like a bat out of hell

you were gone in the morning sun

you wanted it you needed it

but you didn't want need me

two out of three is damned

on a hot summer night

you a wolfette

demanding red roses

I gave you my mouth

I gave you my teeth

I gave you my jaws

I gave you my hunger

and you knew that

I would starve without you

but you never ever loved me

oh baby

you were the only thing

in this whole world pure good right

but why you had to get out

you had to break it out of my life

then the sun went out

I'm twisting turning foaming at the mouth

'cause dawn cracked open you were gone I'm so alone

so like a sinner before the gates of heaven

I come crawling knife at my throat

in the gutter bleeding

for crying out loud

you knew I loved you

I am menstrual

unable to fruit.

Wanting beef jerky instead of this complicated plate.

As I hold my hips in my hands, roll my brain back into my eyes

I’m still left hanging like dysfunction on my tongue.

And my heart with its dimensional view of my innards

aches to know a social situation that isn’t frightening.

I write about a lion…

a lot

because

I'm caught between its eyes… often.

Even when I take the long way around a short conversation dancing my poor hurricane til’ dusk lamps bursting in my wake.

He couldn’t ignore the clumsy way I pried open his jaw

Felt the slick sharp of the teeth marked with my name.

The way that I crawled into his mouth and made a bed of his cheek

Lit a candle and wrote on his tongue.

It's dangerous over here, on this side of childhood.

The walls need bleaching after being drenched in grace

and in forms

gestures

silhouettes of what's to be.

Not enough band aids or therapy.

I'm just fragile right now, I think.

Be gentle...

Like the process of making jello.

Like when an autumn leaf crunches into oblivion black back to its maker's arms where I'm half lit unimpressed in cities under street lamps exploding into whispers of me...

This is my erotica

Life becomes

more painful

with alcohol as

the poetic muse

~

So we drink

~

Loss of control

or perhaps it’s

a complete

lack of care

~

Yet we drink

~

Consuming blindly

to the point of

a derangement

of the senses

~

And we drink

~

In our youth

as mad children

we write

and are despised

~

So we drink

~

As we mature

continually writing

still looked

down upon

~

Yet we drink

~

Having grown old

we are judged as

being a waste of

a god given talent

~

And we drink

~

-Apparently-

-quite ironically-

-the talent we seem-

-to not waste-

-is a gift-

-which keeps on giving-

-an ability to-

-heavily-

-imbibe alcohol-

~

So we drink

A Jewish fable:

Once upon a time, a weary traveler named Isaac was granted a special opportunity to see heaven and hell. An angel guided Isaac through a magical doorway, and they found themselves in a magnificent room with a long table in the center. The table was filled with the most delicious food imaginable, a feast beyond compare.

Curious, Isaac looked around and noticed that the people seated at the table seemed sad and famished. He soon realized why: each person had long, unwieldy spoons for arms. The spoons were so long that they couldn’t reach their own mouths, and despite the tantalizing food before them, they were unable to eat.

Feeling puzzled, Isaac asked the angel about the strange scene. The angel explained, “These are the people in hell. They have been given the same feast as those in heaven, but they cannot eat because their spoons are too long to feed themselves.”

Intrigued, Isaac asked the angel to show him heaven. They passed through another doorway and arrived in a similar room with a long table filled with delectable food. To Isaac’s surprise, the people in heaven also had long spoons for arms.

But here was the difference: the people in heaven were nourished and joyful. They, too, had spoons they couldn’t manipulate to feed themselves, but instead of wallowing in despair, they were using their spoons to feed each other. Each person picked up food with their long spoon and reached across the table to feed their neighbor.

Isaac marveled at the scene, realizing that the people in heaven had discovered the secret to true fulfillment. By selflessly helping one another, they not only satisfied their own hunger but also built a community based on compassion and cooperation.

As the story goes, the fable of “The Long Spoons” teaches us the importance of kindness, empathy, and mutual support. It reminds us that when we extend a helping hand to others, we create a better world for everyone, not just ourselves.

By: Pablo Neruda

Now if you’d leave me in peace.

Now if you’d get on without me.

I am going to close my eyes

And I only want five things,

five favorite roots.

The first is love without end.

The second is to see autumn.

I cannot be without leaves

flying away and returning to earth.

Third is grave winter,

the rain I loved, the caress

of a fire in a wilderness of cold.

In fourth place is summertime

round like a watermelon.

The fifth thing is your eyes,

Matilde, my love, my beloved,

I don’t want to sleep without your eyes,

I don’t want to be without you seeing me:

I’d trade springtime

for your gaze still upon me.

My friends, all of that is what I want.

It’s nearly nothing and almost everything.

And now if you wish you may leave.

So much have I lived that one day

you’ll have to make yourselves forget me,

erasing the blackboard of me:

my heart was endless.

But just because I ask for silence

don’t go thinking I’m about to die:

au contraire!:

it so happens I am going to be lived.

It just so happens that I am and I keep being.

I will not be dying for within me

grains will grow,

first the kernels that break through

the ground to see light,

but mother earth is dark:

and inside me I am dark:

I am like a well in whose waters

the nighttime leaves her stars

and goes on alone through the fields.

This is about my having lived so much

that I want to live another much.

Never have I felt such resonance,

never have I had so many kisses.

Now, as always, it is early.

The light takes flight with her bees.

Leave me alone with this day.

I ask permission to be born.