Feel good hymn

Come on, just this once;
Put the hammer down,
Let everything be sugar unwinding in the hot sun
No one’s got time anymore so stop nailing your heart
to that oak tree
Here is a thumbtack,
This is a dedication on the radio at four am,
Here is a bottle of scotch but only three ice cubes
I’ll draw a treasure map, I’ll leave the porch light on
I’ll dance one more time with my head on your shoulder,
one more time with my palms on either side of your head
Here is a bandaid
Here is the lullaby from the night you fell asleep sighing;
Forget that ruined evening
Every missed step lands on an earth already waltzing for us
In perfect time
Tell me again how we’re made of iron and lead
Tell me again how there’s no curing this
just whiskey kisses and the lump of your pulse on your throat
Here’s the facts kid; that ache might be here to stay
But let’s press ourselves together like flowers
No more wilting, and look we’ll even cheat death
Here is the open wound you’ve convinced yourself you are
Maybe that scotch could do you some good after all
Baby, put the knife down,
Give me a better forever than our names slashed together
Anything better than a big heart, rough-cut and leaking
Baby, come inside;
the radio’s on
It sounds like the pieces all put back together,
they’re playing our song

Bunny Hill

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be lost in a quiet this decadent.  Remind me how the world stops spinning. I can tell I speak slower these days. The way my spine pulls me back towards the mattress. Hey friends-who-are-now-strangers, and the woodwork and where have you been? And where are you going? Just maybe not today. Tomorrow, definitely.
Didn’t I tell you? I’m sleeping again.
I know what this means, you know what this means.
And no, I’m not saying it has to always be that way; sunlight and sweat and sighing while you roll your eyes.
I can feel my pulse slowing in my veins
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
The way you tell me about your father and I imagine that truck, and the tens of thousands of pounds of force and curbsides.
How come the summer always holds me down this way? The winter isn’t supposed to wire anyone to stay up all night .
Everything always melts and it leaves me sprawled out on the sidewalk listening to Piebald watching the vultures circle overhead.
So I’m trying to watch the sun rise, and trying to drag my hands across keys and leave well enough alone.
I’m trying.
The sting of your palm, and gin against my tongue, and too much coffee too early and too late.
Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your left you’ll see we’re currently grasping at straws.
I am losing momentum.
Where did I go?

once bitten,. twice shy

They never write it down, do they?
what the world sounds before it comes falling down.
its the quiet; that sleepy silence and soft breath on your neck
sunlight through windows the way summer settles in on you
all of it so familiar
if people can be seatbelts, some of us are crash test dummies
We are all things, always
hitting the windshield
nerves, and glass
all flying through chaos hoping the wall doesn’t hurt so much
when we collide
this time

On Sundays I have to lie very still for a while
or else the space between my ears feels like its on fire
Here I am,
popping the clutch again
Here I am,
awake at four am again
the earth spins on an axis, nothing ever loses momentum
all
the noise and the mess, this
is an orchestra
we are all making our mothers’ mistakes
all left standing
bandages and apologies

the first sadness

i

let you kiss everything that has died here

you ask me,

about cigarettes

and you worry about me leaving

I

put them out quickly

already smoked myself down to the filter

such a funny story

those summers and

how the sunlight puts me to sleep for so long

I

cry when it gets warmer

laid in bed all day

my whole world is falling, i told you

everything

crying into your bed, the smell of aftershave

too much dog hair keeping me calm

I told myself I stopped using myself as an ashtray

I

wanted to tell you

about how my skin itched to feel

more than bruises

or your hands

the end of my cigarette

I’m scared of what will happen 

you want so badly to make me happy

 

 

3:15

I wanted to ask you what you were so scared of.
I wanted to tell you that yes, its okay to hold my hand.
I wanted to apologize for the lovers that came before me.
And for how they treated you.
I wanted to thank you for your nervous rambling.
For keeping your eyes open so late into the night.
Dear twenty hours.
I’m leaving the door unlocked.
I’m sorry I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You are everything I’m not asking for.

How are you so good at quieting these bones?

Apologies, Embers

(for the record, this is how I disappear
unhinge, un-know, unwrap myself from around the joy of you
this is every trailing thank you.
diaphanous, ethereal,mist
merely so much fog on glass
like so many other beautiful words
all
given to you instead of ‘I love you’
all
just meant to mean dissolving
dissapearing
going
going
gone)

(The thing about fire is that your hand is simply
nimble fingers outstretched smarter than your neurons can yield warning to
feels the radiant pulse of that danger
knows you are a body built of matchsticks and kindling
that the core of you is a wick
what you forget to say when you say that warmth is life
is
anything brought past its boiling point evaporates
that the sun could destroy the earth a hundred times over
but you’ll forget your body
cupping your hands around the kind of red that is an implicit warning
as you tremble
as you blister
She asks why you seem so cold
Why you hesitate
Well, why do you hesitate?
She
pulls your center towards her
doesn’t see the ignition
and here you are again
you stupid girl
aflame)

This is just to say

This is just to say
Maybe I’m a sex addict, maybe
I’m bad in bed
Maybe I need a cigarette
And maybe you hate the way I bite my nails
Maybe I sing the body electric
Maybe you’re the broken one, yes
There, I said it
Because we’re all down here speaking our mother tongue
And all you hear is jagged hiccups,
You’re too old now they say
To learn a new language
Maybe I don’t want to be your friend
Maybe your hands make me act selfish
And ours will never be an entire conversation
Maybe we’ll never make eye contact
Or know each other in a year
This is just to say
Maybe we’re not okay
And maybe I don’t see anything wrong with it

Pertinent and other P words

What do you do before the conversation.
You assume, you infer, you build cities out of moments.
You build sandcastles with full knowledge of the ocean.
What do you do in the meantime. That mean mean time. After the first date but before one or the both of you chooses a direction.

If youre me you worry, mostly. And sigh dramatically. And do nonsensical things.
(And you regulate your emotional reactions)
You map out every possibility and charter a course, avoiding as many hard continents and disappointments as possible.
The terrifying part is turning to someone and saying ‘this is what I need from you in order to stay here’
Why is that always so hard for me to say?