Play-Doh Heart
This heart of mine
stretches and bends
to fit any mold
It changes its
shape and color
to meet the needs of
each soul it comes across
This play-doh heart of mine
has been left out to dry
It's cracking and crumbling
Falling apart piece by piece
Unlike the brightly colored doh,
my play-doh heart can't be
softened and restored with water
It requires something stronger,
tonight I'll submerge it in
a bottle of Jameson
in hopes of restoring it,
if only for a moment
This play-doh heart of mine
stretches and bends to meet
everyone's needs but mine
Damaged.
Nothing comes close
to the skin she wears.
hatred knitted into
fibers of her bones.
stolen soul, and hidden,
deep, within evil dreams ...
no yesterday's lift her head.
blood washing down drains,
with secrets to keep,
and a gullet full of whiskey to 'mend' ...
How about,
Fuck you.
yes, hatred is real.
Hatred is felt.
Hatred is lived.
Hatred is betrayal.
Hatred kills and
sends unwanted souls to hell.
pain is only but a scar,
it scabs, it heals
and you move the fuck on.
Hatred is forever ...
It's what you hog tie
as you beat it
like a piñata,
laughing in the face of weakness,
squealing in fear,
giving a half assed attempt for forgiveness.
but the damage has already been done ...
My Accomplice
These walls were once pure
and white as snow
But frankly,
that was a lifetime ago
I stole their innocence
in the darkest hours of the night
I forced myself upon them
and stained them
to match the color of my heart
Like a sponge,
they absorb everything
They're cracking and crumbling
under the weight of keeping
all my secrets safe
I Miss You
Darkness has settled in around me.
I've worked myself into the ground. Dawn until beneath the moon. The cicadas and the frogs of my youth cry out. A break from the labor to light a smoke and rest my overworked legs. My ears embrace the sounds of the southern night. Calling out to me like a prodigal friend. They are different now without you. I hear a different tune. Somber and low. A silent grief upon the hills. A heavy sadness. And I look up to the darkened windows. Where once there was such life and warmth. The house sits empty and unfinished. A shadow of the past. Nights on the front porch swing and cracking walnuts on the drive.
Its almost as though you're still there. Inside that facade of the house you built. From the life you gave us. I almost expected you to greet me at the door and usher me inside for breakfast and coffee stiff and black.
But you never came. Even today its too hard to wrap the sordid mesh of my brain around your absence.
A house without a lady. Fields without an owner. A family without a Matriarch. A black sheep without a Grandmother's gentle hand filled with faith. And I miss you always but even more so today than the day before.
Roommate
I have a roommate
who believes she lives alone
Though I've never made
my presence known to her
She finds comfort in me
and talks to me as if
she knew I was listening
I can feel her staring at me
Sometimes for what
seems like hours
Searching for something
beneath the white paint
If I could only leave this room
I'd go out and find
her the help she needs
I hear it all
The 1 am drunkenness
The 2 am screaming
The 3 am crying
The 4 am pleas
But what I hear the most
is the silence while she
fights the battle within
Rebel Hearts and Morrison and Ginsberg
"There's a rebel inside us all. You've just put Prada and a tiara on yours to hide it"
Choke down the last bit of freedom. Swallow the tears forming inside her eyes. Untangle your fingers entwined.
Shoulders Squared. Back straight. Close your eyes and whisper the mantras of your childhood gone. "Walk it off." "There's no crying. " Steal Magnolia and Stiff Upper Lip. You aren't feining strength for you now. Fight the building crowd. Uniformed, pressed and clean. Shove it back but kiss her lips. Make sure you kiss her lips. A frightened pause. Are they trembling or are they cold? Scarred wrists from humanity's cuffs. Resigned to fate. Purge yourself of drink and drug or overdose and die face down inside misfortunes cell.
Blame yourself. Eat the guilt. Shut down the image of her face. Blockade your liver and your brain. Consume the Devil's drink of death. Wander drunk and unaware through the alleyways of time. Do not love do not feel.
Haunting days of backstreet rebellion in "high class" hotels. Fuck the world and all her faults and smile. We have each other she said. And I obliged with a smile.
Turn the Fifth of Jim up on a
Crowded downtown street on a friday night. Pass the pipe with ease as you pass the PD. Theres no fear here. It's reckless nights. Drunk and consumed with lust and love and forgiven pasts. It's doing ten shots on a strangers tab. As they watch us in undiluted lust. And laughing as the cabbie picks us up.
Its lipstick stains on a pressed Ralph Lauren button up and tit shots in board meeting. Two hours late and unapologetic because the rope burns on my wrist recalls your tongue lingering, teasingly, on my clit.
Fuck the world! It's you and me. Unashamed of my neatly tailored skirt and the Cliché Louboutins. Laughing at the contrast. You and your Nike Kicks and my Ala mater hoodie. Cutting lines of coke as you drive. I'm drunk and insecure and you're high and unnerved. You flirt too much you say. I shrugged it off. Until the tears came and I laughed at the innocence of your youth. It's me and you baby girl. And the honesty of my words hit home. So I drunkenly hold the wheel as you quickly do a line. It's off of a hard bound copy of A Tale of Two Cities and I pause to explain Carton's love and how you are the epitome of Lucy and you smile and say maybe you aren't Sydney in this equation. The question holds the room and I consider I'm not the hero here.
Kiss her lips and let her go. She's made her own bed. choices linger like tension in your skull. Strike out and shut her down. "Always"you say and she smiles through the hardened tears. Expression set. Hardened. "You and me. Me and you. " I laugh. Jim and Pam. Pam and Jim. "I'm your Carl Soloman babe." I nod to the growing crowd and the presentation. And I whisper to myself as I walk away Me and you. Jim and Pam. Every Allen needs a Carl. To face the Neon Supermarkets of the world.