A request

Body don't fail me, please

what more can i say

want to scream

please, for me

please, for me

strange type of

narcissus

i need you or

i lose me

Still; or something like it

Sometimes I can't believe:

My heart is still beating

My lungs are still breathing

My neck; it still stands

Sometimes I can't believe:

My cheeks are still gleaming

My gums are still bleeding

My hair; it still grows

Sometimes I can't believe:

My tongue is still tasting

My skin is still baking

My mouth; it still speaks

Sometimes I can't believe:

My eyes are still seeing

My ears are still hearing

My brain; it still wakes.

Sometimes I think:

When it stops you will read.

When it stops you will listen.

When it stops you will wonder

How I knew.

Here

How can I live Here
Here where fear itself

can

Kill you
Censored living

and

new disease

spurting out through
Talking screens
And I'm too afraid to
Know either way
So I just go on
Believing
Waiting to be told
It's too late

i am always the last one up.

What Are

What are

everything and the Holy

Apple green or those fruits that

Look like limes with brilliant orange insides

What are

The thrill of the files long lost

And how little it hurts

These days

What is that

way they react

Like I just lost my mother

Or my lover

My Father, my Brother

or My Cat

I lose things often and

My hat hurt more than the

Sugar for my eyes

I still wonder though

(where do they GO?)

The only sound coming out

After long lost

Is one I've never given a listen

I like that too

The minor stab of

The man's bowl of fire

He wouldn't, though

What are

The push and the pull and the waking

Of the wheezing

The thought that I may not live another

The decision to have another

What in her

Make her fear it so little

Maybe I am too literal but

I'll miss them and It and the gift

I've been given and

The nerves and the fright

And the him and the us

(my cat)

And myself

I'll miss that too

dream born

born into a capsule of red liquid and slime

how did i get there, to that seemingly bottomless chasm

(i mean, i know how i got there. but how did i get there?)

of the deepest depths of the one who waited and

wanted

me

they all wanted

me

i was unexpected, to some degree

at least my lashes, and my swollen lips

and of course the lacking

between my little legs

when i came out i'd never looked more like my

great great greats

quiet little (big) ball of brown

soon faded when the yellow hair sprouted
(two years later)

and my skin turned pink

and never looked back

i've always felt i could reach out and touch my childhood

i wonder if anyone else feels that way

its never really left me, how much of it i'd want to
(not much)

from the crawling into the kitchen

across the ceramic blue tiles

to the green carpet in that old grey house

to the laying in the crib in the room with the american flag ceiling

she swears that never happened (we were never in that room)

but i'll never forget his face

peering over me as i cried

too young to speak

too young to stand

he had long hair

and i always feared those wearing it

the orange berries on the tree outside

she said the more there were the harsher

the cold would be

that year

that stayed with me too but i think what it really meant

was the summer was lavish

rich with warmth and water

the push of that stroller and

the red snowsuit with the cone hood

the sled and the calling of my brother

child talks sticking nick names

forever tattooed in our minds

the skunk in the backpack

and the strawberries at the fair

the lifeguards and the rings at the playground

that i fell off of

(I've still yet to try those again)

the lake with the dock

stories of her saving one

long legs slender with tanned skin and her hair

she tried so hard to make straight

those shorts, red and orange pinstripe

with the white blouse i begged my mother to find for me

though i never had a body like hers

living without consciousness

my being was what they saw

touched

held

bathed

burped

changed

wiped

fed

cried with

little being attached

at the breast

everyone is an accessory

for the first little bit

of time

me though, i remember

you can't tell me a story i couldn't recollect

sitting in the grey leather, skin out of shorts sticking in the heat

heart shaped imprint from the moist seeping from my pores

school trip to the dump

(yes, the dump)

woman walks alone along the sidewalk. she looks at me, i look at her

i thought about when i'd be there, looking at the child on the yellow bus

remembering

while i looked at her, the woman on the sidewalk,

waiting

for choice

i remember that thought,

conscious thought

knowing it would stay with me

and it has

for the most part

she remembers me with long hair

long hair big eyes

cartoon rabbit's

(he says, meant to take lovingly)

most of my life most locks were chopped

little boy looks with the

little boy

name

i cared so little

and it was all for the sport

natural stunner

natural sinner

natural hatred of oneself

days come and they go and i am capable

of feeling the beauty i've longed for

but mostly i am that bald round brown

taken out with a scalpel

below the button

i see it sometimes

picture my arm and my cry

rolled legs and skin supple with

the red liquid and slime

those lashes and swollen lips

and of course

the lacking between my little legs

and

i wonder if i'd turn out any different

had i passed through her thighs

like i was supposed to

six feet under is still my favourite show

"If in the beginning, you hate it, that means its good....because you don't recognize the beauty of your own truth. You're used to being this lonely, pathetic human who does only what other people want. But what the other people really want is to fuck you, and to make money off of you and to hang you in their living room with a fancy security system.

