I’m sitting on the edge of tears.
Death by 1,000 paper cuts.
Thin-skinned.
Ankle deep in things I wish I would have said.
Chosen victim,
Fool,
Coward.
Do not be so hard on yourself.
It is brave to feel
And to love.
But it is also stupid.
Ankle deep in all the things I might say one day.
Just don’t fuck up the mood tonight, ok?
Thin-skinned.
See-through.
Blue veins.
Blue brain.
One day, I will step off this tightrope.
These old kneecaps
Full of empty threats.
One day they’ll mean it,
And I’ll cry.
You ever try to fill your chest
Beyond your lungs?
One day my ribs will
Throw their arms up in concession.
Thighs, “thickms”,
Strength, strife.
Run, rage, hope, hate.
I think I love you.
Left eye more open than the right,
A shy Cupid’s bow
And my grandmother’s nose
To connect it all.
Teeth that can’t stand
To be near each other.
Eyes, always guessing,
Pressing closed against the sting.
Some days I wish I was just a body.
Thoughtless and fearless,
Present.
Just here to be.
Without a memory or a worry Or anything, really, Except for blood, my mother’s skin, And my father's bones.
Why do I always cry when I think about why I love you? Why am I so scared? It is a new experience. It is like feeling heat but not knowing the source. And then One day you realize You're able to open the frosted glass doors. And behind them There is the fire. Burning with peaceful conviction. Patient warmth. Something new but familiar. Beautiful but risky. Contained but powerful.
You catch a photon of light In your retina. A photon that has traveled Hundreds, thousands, millions...billions Of years To find rest in the bespeckled mitt Of a golden-brown iris And set fire to the nerve endings That reach for your attention And hold you by the ears And force you to look into yourself As you look into the night sky. