188. wish.list

the sound was of warm, softened metal
melting against the sweat of a little girl's palm
then sifting through the air

glowing brown and twisting in the sunlight
a whizz and a plunk
and it slipped into a well

full, filled with well spent prayers
drowning in a forgotten bed
of whispers, kisses and sighs

later it bloomed a quarter; this time hotter
in the fist of a budding mistress
mistaking money
for good tidings and godly things

then it burned; a young lady
lighting candles at the sacre coeur

her broken french
begging in the half-light
and leaving a euro
to purchase better measures

for all the songs
she never knew how to sing

now with a pen,
she sketches out the lessons
in rounded notes, with lovely tails

vibratto and staccatto; their desperate verses
so long winded from the shame

burning their metal holes
into her memory; plink, plink, plink
these psalms fall like heavy bolts
from her pockets

(barely holding her together now)

into the well, where echoes still
the silver tongue of misguided youth

it's fairy wings beating
but spelling and spending nothing still

in the dimly lit shadows
of darkened truths

above the flames

187. a.marked.man

there were three, three, three cracks
down the side of my palm

like fissures

their dark marks slowly running fault lines
(quietly now, beating on the inside)
resonating music; heavy, wrong and hard
straight into my belly

like a heavenly curse; an arrow
tum...tum...tum
(and then the silence)

as i pull a piece of you
temporarily closer to my heart
until the moment i tear, tear,
tear it away
(soon)

it's strange how flesh never lies

but you and your teeth
and your eyes
and your hands
and your mouth
mixing with your hot head;

so sick with the toxin
of your damned, damned,
damned broken virtues

the blood that beats
through your broken head
and down, down, down
to where you make your mark

like an arrowsmith; so long in the feather
and so short in the metal

you fly like a screaming bird
(thin, flawless and unbearably light)
through my heart;

never leaving nothing, nothing, nothing
but the boarish, wheezing sound of madness
and a ripple
(with sloppy bleeding tethers of regret)
behind.

186. fool.ish go.ld

saw you singing
with a dime store
electric piano
between your knees

on stage, lit like a marionnette

your hands weaving a song
so loud
out of invisible heartstrings

the walls vibrating
the atmosphere shaking
and the room filling

too much with your voice

it came off the walls
and spilled into me

the words were not mine
though the letters
left their phrases
in my memory

just like a waking dream
but too, too much just like everything

playing itself into
and out the other side
of itself (again)

no matter how far
i pull it into my soul
and stretch it over my skin

it turns into beautiful silence
in the end

185. waterf.alls

behind your eyes, white water moves
like long fingers tracing colorful blinds

...or lashes over the stream

covering the glass, concealing a sunrise

it's just too hot in your wake
to pull back the shades
and meet your lightness
half way

you want too much the darkness

and i'm sliding through these sharp blades
melting slowly into the warm space
between the cracks

moving like liquid sun
into the heat of your reflection

pressing my hands into the steam
helplessly
i'm slipping into the atmosphere alone

brewing you into my skin
as i trace your beautiful figure
into the clouds

these images move like running water
farther and farther
but always too still

so i retire this tiresome impotent muse;
who never did nothing but drown out my sighs

running down my skin endlessly
in nothing but sweat
to the grave

184. sci.addict

the heart won't wait

as the xray machine damns the message
bleeding through the lightning
for thinking it could

it's reflections marred
by the truth in blackened film images
tacked up on a wall

all that blood building up
slowly behind it

and receding

the rays look like sunshine
burning through the trees
after the rain

i can still smell your cologne
suffocating me
through the cocktail stained napkins
we held up to my face (together)

all those nights i let my eyes go dark
in front of you
as the bright lights took over

and you just led me away like dessert

unsafe into your home
where you pulled me slowly apart
then left me behind

overfed

i'm still shuffling my feet
down 6th avenue
wondering where you've gone

waiting for my stop

these arteries just lonely beating
broken bloody memories
into the machine.

183. last.one.standing

how'd you know i'd never hurt you

lifting me up, up to the kitchen ceiling
with my little arms and legs
wrestling against it all

so tangled and taught, full of distrust and longing

when the other girls spelt father:
d-a-d-d-y
i just bit my tongue

and one time all the way through

when all i wanted was to call your name
in so many syllables
into the darkness
'til you might come running

i wonder if you could hold me up now

maybe if you could see my aging arms
almost as thin as last i saw your human frame
you'd call it even

together, like scarecrows, we'd frighten
everyone who never understood

in our way

your soul could still drink me under the table
wherever your will has gone

you and that god-damn camera you never knew how to use

picturing me while painting a white picket fence
or scratching at my chicken pox
helplessly

flashbulbs popping inappropriately
while my fingernails cut moon shaped scars
down the side of my face

those lost years are etched into my skin
like a map

covered in paint and hidden in rolls of undeveloped film
leading nowhere

all those hand wringing moments thereafter
when i knew i never wanted no one
to love me like that; not ever

even as i hung out the bathroom window
with a cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth

hiding while you laughed aloud
from that sewer strawberry patch
you grew over the septic tank

younger than that yet, i'll never forget
your hands firmly planted on my shoulders

guiding me on a wooden sled, aiming me right for the ramp

your eyes twinkling from the spoon fed glory
you forced down my throat

when i was still biting down

my mittens frozen to its sides
afraid to let go
and unable to walk away

now i stand in the darkness
white knuckled
always pushing away your invisible frame

still learning how to fly

182. tum.my.trou.ble

i'm peeling grapes
(terrified)
separating the fruit
from the spiders:

filled with the terror
of not wanting it to hurt -

my skin crawling and teeth chattering
each time i bring down
another full set

their tiny green legs and stingers
scrape across my hands and arms

wiping them away feels so safe
until their bodies crumble
under my hands

my hunger wondering
if their blood tastes
like grape juice; or wine -

hot after it churns
through the adrenaline
of losing it
and losing everything

it spins it's way
through misfired spiderwebs
burning (finished)

and accidentally spun
like liquid
through my fingers

into soul.