Your liver and your bowels are more important as an artist because they are so far away from your brain."

5:05 PM

C T

No one pushes quite like they pull

No one tries but it's there

No one tries to see in me

I don't see either though maybe I should

Because I see them

I see them young and I see them old

But only the ones I know I will see

When I too am old and

Envying the young

And Remembering how I could

Cry at the sight of one like me

Wrinkled and flapped

Crowsfeet

Lines of laughs

Proof of life

(I need to hear his voice more often

than not

Soon

Before I forget it

i don't have much time

i will call tomorrow!

everyday.

His lines don't feel so joyous

And my empathy hurts me on

Most days)

All I can do is

Purge words

Even I don't know the meaning to

and

Laugh at jokes

I don't understand

Anyway

i wish they would

See me as more than

Half of one

Not to be desired

Not to be loved or...

Yes to be loved.
is that so bad?

I want to be loved

I am supposed to feel

An innate beauty

Full grown adult like peace

I was more adult when I was ten

Even my elders could attest

My handwriting was beautiful

And now

The black threads are cutting into my thigh

The same black threads he drooled over the first night he saw them

The same black threads he laughs at five years later

Tattered and torn;

They are wearing me more than I wear them

Now

Much like this feeling

Owning me

Long gone long forgotten and

Hey.

I'm still here.

That's me making you bleed.

Are you ready

to part with me

yet?

Reminding me

he once liked them

I guess thats why

I've never thrown them out

and if i so (choose) to leave

prematurely

will he wish he had them

to smell

on occasion?

8:56 AM

S +G

Another dream birth
Another push through
The thighs
Another sweet sigh of relief
Another instance of undeniable
Shock
At just how little it hurt
Far less amazement at
Being a mother
Far more enthralled by
Just doing it
Part of the club

if these dreams are reality

then i have at least

fifteen to call me mom

and some of them

are probably adults

by now

I think I will always have these dreams
Until i am proven it could happen
Out of reverie
He is special and
Everyone knows except him
(and her it would seem)
Sweet talks of lady
Sweet words of admiration for an outlet
He hopes she will reciprocate
(she won't)
I have been her before and
Its not an easy place
But being where he is
Is much harder
Sweet bees
Stinging bees
Outstretched over me
To free its poor confused little being
Guide it to the ledge
He knows I don't do so well
With things that could potentially cause harm
I could smell him
His arms and his hair
Day old shirts smelling of
Sweat
And
Lake water
I was grateful
I am grateful
To know another being
So sweet

9:50 PM

VM

And yet now the only living boy in new York
Could quite possibly be some of the most beautiful vibration
My ear has heard
I have got nothing to do today but smile
They said
And when we stumbled upon the strawberries
And the latches of safety
Today
With greased chins
Kernels of equal rows
(honestly it is true. Check.)
We knew we needed to jump in
Shine shine shine
Smile
We did
Beer in styrofoam
Spinning berries in an
Otherwise static
Joyride
'stop! Stop!'
'please stop spinning!'

'the ride hasn't started yet!'
I love not knowing you
But feeling like I have
Thirty dollars well spent wasted
Well-turned in our guts
Sweet moments of silence
Sweet suck of air through our strands
Sore cheeks
Faces of five years
Spontaneity
Serendipity
Old (old? Already?)
Friends
With
New loves
Stop-by's
Segregation can be
Annoying but at least we have some
To be segregated from
When I received his words of
His own well mannered
Concern for one he could give
Or take
I knew
(or knew before really)
He is a good one
And she should
Be so lucky
Close hearts
Closer
No words needed to mend
Time
I'm grateful for those people
I just don't have time
For the rest

5:47 PM

A+J

Thoughts be circled and only occasionally viewed
Like those lights we were supposed to see
Yesterday and the day before

(and like the forgotten words
I didn't try and look up
To see if they were even there

at all)

they were

And words only work sometimes
Like the overwhelming heat
That bounds you in summer months
An the way it can feel cold

if only for a moment
The winter cool warmed by
Small sporadic
Convulsions
Unsure if that feeling is all
Body or
All mind

but it is at least

survival

i find myself often wondering

if burning would feel like

freezing

even for a second

like that smoky

liquid nitrogen and its

glacial burn

i am glad my flesh knows how it feels to be blistered

by that scorching cold

And how I can feel so strongly
For some people
So in love
So wanting to embrace and
I do
I find my way
Most of the time and
It only hurts when I think about
What I am missing
Like the way Antony used to rip
Out my insides
Painful embrace of
Mourning with each
Single vibrato
Each string
Plucked
Now
I am finding it reminds me of
The painful uncertainty
I had and the longing of newness
I had missed

and hearing it is nearly

bearable

its almost

even enjoyable
Hurts pleasantly
This time

regrown limbs

(uncrippled)

like a starfish

'And hold on
Hold on
Let go
Let go
Let the virus live alive
And fall deeper
Even than love'

and even just now

i am reminded of the coming and going

of such things

and how they are so alike

every moment in my time

like just now

how i look up once

only to find i am five blocks further

than where i'd intended

on going

c.

