Not that long ago
I woke up furious
at the blue light blinking
I wasn’t pissed that the txt
was from my sister—but that
you thought you could get to me
through her—I didn’t even read it
immediately after reading your name
that I buried in my past where it belongs—
The only thing I could remember
other than those cold dead eyes
that I wish I would have seen sooner
Was when you took me on a bus ride
I can’t remember if you lied about job hunting
or this was part of your reinactment
on how to make love stay—
you knew it like you’d done it a thousand times
the same route that would be flooded
with a bunch of schoolboys
in uniform all looking almost incestually identical
& you turned to me and said emotionless
that it was your fantasy
I once had a friend
who was a paedophile It’s just a phase I swear
Someone found his stash
at a gaming party
when he passed out first
we all saw what he thought was hidden
We didnt even know how to react—
so we made fun of him and called him a CPA ’til he figured it out—
He used to wish me a happy birthday on 11/11,
was the last of my old friends that did so
But when I’d get drunk—I’d get loud—I’d
get crazy, unpredictable and insane—
and he would shush me to be quiet
like he was still afraid
after all that time
I’d write this poem out loud
for everyone to hear
the faceless shadow
that stands beside me
in a dim dream
of some bazaar
looking down at this
with a ship
on my wrist
thinking I will not purchase this-
then it begins
A loud electric surge
pulls me undertow
a speechless soaring
tearing me down;
I will not go
to this life
we fell into
is the anchor
that sinks me
to the bottom
of the deep dark sea
By the time I was five years old
I thought I already knew what it was like to die.
You could say this was my earliest memory
as a singular being.
Falling through the cracks of the room
and into an endless and polished white space.
There was something I had to do.
Something I could not do.
An impossible task.
Death was coming because I was unable to do this
in that small window of time.
There was nothing I could do but wait.
I was afraid.
It was my time.
Then the chilling and paralyzing fear
and blanketed me with the deepest sense
like falling into
the most relaxing
slumber of my life,
and letting go.
And it was there I found
my earliest memory.
I was inside of the womb
dreaming, looking outside.
My soul is screaming
burning in the flames
of a fire of eyes
sifted through a net
thrown from a vaulted dome
and sleeping almost peacefully
but numbing extremities
just for a bit
until the morning washes liquid
magma superconductor alien hissing
drones slicing insectoid-
and closing off but
driven by a fuse
inching toward ignition.
Swallowing atomic bombs
from the sun
of the bottom of the heart.
Melting into leaked streets of death-
the dangerous apathetic erosion
of attachments rooting prosperity
fruiting emotions falling down and fermenting
on warm concrete and dribbles of piss
picked up by the pants.
Looking away from the swarm
of walking mirrors
made out of some kind of plastic
as not to amplify
the already volcanic
eruption of balance
flowing up from the