Wasn’t his white oxford
That made me squirm
Following him, reading him
I sensed something honest

Honest and hungry, as if he
Hadn’t eaten in ages. I
Wanted to feed him love
And purple grapes

Let him eat off me
Let him eat from me
Something to satisfy
Let him touch me

Let me touch him

He knows me; we feed
off of each other. Satiate
one another, until
we need it again.

There are weeks that go
by, where we are satisfied
with another, like bottom

feeders, we come back. One day we’ll be satisfied.
Not need each other in that
way. At least we don’t think so,
but you never know.

I’m not putting any money on it.
Nor is he.

In the morning
When I was defiled
Five screams a minute
Five shiny points from
The glass shards

Five fingers, to check off
As I calculate
In five minutes I'm clean
and new
Separated by five degrees

Five from what I don't want
To remember, anything green
Black or brown
Make it easier
Five letters/numbers are my friends

The ceiling fan;
Wood, glass, white, brown, brass
Another set of quints
A quick escape
When I should need one

My rabbit hole wiith
Back-doors aplenty
Five senses all shut down
I've got good and can count
Before what might happen

Safe in numbers, hidden
When I seperate from myself.

She had got too happy. (Scary)
Life was all that she had hoped for.
Possibility was found in
an empty stocking. Hope
was everywhere, the horizon
constantly changing to
reveal more beauty than
she’d dreamt of.

Her partner was committed
to their common good, not
his. Theirs. The house of cards
was sure to tumble down
maybe if she just gave it
a gentle blow, they’d fall
down. Try a swift kick if
that doesn’t work, come on
now, tear it down!
You are too damn calm!

Alone. A curious word
she wrecked her world and
abandoned love, for what?
Money, insurance, nice house
fast cars, clothes and
society parties? No, she
threw it away for a peace
that will never come...
Never come.

A through Z, all different
for one excuse or two.
Tammy L. is now Tammy S.
Genie G. is dead. Buddy L.
has moved west someplace.
Friends and family, clearly
rearranged.

I have a different place
in their books now.
Marriage, divorce and incognito.
A different state of mind.
Reading, writing and wringing
of the hands. Diverse and
drained.

Our attitudes and life-styles
don’t engage anymore.
Though they’ll always have a place,
in this ‘where are they now’ movie.
Flicking through my life’s script,
like a fast film spinning on
steel spools in still
frames.

There is a possessed
Pick in the corner of
The magic medicine cabinet:
Arctic, no muse allowed
Mood stabilizers are
Beckoning. But then…

There’s the hard and chalky
Candies, that make my
Head go around and ‘round.
Can’t touch them, mustn’t
Swallow. Doc says that I have
To learn to cope, pay attention
When I feel a change.

I can’t say a frigging word.
Nothing from my gut
Is this improvement?
I’m not sure how to
Live ordinary.

I feel like a foreigner, deserted
To this icy region; not knowing the
Language or customs, of the living.
I want to find my way back.
Mustn’t think of it tomorrow.
That’s my usual game.
I wonder what normal is,
Surely it’s blasé.

Trying to count
1-2-3-4-…
Like brittle bones
My fingers break off. I notice
My hands are as blue as
The state flower in spring
Which are dead
In this winter blast.
Watch me fall apart.