i thought today

what is today? two years since

this

no

a year since

that

no

glanced at the newspaper over my shoulder

looking for clues

only to find that

the president likes to use the occasional diet cleanse

and that

an off duty officer

shot a playing dog

for some reason

unknown

this week was also the same week i felt the need

to read

and tremble

and shiver

and grow

bumps

for the first time

(in awhile)

i felt it

i felt her

and she felt me

or maybe i was right in thinking she feels nothing

but my absence

i would be ok with that

i know when i am lacking

and i have been lacking

with her

for sometime

and the truth is

or at least could be

that i have been so jaded by new beginnings

excited by unusual opportunities

and she is so good at detaching herself

(i think even she would be jealous)

isolation and loosened ties of the things

she only wishes she could

leave behind

i just can't

keep up

sometimes

but i am always reading

always feeling

and then

i remembered

or rather, she reminded me

in passing

(thank you)

and here i am again

on this island

with her

and her (i need to see you very soon)

and her

and him

(and him.

of course him.

that is the reason we were all there

after all)

with her tears and her tan

and her tears for her

and his sounds

and her sounds

(pining for his)

and the lake

and the line of those attached

the ship in the fog

and those leaves

and their one entity

bound together like the hands

saying

here i am!

and how i felt

in the sand dancing and the freedom

and how she must have felt

because i felt

no sense of time

and there was

some eternal greatness that i hope

i get to feel again

someday

among grass and green

and blue

i knew i'd always remember that day

and i do

think of it often

so many half finished

objects of admiration

meant from the best place

that i have

i have so many apologies

but she understands

she gets me in a way

i don't get myself

i am not sure if she even realizes this

i hope the years get easier

softer

milder

growing in celebration

like how i am sure that tree looks now

still crooked and bent

but fuller with

life

and

colour

and

strength

happy birthday, c.

(i look to you for the strength that is

occasionally

lost)

9:09 AM

C H I L D R E N

I want to love what was lost

I want to keep going

It was always uncomfortable to listen to

The pining was always there

Hearing his beat always kept me in that place I need

Seeing him there made my toes curl and the lump in my throat grow

with each hit

Most say that but not in the way that you think

I have been wanting to be there with him for as long as I have known him

And then I was and it was exactly how id imagined it

And when he spoke it was better than I could have possibly

Imagined

it

And I wanted to be there

All the time

When I was not

And outside of that place and all the exchanges in between

Damaged the flourish of what was growing

We couldn't convince ourselves of its beauty

I am getting back there slowly

Because we were there and we saw

The freedom

He didn't but

He wished he was

in close proximity so that he

could

And I will never leave you behind

Mark my words here

I will never leave you behind

You would never leave me behind

and here we are again

back to reality

back to basics

back to love without word and hearty throat fondness mind fuck

back to cursing without apology

back to plugging in with the buzz

without hysteria

with analytics

without

pedestals

i like to go back and forth

i dont often give unless i want

to

get

and i'm sorry

for that

and i'm sorry

there isn't room for us both

you say

and i'm sorry

that i like it here

and that

i wouldn't want to leave

even if i could

and its never felt so good

Grassy homes and windows of mesh
No socks on the door but zippers were zipped
And he sat alone out there for a while
And I laid inside with the others
Belligerent still from the night before
Smelling of breath and grass
And air and sound
Oh the sound
Sitting in that trailer dimmed by vibration
And the way she looked as she watched me listen
She watched the sound move around me
While I felt it brush my hair
And kiss my lashes
While it entered my body and spoke to me everything it had
Truth
I wanted to close my eyes
But I wanted to watch her more
I laughed so much
Laughed til my ribs bruised
Laughed out a sound
I hadn't heard in years
Cheeks streaked with tears
She is always listening
I thought of her while I was there
Thought how she'd enjoy this kind
Of thing
(Though I'm sure she is sick
Of living outside)
But the drums lit up
And the moths circled above
It was too cold apparently
But I thought it was beautiful anyway
And when they landed and buzzed
I wished I wasn't so drunk
I slept soundly that night
After confessions and (truth?)
I hope
I feel lucky to know some people
Sad that others don't
I wish we could always be that free
And when we laid together that night
He strummed quietly
Strummed him to sleep
And he didn't even notice me
Blowing into the harmonica beside him