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Damage (Love Is Madness)

Love is not about learning how to dance in the rain,
or how to dance at all.
Static warfares and lost melodies, fading memories
of what used to be,
circling the vortex and nothing will ever be the same
once the beast owns your heart.
Liberation will be an illusion that sets you free for an hour,
but once your eyes open you are
enslaved by the emotion in physical form,
wishing you were dead rather than face the torture once more.
It’s like we’re tied down by a sadistic psychopath,
barbed wires wrapped tight around our arms,
eyes forced open, as we flinch at the scene on the screen.
A thousand nails piercing your skin, 
the equivalence of watching the one you love
love somebody else,
so fuck the people that say that romance is dead,
it’s alive and it thrives on broken hearts and drunken souls,
it manifests itself as happiness when in reality,
it is death’s distant cousin,
cupid’s nemesis in flesh,
nightmares and lies synthesized into a single word.
Love is not about dancing in the rain,
it’s learning how to endure the flames that engulf you
and as long as they smile, though it breaks your soul asunder,
you feign happiness and you wish them luck,
because in the end
that’s all you really ever want.

”Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs…
What is it else? A madness most discreet.”

Think Fast

Give yourself

Some space

Think a bit longer

Don’t just blurt out whatever

Comes to your head first

Too late
Much too late
Check and mate

Herpetology

Behold the one
who climbs stolen ladder-fortresses
and calls his body tall.
He must think we can not divine
what he is building
with gathered
junkyard jetsam.
I see you, snake-lizard.
I know your name.

Chengdu Subway, March 13th, 2013

  Hollow cheeks wears a blue hat and a large blue coat. His black teeth smile at the crying baby beside him on the subway.

  His friends, equally gray of face, sit across the aisle. They speak in animated voices that quietly approach silence.

eight thirty

I have seen 
entire islands collapse
under the weight of
thin strings of moonlight
that somehow separate the 
evening from the night.

selfish

I kissed him
only to
remember

    the sensation 
    of your lips 
    on mine.

It was nothing
to the original
organic
you and I
the backseat of your mother’s car.

Selfish
I know
but I want you
a third time.

Seducing Seymour

Tonight a venus fly trap
Will speak to someone
About life and death

Intrigued you will
Listen all night

Then at the break
Of dawn

It will say
It has a secret
To tell you

You will nudge closer
And it will eat you
You will be plant food
Before the sunrise

Operation

Sadness is a surgeon,

deftly cutting out your tongue.

Vocal chords are not a vital organ.

Feelings are like your appendix,

harmless until they’re inflamed.

But, it’s a simple operation:

It’s just a few little cuts in your lower abdomen;

then the scalpel just keeps moving up,

until it slices open your chest,

(the retractors keep your ribs and sternum from interfering), 

so they can pull out the useless bit of traitorous flesh;

it’s been causing you so much pain.

My Love Had Been A Gun (Gun Poem)

I made the whole McMansion quake!

I made it and its people quake

with my glorious tumescent belly!

.

People said: “Calm down.”

So I busted all the lights

laughed for forty-five minutes

in defiance!

Prostrated myself on the kitchen floor

told everyone

they can’t feel as much as me

anymore!

.

That night I felt so much!

Felt love for everyone in the room!

.

My love was a gun mowing down

all the nubile boys and girls

who only ever wanted to party, you know

when some LOUD and RIGHTEOUS

voice told me to remove my clothes

for love of AMERICA

and I was happy to oblige

I ran the mansion back and forth

my wang a grandfather clock

I told everyone it kept divine time.

.

I screamed:

BABIES—

YOU ARE ALL MY BASTILLE

LET ME PRY YOU OPEN

ALSO

WHERE IS THE SWIMMING POOL?!

Request #7: Petrol Skies

Oil dripping from the sky!

But of course, deary,

you know I’ve never owned a carriage 

that had more perfections than flaws.

Let’s ride the clouds, shall we?

roll those windows down,

we’ll show those uppity birds and flies!

This big block sucks on air that houses

hardly any oxygen at all.

But do you care?  …I don’t, darling!

Cause I’ve got your eyes,

those hands of yours around my neck as we ride,

just beneath the stars!

This flying car,

my wild dream!  

Pop another lucky strike between my lips will you,

let the tail lights seduce the earthly dwellers below

as I appreciate this buzz.

They’ll never know,

oh they’ll never know this fun,

this secrecy,

this top-down-high-reved-stroll

we ride into the heavens.

