on sundays time gets funny
loneliness is embarrassing. it’s important. it’s love. it’s blood.
it’s a god rushing in your ears like an ugly train track
for the unlucky, of course.
i stole this loneliness from you
and made it mine.
i took on the world’s loneliness
and became a beast.
i grew into him easily.
i knew what it meant to be foul.
the children were right -
the world is good
but all stories must have a villain.
the world is good and i crawl in its walls
like a horrible thing.
there is a rotten-eyed god
who kisses me to sleep
leaves me lovestruck
smokes a cigarette while i lie awake.
lover, i am at this intersection,
waiting in the busy crossroads of time
to cross the street.
find me in the darkness,
find me at the red light,
find me as a drunk driver,
just find me.
do not rest
until i am in your apartment
shivering from the rain
like a wet dog.
will you save me?
is this something i can ask of you?
find me in rush hour traffic.
on a crowded street
lost in translation
and messy at the lines.
dare i ask you to decode me?
to sit me down on your moth-eaten couch
and read me like a worn-out book?
i do contain stories
but you may not want to read them.
they are sad, mostly.
i need to write myself out of this one.
i need to write a novel, or a prayer.
something to chew on
when the days get cold.
i’ve learned to hold loneliness in my mouth
like a cat with a mouse
like the battle is over, which, of course,
is a lie.
i’ve learned all the falsehoods in the world
and taken them on as my own.
when you strip me down
and put me to bed
there will be nothing left of me
to kiss softly.