Dear New Year’s Eve,

your voice

unfurls soft

whispering

let go

and I’ll catch you

close

rest

and touch

the broken

parts of you

gentle

i’ll hold you

and your

space

between

breaths

exhale

You are safe

there is no feeling in the world comparable to grief.

grief is secure, like fire to the carpet

a reflection of green from the moon through the stained glass

reminds me there is life outside of pain

but I am locked inside and the key is lost

somewhere in the flames

I don’t search for it; there is comfort in knowing

my love was strong and real.

two tits hit together,

tickle a nipple with a flame feather,

I sip from ether,

tether a neck with polyester leather,

in petals rising aether,

sequester and pressure,

a bottle of clean linen freshener

The rain ran down the trolley’s windows as it swept through the city. He had his new clothes on with a backpack by his side. The self-awareness was devastating. Not only did he notice every gaze and look in his direction, but was haunted by a series of memories that in retrospect had been attributed to his own contemporary consciousness.

A guy in khakis and jacket patched with logos of the local sport team, jumped on the seat beside him.

‘Can you believe the Raiders beat the Charges by three points! And on fucking Christmas eve.’ Said the man, leaning in but not making eye contact.

‘I don’t watch any sports, sorry.’ He said, pulling his bag closer.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Said the man. ’I don’t know what your life is like, but football, it connects everybody. You can be anyone, anywhere in the States, and that common thing of play stirs deep within us those old Gods. That feral infant - leaping, screaming, crying in primal youth! Every moment is full at the coliseum of fair competition. Do you know how many wars were prevented because of sports?'

He shook his head.

‘Man, you got to pick up a book, go read, or something.’ Said the man.

A dude in joggers in white and blue moved from the back to the front of the cart.

‘Hey, yo! You catch that game? Can you believe it?’ Said the man.

‘That piece of shit coach should have been hung from the goal post by his guts,’ Said the jogger spitting to the side in disgust,

‘Damn right.’ Said the man.

My scars are burning today

Harry’s got nothing on me

I see how they can be grotesque but I’ve always been so fond of them

perhaps because I love myself that much I thought that

maybe you would too

you tried, I know

but I really was not made for you

so love me do the way you would if you had never seen me blue

say it babe, “Adieu.”

i will always love you

debris

of dead leaves

grass cuttings

hair, fruit rinds,

vegetable peels

tea bags, coffee grounds

organic gold

garbage to most

with underlying heat

the mound creates

spontaneous combustion

of peaceful adjacent

gardens

Cared for properly

and turned to process

healthy mediums

arise,

transformation occurs

Otherwise

the covered stench

permeates

all

it's almost cliché to say you make me feel safe. it's such a fluffy statement, it doesn't do the feeling justice. when you're eyes gaze at me, staying a little longer than "just friends". when you go out of your way to be where i am, to be close to me, doing things i like with the people i enjoy hanging out with... our shared interests and views on life, the way we both let our failures go to our head...

maybe it's not a good thing to just let this all come out but i don't care. it's a ticking time bomb within my chest and it's a matter of time before i blow up.