I love you, sweetheart,

but don’t you dare scratch the paint.

just keep your gaze fixed on that 

golden sun,

retiring on the horizon.

     Look at the mirror|rorrim eht ta kooL

To recognize the body|ydob eht ezingocer oT

   Your soul is wearing|gniraew si luos ruoY

There is ivy

in lungs, growing
up, wrapping around
knotting with nerves,
veins reaching
for the rest of me.

pulling me apart.

inside I am old
ancient, crumbling
building with shattered
stained glass windows
bursting panes, bats
in my eaves, dust clinging
to surfaces stirred
with breezes rattling
around my bones.

beautiful.

There is a veil before the streets stir

An old man rides his bike to the lake

fishing poles in tow

there is sunlight

he waves off fumes from a truck polluting his silence

he is almost there

it is quiet in the city

and no one has fallen yet

Caprice.

Are you worried that I’ll say 
too much? Well I’ve got nothing
on my mind, if you won’t
let me unwind, I’ll have no
choice but to mix your
truth, with a bloodied hand
clasped in mine, and fortunes
they always seem to come
for richer men, the rest of us are
left to swing, and sway in the
wind, necks strung up by the gallows
of our own minds. Turn it over, tell
me a story, tell me something new,
tell me anything, to keep me
from crying, to keep me from thinking
of you. I’ve got shaky hands, crushed
in knuckes and achey knees. I can’t
move on, it’s easier to stay in one place,
its easier to think that I’ll always be
the same. I’ve got no key, I’ve only got
dented in dreams, and a back that
isn’t so good to me, but have you seen
the way my heart bleeds? Gushing
all over the streets, I wake up day after
damned day, I’m in too deep, losing
sleep. I’ll see you again, just as soon as
I figure out when. For now, I’ve got
this image of the last time I saw you, 
it’s forever imprinted inside of my 
eyes, my friends say I’m crazy, but when 
I think back, all I see is red roses and
a girl that never imposes. The sunshine
baking the tattoo across your shoulder
blades, it’s better than razor blades, your
wrists can attest to that dear. We waited
for days that were never coming, you
were in love with me, I was in love with
the way you loved me. That’s arrogance,
but to me is the best that I could give,
these words are handwritten, you’ve got
to know I’m nothing less than smitten.
When I sleep, my dear all I see is you, all I 
see  is….you. Tell the angels in heaven
not to sleep to dream, tell the sinners burning 
in hell….tell them not to wait up for me.  

because it'd never make it to the mailbox

I’ve been sober much
of the week because
I’ve been painting the
walls
of my place
don’t ask me what one
has to do with the
other
but I guess they
do

I walk across to the
street to the
store
buy apples
and steak

lift a hand
to those
I kind of know

smile convincingly

bring my small part
of the world
into theirs

theirs to mine

there’s a church down the
block
but I don’t go
I don’t have anything against it
like you think I do
no
I just
take sunday morning
the way
it comes

look at the birds
that are smart
enough to make it

and I don’t think
you’ve had the same hangovers
I’ve had
or
the
wild days
nights
years
like you let on

they 
would have come out
when your guard was down

and I don’ t believe you
about your
tattoos or
your lovers

I’m not new
here
and
I know
some of the 
tricks

I know
how to 
fake my way
through a slow dance

or at least
hold onto
someone
as they
cry in a bus station

CI.

Wanted a friend,
someone to talk to,
ended up,
with a passive listener,
of a lover,
lonelier than I can remember.

every day i race pavement to empty,
crunch concrete under feet,
gravelous cornflakes.
i eat grit for breakfast,
helps digest things i can’t stand
to chew

a big swallow

and what comes out
is none of your business
unless i share it publicly

in a book
written for science -
impersonal and polysyllabic jargon
disguises personality, 
i am a face of letters.

if you let me
i’ll beat knowledge in the face -
i like fighting for education.
we’re in the third round,
but i think i’ve lost count.
sometimes i pretend i’m winning.

if they say
it’s not a competition,
they’re probably lying.

Air 
 
Helium balloons for translucent children 
Ferris wheels turning back in time 
showing up at home, quickly they left 
with funeral noises 
how many horrors are counted in holidays?
 
One of the twelve found Pantheons 
was composed entirely of rats 
divine, sacred rats, 
their febrile narratives. 
 
One window to the center of the earth 
walls of doors, difficult hikes 
and the concrete, lost, swallowing 
the air, hardly, breathing 
the hard 
skin 
of nearly everyone. 
 
all of this 
I’ve seen well 
from plastic castles, 
hilarious, 
nameless.

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