God, I'm Hungry

I have a secret drawer
I keep my lovers there
I hide them under my father's obituary
and one of the few medals
I ever won
You never gave me a letter
and I had to steal a photo
so I have little to keep
and fewer places to remember them
stuck between the pages of some volume
I hid my hunger
the petals of a different love
and I forgot about them
someday in the mountians of books
that fill my bookcases
I will stumble across it again
and remember something
feel something
trace those pressed edges
and peel up the corners
my underneath
never really forgets
I move on
but I am not the kind
to ever really let go
it's always under there
somewhere
maybe stuck to the underside of the desk
weighed down by old trinkets
but I never really
let my love for you go
I am as dusty
as a dust jacket
crinkled like ancient paper
I pressed myself in those pages long ago
between those covers
petrified like old cookies
warm as chocolate tea
that's where I keep my secret hunger
folded and bent
under a thousand feet
of broken heart pieces
with the curse
of a good memory
and the prying apart
of tenderest lips

yeux vers

"I just don't feel right,
unless I see my lover every night"

garnet lipped dips
beyond the hem of the skirt
the flirt
sliding up against you
green eyes fading into the dark
where is her spark?

she screams in the deepness
pants at the edge of the bed
she's so wrong
and will never be right

but your fingers sink into her skin
your tongue finding her mouth so sweet
and the heat
from her
burns
and turns
ecstasy traveling up your limbs

and she fights
against you
for you
to be near you

slips into the night
breathless
reeling on the edge of the dance floor
her eyes ever searching for you
trying to find you in the smoke
green eyes following you down the stairs
and to the back room

you hate her
pretty but wrong
wrong shape
wrong thoughts
wrong balance
wrong dreams
wrong place
wrong time

she comes back
sweet green eyes and stolen kiss
anger and hurt
simmering just underneath them
every night you can feel her thinking about you
loving you
crying for you
under the weight of a thousand bad dreams

and you won't come
you'll feel right
in flight
and find that better lay
proper
balanced
obedient
a better day
and you'll feel just right

she's the burden you long to leave
and never can
green eyes heave
and bury themselves without you ever noticing

Near Sighted Nebulas

how badly am I desolate
apocalyptic heart
in futile lands
searching for Apache Skin
he sees not
hears not
and waits for me
on the edge of my vision
I turn and he turns away
I came for skin
and some kind of love
but I tripped
on the rungs of reality
only on chemical waves
do I thrive
only on those days
when my eyes
roll all the way back
to the dawn of time
the dawn of nothing
alcoholic memoirs
crevice brain
those tunnels in vision
those fingers
poking holes
in my membranes
I saw it in my dreams
I know what he needs
I saw it in my nightmares
and ripped the head
from its many arms
all empty heart
come fill me up
come fill me with your sour seed
Apache Skin
come on home
where wildness grows
in thick thorny beds
up the side of my skull
come on home
and nestle down in these canyons
of flesh
I'm waiting
and I have swallowed the worlds
in my galaxy of eyes
just for your enjoyment

Christ Chuck, What Next?

all these beautiful broken boys
and not one of them named Christ

I would break fingers with hammers
if I thought it would do any good
but saints feel no pain

and hate you when you press against them

I should have sold my soul
in a buyer's market
but now it's dirty and useless
like an old condom

and pretty boys don't want it anyways

saints hate to get dirty
and I live in mud

who the fuck let
all those wispy eyelashed looks in here?
sleeping at my shoulder
caressing my breasts
and whispering in my ear
that they love me
but only under the right conditions

like heavy alcohol
and heavier drugs
maybe when they are deep inside you

possibly if I was drowning in the bath
or maybe falling from the sky
on fire
like a comet of whore-like intentions
and a great big fucking
ball of promises

that I was never going to keep

Charles Bukowski said,
"Find what you love and let it kill you."

but I don't think the crusty old fucker meant like this
achingly slowly
my brain on fire every night
my cunt throbbing
waiting

humped over like a toad
creeping in the night
to slip down some unsuspecting victim's throat
and squeeze the air out of their heart

fucking saints
and their saintly touch
and their saintly fucking ways
and their beautiful eyes
and flowing hair
and silken skin
and stupid fucking sympathies

fucking kill me and get it over with
love me to death
so I can get up
and get that glass of whiskey
I've been thirsting for like blood
I need a shower
and maybe a plasma transfusion
so I can linger with the ghost of your cock still inside me

and by the way
you can tell Christ
when you see him next
that I told him
he should come down here
to pound in his own goddamn nails

my hammer is broken
and I'm tired of crucifixion anyways

Quick Skin

curl your fingers around those green eyes
you cannibal man
eat me

I am not home
even when you found me here
tossing bottles out the window
and telling you to be quiet
so as to leave the neighbors
undisturbed

they are disturbed enough already

our minds plush
flushed like my thigh resting upon you
too white
too smooth
too much of what you want
fleeing into the night

peering out from under a curtain of hair
lips soft as moths
beating against the glass
the thrum in time to the vibration
where the world started
and I ended

you make choices
I make consessions
we make decisions
and you hate yourself in the morning

full banged on with a head clouded with stars
my mouth still lingering of your taste
your scent following me like a ghost
until I wash it from my skin
and skitter down the drain
to follow drowned goldfish
through the rusty pipes to the sea

we saw the same moon
said the same name
thought the same thought
and you feared me for it

you pushed me for it
slipped your fingers inside me for it
tasted me for it
nibbled little pieces of me for it
and spat me back out

yet you still
save my velvet name
until the next time
you are drunk
and the black night tells you
I don't want to be alone

