the flight in drunken darkness
It’s only in the intoxicated darkness that I yearn. To yearn is that pang of longing which grips you so tight you think you might keel over.
As my throat burns with the remnants of one too many tequila limes, the bed beneath me soft, the air I breathe still hot, my head spinning— all this and more happens in the real, tangible world—I close my eyes and sink into a darkness which starts from within.
In this darkness, the one I never have to face myself in, I am free, to dream, to cherish. Stars paint themselves around me, my body yearns for a soul. Memories become dreams become fact. I’m standing beneath the trees with you, your face inches from mine, the tender face I want to caress and make blush.
Intoxicated darkness, what sweet freedom you bring, my heart’s at peace and it soars, giddy with delight at remembered love. In this darkness, I don’t remember the dismissal, the hurt, the cruelty, the present tense. There are no flashlights to remind me of dignity and self-respect, no one to shed light on my lover’s loveless gaze, who, in the obscurity, is not clear enough to take another hammer to my heart.
Intoxicated darkness, how gentle you are to me, you bathe me in your soprano musings, teach me to forget daily grinds and drowning worlds. Darkness, how cool, how innocent in ignorance. Don’t let the future come, let it roll on but leave me here. I want to stay in this part of summer, fall in love with the hot blind nights.
Intoxicated darkness leaves me to the heavy headed morning light. It lets me sit among those breezes which spell out harsh fluorescent realities.
Coffee, to numb out the possibility of sleep, I face the day, and wait, again, for a late evening when I can deliver myself to dark, drunken flight.
In the end, she had more...
Old mother hubbard
Went to the cupboard
to get a soup bone
Femur, Tibia, Humerus?
In the end, there was
none
She turned on her heel
and went by wheel
and knocked on a door
"Hello Good Neighbor!
Don't mind me..."
And the neighbor hit the floor
Old mother Hubbard
went to the basement
where the tools await her
And then the bones
for the soups and stews
she had more...
Hickory Dickory
Hickory dickory dock
The man looked at the clock
“When the clock strikes 12”
He thought to himself
“I will murder my wife with a rock.”
Hickory dickory deep
His wife was fast asleep
The man watched the clock
And grabbed for the rock
This secret forever he’ll keep.
Hickory dickory deeper.
His wife had been a cheater.
She really should’ve known
When she left him alone
That no one else could keep her.
Hickory dickory closer.
The deadline is almost over.
As the minute passed nine,
The man felt just fine
And thought of the ways he could pose her.
.......
Hickory dickory “Please!”
The mailman screamed for the police.
The woman was dead
With a rock in her head.
The mailman fell down on his knees.
Hickory dickory miser.
He almost didn’t recognize her.
His lover was there
Body full bare
Oh, how he had prized her.
Hickory dickory dock.
The husband now brandished a glock.
Two shots from the dark
The gun met its mark
Hickory dickory dock.
The Things I Said While You Were Sleeping
I am not a good person.
If white lies were good deeds, I’d be called a saint. I substitute nihilism for wit and self-deprecation for charm. I’m too scared to believe in God.
You could do better.
I’m so pretentious. I equate big words with big feelings, and I overuse the semicolon. I don’t know how to tie my shoes properly. I’m afraid of grasshoppers. I get anxious when things stay the same for too long, and change frightens me. I’m haunted by the people I’ve ghosted. I’m daunted by my own heartbeat. Everything I do looks like a cry for help.
Why are you even here?
You are so beautiful. I’ll never deserve you.
I’m the shade to your sunshine.
You rest comfortably beneath me,
but I’m stunting your growth.
I’m holding you back.
I’m obscuring your view of the sky.
Please be patient with me.
I’m a wagon with square wheels.
You bring so much light to the world around you, the sun might be your mirror.
I’m a squalid, pathetic little hermit,
holed up within the confines of his own head.
You’re everything Julie Andrews sings about.
Someday,
if your open eyes don’t halt my heart,
I promise I’ll tell you everything.
