moreso

shame
ame
me
shhh...

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.

ebb-flow

zeb un sail away from disfiguring mindset breeze

un sunset away from dismembering prostrate angled legs

in ecstasy steam heat, waves hands, fingers stuck together
burned together, held together, move only faintly apart
waves
undulation, separate from autonomy

when once autonomy made light part itself out into different and far away corners

hand outstretched
hand clenched
hand outstretched
hand clenched
hand outstretched to touch receive
hand clenched, holding, and not enough room to breathe

the bird in one hand, a bush in another, suffocates in spindly dirt dreams

you fall asleep to escape

hand outstretched

broken waves
fingers spread

autonomy, now as a net

the liquid inside one's body sways

the root of balance

the sea inside a cavern

the waves that actually keep still

to separate from all this spinning
to see straight, as from behind closed fingers
a courage to see in between self-created lines
and peek out into a nightmare
that by looking
is clarified with sight

when you can stare at your hand all day, hold it in front of your face, be a child on the ocean
when you can use hands to gather, hold together, each one's autonomy

what dream it would be to wake up into
not the one i fear when the sunrises
not the one i flee from at the end of the day

am i removed? from this holding? just me?

maybe actually i am the creator

every time I decidedly parse my fingers
and let them lay out-let passages for my sight
to clarify the nightmarish waves of heat-obscuring-vision

and feel the undulation as a pointed arrow