When You Come Around

love can be molded with nips of teeth
against gentle pink skin
in secreted smile
and long distance phone calls

you can be a bird
and wish for cannon balls

or you can be stuck where you are
standing in the shower
with your hands below your waist

you can laugh until you fall off the couch
heavy lidded
inhaling sticky sweet drugs down into your lungs

or you can be a bug
under the floorboards
scurrying from fat cat paws

love can be a warm bed
a warmer body
and clean sheets crisp against the night air

you can whirl around the dance floor
pushing the grabbing hands away
and billowing up to the sparkling lights

faces can be video lines
lips parted to a glowing 'o'
we can be naked
to the gentle blue flickering
of another day in TV static

o' hands of mine
be swift in time
and I shall lay my head
at your feet

with heavy breasts
and your name tattooed on my hips
I will be waiting
for the day when you come around

Bed-Bugged

I would not suggest to you
an extended vacation in my bed

for I toss and I turn
and I find myself uncomfortable
all the night long

I really am
a terrible bet
and a bear in the morning

do not dip your hand
below my waistband
in an attempt
at playful dawn reforestations

I might take it upon myself to bite you
to nip at your fingers
until you shriek
and take your hand back from me

I have sharp teeth
and I enjoy the taste of fingerprints

I am not particularly fond of your morning halitosis
I prefer to keep all the blankets to myself
your breath is making my neck hot
and I want my pillow back

no matter where I plan my legs
yours seem to be a tangle in the way
my arm has gone to sleep
while I plot my revenge with my own pins and needles

you are on my hair again
as you latch your hands onto my breasts
I am rolling and rolling and have nearly
rolled clean off the bed

I wish you would stop trying to sleep on top of me
didn't you read the sign on the way in
written in bold letters above the doorway?
It states my positions quite clearly:

"Don't Plan On Long Stays,
Please Depart With A Minimal Amount of Fuss,
You See, I'm Trying To Sleep,
And In All Actuality I Probably Hate Your Guts."

A Rust Coloured Season

when our skin met in the summer
you let your jitters get the best of you
laughing nervously in my ear

but your hands rested on my hips
as you followed my swaying rump
up the stairs
to a room that only existed outside
under a canopy of green needles
and sun dappled cheeks

I spent those summer nights
sitting nakedly on my deck
uncaring about my spying neighbors
drawing on my pipe
watching the smoke swirl into dim images
in the moonlight

I watched the deep green ivies creeping up the wall
listened to the little tippy tapping of the water
down smooth rocks
letting myself drift back to that white beach
watching the sun touch your skin with a deep brown
as I lay in the sand
and cursed the silence

the surf took my heart
and sent it to sea
on a boat built of drift wood
and floating seaweed
it is still drifting out there
bobbing up and down with the fishing birds
sitting on the tide
diving after
little fish swarming around the rocks
looking to nibble at your pink toes

our skin shining in the dripping wetness
as we stood on the beach and watched the sun set
listened to the waves lap at our souls
someone had to say something
but the words did not come
the silence grew up
and covered over my mouth
my tongue
wanting to gently touch your lips
stuck firmly inside my head
and sealed with the heat

the ocean called my name
as the moon rose
told me to go home
where I could dream of your arms
your trembling lips
your velvet skin under my fingers
in a haze of gentle drugs
and creativity set lose
on an unsuspecting world

Vicious Poetry

with her hand clenched tight over my mouth
she reached down
and exacted a vicious poetry

syllables rang true only on her tongue
her hand tightening
as I tore through the moment

tore with teeth and lips
nothing trembled so much as vibrated
a million heartbeats every minute
every stuttering breath
melting

her eyes black pools
dead vortexes now fixated on my skin
pin-points of stars caught up in a futile field
eyelashes dipping into unseen seas

between small bones and lovers
her teeth ensnared my name
whispered in high-toned bells over silent sheets
she tricked my language with feverish fingers
until I revealed the last point of expectation and exertion

in the halting movements of stellar bodies
in between her words in dead languages
with the linear sweat between one world and the next
a seam opened in the void

and with her hand still on my mouth
I slipped my fingers in
and touched the shining face
of an exquisitely vengeful god

Altered Ego

I just want you to know
I have found your secrets
and I have hardened myself against them

words fly out of your mouth
with a slickness
that once unnerved me

now I find your sputtering
with your self-importance
a distraction to my isolation

i still seek you out everyday
but with a limit to my emotions
that curls around my head like smoke

your eyes are cardboard circles
on your doll face
and your lips are always open

I have found your secrets
and know you with an intimacy
only discomfort can bring

I dream like a ghost
and only love the wrong ones