Friday, December 20, 2013

Nightmare Scenarios

With stressed shoulders
hunched like hackles on a cat,
I should just breathe deeply

I am fighting phantoms
that have no idea I exist
as they claim their nighttime prize

I despise these hooks
in my brain and bones curved
captured clavicles crunched tight

because of bunched nerves
acting burned just waiting
for the whip to drop

scorpions strike fast
especially when they know
where to hit

who wouldn't be pissed
if the first instinct here
was to shove myself in shit?

Monday, December 16, 2013

The Conquered

I, head on the chain
lies forgotten on Kali
i've learned much tonight

so invisible
wondering why she humors
when I am faded

I suppose it hurts
when you're a faceless echo,
a forgotten lark,

when you are nothing,
the nameless soldier bobs on
despite the worn leash

the courage to leave
despite the harsh digging twine
is hard when bodiless,

hanging afterthought,
left to gaze at strong Vishnu,
who's never despised

party to mad love,
mistaken for ambrosia
I am just mortal

a severed witness
that eavesdropped on hot glory
and burned for his trouble.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

The Settlers

I wonder if they realize
how insulting it is when
you know that even when
they are with you,
hugged by you,
under you,
comes the cruel clue
that they would push you
in two seconds
into rushing traffic to
be with who it is
they're really pining over,

watching them get more excited
about short throwaway texts
than your physical presence
presently scratching at
pulsing temples beating
in time to temperamental ventricles,
I am like a thin stencil
being stared through
and smiled wanly at
like fellow subway
passengers that sit too close

why am I the obligatory dose,
the eager ringer,
ego feeder,
mediocre-fuck-and-second-stringer
spending resources and spent force,
why am I the sterile stenographer
when y'all reading back the feels
for your stories in sexual escapade court
listening carefully edited reports
all the while cooing
"we really like you, of course!"

All I can hear anymore
is chortling and snorts
leaving me here to type
mad poison out of my pores
only to still come back
unexplainably begging to eat more
so when I eventually end up with
y'all again I won't melt under
such a incredulous and caustic source.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Flight

Halo of shadows
float in the December sky
rooftop masters call

beckoned back to home
wireframe wildlife refuge waits
exercise cut short

the next day will come
the masters will slowly
wave their makeshift flags

the feathered whirlwind
will make it's sure rotation
like cooing clockwork.

The Hook

Inside my prone lip
sits a curved hoof sharply
drawing me upward

she an old burnt spoon
is being cooked by me
is it any good?

after quick summer
she bubbles into my veins
soon gone by harsh March

is it wise to flop
at the bottom of the boat
of aloof fisherwomen?

Is this affection?
Or relentless sadism?
Is it her warm hands?

Or is it the sight
of bright blood bursting sudden
under her hooked knife?

Sunday, December 8, 2013

The Tulsa Tornado

I am somehow lucky tonight,
twisting through the williamsburg twilight
like a discarded cigarette
off of Roebling swept around
by the turmoil within,
but with upturned chin,
I opt not to hide and bury myself
in pervasive pain made plain
on a grim windswept face
placing myself at the Grand Victory
looking for some kind of win in the
cold December wind

Boy was it worth it not to go home
or I would have missed her power
claw it's way off the stage
into my rib cage in the way
that she shoots it
from boots to brain
she's a typhoon see,
singing through the roof
as hard as she can,
I look at her boyfriend thinking,
"damn what a lucky man"
to be able to just be near that
force, blowing ventricles off course
loving the fantasy of
if I got to fuck the source,
but this is the closest I can get,
listening to battle maiden vignettes,
if someone like her was mine,
I'd be set.

The Backup Plan

Someday, I hope my number
will be called for something else
beside greasy tragedy gumming
my works like tar,
far flung from being nice,
I wonder why the result is
the same lame maybes
and "I like you"s that fall
heavily on keen ears full well knowing
I'm bowing before the eunuch's blade

the man with no balls
can be trusted but he can't
be celebrated or respected,
nagging expectations pinned and braced
against the women's inevitable laughter
when this soldier grows bold
and tries to conquer,
knowing his window is open
only so slightly,
but why climb out when
one's fists end up clenched
tightly in the dark

Maybe this odyssey was meant
to be sailed alone since
validation only comes by luck
or if she's drunk
or if the day stunk
and I only got to be inside her
because it was convenient
it seems my destiny as a contingency
is steel coated and inevitable
remembered only on a bleeding vagina's
careful schedule

I can only hope to gain respect soon,
like a hidden island stumbled upon
like accidental treasure,
the pleasure lies quiet and elusive
someday hoping the hidden jewel
will hold equal measure with ethusiastically
charted but tarnished plunder
listed on her and all over their ledgers!

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

I Get It.


I get it,
I am your luteal phase liaison,
living the palate cleanser struggle 
ruffle of ginger on the table
of your life's banquet,
only to be nibbled briefly before
you're on to bigger fish to fry

I get it,
so go on,
be afraid of my affection
mistaken to be some
sort of long con
in the eyes of those long gone
on a journey I'm supposedly 
too meek to follow.

I get it,
carousel queens, 
I love you but
save your light late night
"I'm just his Fleshlight" calls 
for someone who cares after you 
let that "Let's Just be Friends"
arrow fly through the air.

I get it,
but I would rather burn bridges
than be a white knight guarding
the conquered flights 
of false idols on way too tall pedestals
I know I am a fool for having built
especially when the rain of guilt
fall like spears for years.

