiding her tears because there wasn't money for more than kraft and dad was working late giving his secretary an early holiday bonus in some sleazy trailer park two towns over so he didn't have to face my salty koolaide face (or other sad things).

i wish that four inches taller.

i wish that when it was midnight on a tuesday night and i said that i was going out to the bar by myself to drink that he would wish that i didn't want to go not because he wants to tell me not to but because he wishes that i would rather give him a kiss and crawl in our warm bed and slide his clothes off and not stop kissing him and not be thinking about drinking stale beers (and other things) next to strangers- but he knows that i'm bullshitting and that when i leave for the bar i'm actually just going to my car to turn on the heat and listen to NPR for ten minutes to see if he'll text me to give me a reason to come join him at home in our bed and of course he doesn't because he doesn't really care what the hell i do and even if he did he knows that i'd rather feel desired than drunk and anyway he's the one who will stumble in at 2am puking and reeking of smoke, not me, and so, actually, i really wish that he would rather crawl into bed with me than crawl to the bar but i'm not good at being aloof so i just cry about it and wish that i was all that he needed because when he's holding me, it's all that i need- so i wish that i didn't. cry or care.

i wish i didn't drive my grandma's old one- head-lighted mercury.

i wish that i could say this out loud.

Friday, October 26, 2012

sleep you off

i was sleeping on the shadowed side of the mountain
where it was dark, cold, and turbid
where the slivers i called eyes were also
heavy, wet, and dark blue
swelling in the deep lake i called home.
i was alone
and i was sleeping.
then you nudged me.
in the beginning
just a ripple
unsettling the surface of my dreams
and the faintest of light
throbbed in my eyes
like a hangover or a sorrow
i was saturated
you were lucid
tipping the balance in turn.
the motion jolted me awake
and i was dazed and hot and angry
burning away.
and then i wanted to sleep
in the warmth
and the bright side of the mountain
wasn't far away.
boots and tents and coins
and another mile
exhaust me
and i lay down where i am
though i don't know where i am
my eyes seal up
and tomorrow i could rest
in the warmth of your hand
if you touch it to my shadowed heart.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

in case you were looking for a light at the end of the night

fog rolls in on this city, or town as some would say.
two cities, twins, are one in the thickness
and now differences are small:
the heat on the pavement, the wetness in the air.
i can't say it will be warm in the onsetting days
but tonight the fog sleeps in the nooks of chill
waking and wrestling with the heated rain
and i remember nights like these when i was lost.
though i am still lost
i trip along sidewalks that are more promising
while strangers pass by and promise nothing.
i can't say i prefer fog to smog,
only that i sleep less soundly on concrete.
you can be my street lamp
i can be your candle.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

frolic for fall

rabbits do what foxes do, but only when they're willing. on forest trails or concrete alleys. they dig and and save and tease and nuzzle until they're sure they're not dinner.

foxes do what rabbits do, in turn with seasons, colors, magics and evenings. they chase and sleep and elude and wink until their paws are kissing.

Monday, October 15, 2012

to my dearest bastard, sleep

at 3am you're flushed like an adulterer's pink skin in the late hours of affairs and when you roll over i'm feeling cheated and exhausted and you've got that sweaty smirk again. just before you creep away you suck away the last warmth from the sheets and i am cold and nearly naked. i don't know why you had to go. i know that i've been needy and dependent and weepy. but you're never here and when you are i'm afraid that you're going to light a match in the night and be gone at the flicker of my eyelids. do you remember the night that you never came home? i've never felt so lost. i threw up twice and drank some wine and took some pills and you still never showed. i would have changed the locks but we both know i'm too weak without you and all you have to do is lay in bed with me once and i'll forget everything else. so you've got the upper hand. you always fucking have. i'm just desperate enough now to admit it. when i was younger you used to be all over me. i couldn't keep you off. we'd lay twisted in the sheets until noon. i'm still that girl but i suppose i perfected playing hard to get and you liked it so well that now that's all you want. it's time to relax and stop playing games. so i've got plans for you tonight. i've cried enough over you and i'm done trying to understand or sway you. stay or leave, either way i'll be wide awake.

slippery pulse

she asks what happens to me
when everything is falling apart
i can feel my blood pulsing under her fingers

just a surface burn
on my skin
shaped like a cigarette

a sore muscle
in my shoulder
from heavy a weight

a headache
between my sutures
crushed by paperbacks

a heart attack
in gaping mouths
when i can't sleep

i answer her with tears
and then i say "tears"
because i know what it means to fall apart
and i wonder how deep my injuries go

she feels slippery spots and my pulse disappears