Looking out the Window of my 3rd floor Room

5:15 PM

Spindly branches stretch beyond the lacquer

Spider webs trapped like ghosts by the Sun’s dying rays

Branches eschewed of color – but behind that tinted window,

They seem so alive

Ce que j’ai vu

Orange lamps burning in the distance call to mind

Memories of Victorian London in the town square where I

Then a women was slaughtered by you then a man

With red lilies splashed like paint drops across the muddied alleys

A sickly sweet thing to pass into your warm embrace whilst the cold mud slowly seeped

Into my veins shining greater truths that now dance along

The fringes of my mind I don’t want to seem ungrateful

But perhaps you could’ve let me go that day just watched

And let me go                       

Old Habits

I hear breezes in the distance,

The soft call of a dying God’s voice

Just beneath the mossy timber,

Lies the snake, coiled and grotesque

The cat crouches, seeing with eyes far older,

Than it’s skin

“Shiver me timbers”

Sings the boy in my dreams

As he throws a stone

Into the last

Window

Sick

I’m sick of sitting at bus stops waiting for my train to arrive

I know trains don’t visit bus stops but that doesn’t stop me from wanting

The train to come

And I know you never gave these things much thought because you never had much time

For anyone but yourself

And I know this because I am the same way

Because I too want to crawl under the bed sheets and sleep all day

My cheek pressed against the voice of a girl I don’t know anymore

And I want to have friends but I don’t want them near me

Because I don’t want to get close because that’s an assumption

And assumptions make something out of nothing

And I’m not ready to talk about procreation

Because I’m barely nineteen years old and I just found out I have a dick

I don’t know what this is for and I don’t want to know

I want to go outside and play a game of baseball

Not even a game I just want to throw rocks

At the people who walk by,

And scream, and cry, and giggle

Because they scatter like ants under a magnifying glass

And I find a certain comfort in knowing that we are nothing

But insects

Victim

I have nothing left to say

Bad men took the words away

They came and left a place to hurt

Served screaming soup

For dessert

Nothing ever comes to misters

P.O. Box address for packaged blisters

A place where I can put to rest

My fissures, geysers,

Pedantic lovers

Moat surrounded heart,

A place where you can start,

A place where you can rest,

Where you can draw breath,

In.

Just let something in.

A rule is all you need

When you realize

That every bed time story

Is a lie.

A rule, a God.

A blade of grass to hold onto singing,

“This is mine”.

Baggy pants that scrape the floor,

Lost to use, to disuse.

Melodramatic teenagers jump off the sides of buildings,

Leaking out.

Hold onto my blood for Jesus gave it to me.

Filled my drunk body up with wine and gave it life,

With a snap,

Of his twenty three fingers.

Lost moat-heart,

Leaking out onto the floor,

Christ’s red-wine,

Screaming of our divine

Design

Crowd Surfing

I always see my own breath

Before I jump

The pearl-skinned Scandinavian Princes

Beat there drums in communion

With my feet

It isn’t like falling at all

Or submission

It is flight             

Because their hands are like God

And if I don’t jump,

I’m already dead