well, im going to memphis

gary gray goose gary
fine leather he gave to me
laced it, made a purse for my lips to swallow

these fine small palms made to glitter
nails so oily, excrete oil
sold in bottles, pre-mixed martinis
with olives


they float near the top as buoys for my death


the head lies under
above water


i can't handle the meniscus
it curves whilst i see a line
six feet under,
it curves,
six feet above
i swear

the angle seems buried
but to me
well these lips aint aimed to please




anyhow





as soft as they might be








anyhow






diverted energy









anyhow









true love as rough as keying into
it hurts
they bleed
keyed cars do underneath


poor babies





i wonder as this formative coming into age true story embarks

how his grave might feeel

i mean the dirt

will it still be soft?

i don't remember kissing him ever
not how his lips felt
or his arms

but i remember the soft Tennessee grass
the ground that bounced

i hope some remnant pain is removed
when i see his face
etched in the soil
where once we both stood

and the locked gate
white

i was blind.





now i've forgotten.

this is true.


upon his grave i will kneel

maybe actually not at all, drive. ball.
my eyes out in a bathroom stall.

now.
that's my style.

to cry and hide.

in a bathroom stall, piss and all.
hide.
shy eyes
eylash eyes

cry cry cry my eyes out
see i'm b;lin d

cry cry cry

until im black & blue
under the new moon






and the only hope is
i'll be alone

it's only right

like a march you almost die with
alone



well. he never even believed in a soul.

but i am so determined.
i'll meet him yet. again.


dearest
aaron.