I get it,
being a sure-footed stepping stool 
to shoulder you in asexual stretches
in the daytime
yet I find myself still 
being a step-and-fetch-it 
bitch because those dudes who 
fuck that night don't get sucked 
into sinkholes studded
with tension that comes 
with the friendships 
that are handcuffed by 
poisonous expectation,
a sharp blade dragged across
tired brains intent to invent
the madness that comes 
with furious fairy tale speculation.


I get it
y'all don't owe me a thing
but you you must understand
that line between love and hate
is razor-thin and so adept
at cutting one out of his 
own yearning skin.



Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Crucifix Position

You are addicted 
to pressing knives into yourself
suffering, 
a romantic habit,
chaining yourself into iron maidens
you haven't even seen naked yet
and likely never will,
the thrill of bleeding
overrides the strength to just be
to reach for those on higher shelves
and a higher self instead of 
sitting here in this cutting tomb
of what-if scenarios,

When you are here,
in your smallest place
why do you choose pain?

To prevail upon being impaled
to watch the widening stains?

If you truly feel alive 
under the whip and the blade
use your intense inquisitions
to drip toward a worthy goal
in lieu of opaque foes
and a lust for low-hanging fruit,
turn your blades outward 
so what you want will want you.

Expertise

It would be easy 
to tell myself I am 
doing enough on page
every morning,
committing to a ritual scribbling
like a neophyte warrior
running through his katas
in a dojo

It is how you establish flow
which can be slow going when
one wants to be great,
to demonstrate vast inky powers
but to be a master
I must long surpass 10,000 hours.

Eleegia

A burden heavy
left a mother half-destroyed
she could only flee

crimes of a beloved
sent her spiraling madly
for Estonia

on this summer night
I console solid defeat
bringing a cleansed day.

Mit Einer Fackel

I look forward to seeing 
you in the morning
even though you often
tap dance between 
exhaustion and frustration,
I revel in being apart of 
your smiles if I can help it,
even if it isn't in the way I want,
I often wish I could kneel 
then, 
you melting in my mouth
and maybe on my hands
so you can stand against
the day a little taller

Despite it all,
you go to battle anyway,
you wonderful Munich valkyrie
I hate to see you leave but
I love to watch you go
in the light of my torch
held high and burning hot
but unfortunately the flames
burn for naught.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

The Hulks

Redbirds sitting rotten 
at the bottom of the seas
now left drowning 
by the seeds it used 
to oversee daily
through subterranean Gotham,
where has all that service gotten
them but a briny retirement,

Derelict mariner
decommissioned rat carrier
sunken ferry turned fish kingdom,
their memories may be short
but their bubbling gratitude outstrips ours
darting flowers happy to have 
a strange rusting home. 

Columbus Encircled

Deep in the trenches
of another nine-to-five firefight,
I watched queued faces alight
with eager wonder
to ascend the crisscrossed
steel tower hastily constructed
looming large behind me,
at the belly button of the city
where spiraling street winds
push me to hop from foot to foot
this clumsy dance a not-so-secret war
with my cold November-bitten boots
stamping like cloven hooves
as I try to soothe the nerves
of the buzzing line as their
excitement turns to
impatience turns to
bribery turns to
bitchiness turns to
my quizzical face at the front
of an ugly scaffold

This situation a war of attrition
their printed e-tickets squeezed in
hot hands,
the fog of their anxiety steaming up
toward the man of the hour
they glower at me to see,
it makes one question and shiver,
why freeze in the cold
to pay respects to the statue
of a killer?

Friday, June 7, 2013

Assuage

When will people learn
lying through your teeth quickly
doesn't save your face.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Third Wheel of Torture

I watch warily tonight 
shark tank scenario
swirling with drunken current,
there's blood in the water
we all here at the party
can taste it,
so what am I faced with
predator nails clawing 
at the trap door in the pit
of my stomach scrabbling
to possess, press, impress
upon bouncing flesh 
for a few fleeting nights

Suddenly the thirst shifts
sizzling when another shark
swims close to the target
quickly a personal bargain is struck
swaying between the need for a quick fuck
and saving face in the pale light
of more aggressive opponents,
honor is my cross and I bear it heavily,
better to have laughed amid smoke
obey guy code and just let it be
preferring to skip sudden vendettas
against the next man 
you just bummed a cigarette from
with whom you honestly liked
through giggling coughs
better to go home, beat dick and
sidestep impromptu vaginal mexican standoffs.

Friday, April 5, 2013

Dreams (1)

Constant invader
I am tired of your games
most are imagined,

Last week I learned when
walking in the waking world
I have to duck you,

Unfeeling temptress
you don't deserve to be here
stay out of my dreams.

The Flayed Man

On quiet spring nights
I peel with sharp ornate knives
to find light within

On groggy mornings
I salt deep with caustic salves 
see the fire dimmed.

Shutterbugged


A photographer
is taking pictures of my neighbor

I can hear his excitement
yeses pushed through gritted teeth

the very sounds the word ejaculate
was invented for

his oral encouragement
enraptured and fervent

snorting laughter's where my mind
and mouth went

when I was spent,
I felt shame

he enjoyed his work 
and stated it plain

envious of his passion
his funny tongue lashings

made him more of an artist
than a brooding poet

playing free-to-play flash games
lying lazily all the same.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

The Alibi



Why do maybe girls

tell false stories at nighttime

you're not saving face


Or are our egos

so brittle to you always

that we deserve it?