Monthly Archives: January 2013

the extrovert

I lean closer to observe the inflection of her wrist
the way her knuckles pale
Her eyes brighten
As she tightens her grip
I’m wrapped around her blade
We dance slowly like lovers

My guts divide into neat, little slices
She wipes the wetness from my eyes


All over

I won’t ask the sky for love anymore

She sends it wrapped in ticking explosives

And I hang on while the apocalypse counts down

Brace for impact,
But I never suffice

The sun sets to the spectacle of me scrubbing blast marks from my bones

All over me,
Wrapped in shrapnel skin


fifty three

In this dream

I die

Clutching at a bloodstained shirt
In a lonely corner of a parking garage.

The weeping wound in my gut
Smells of pink candy and rotting wheat

A man in a dog mask,
Peers out from the passenger window of a passing car.

He howls my name

I can taste the light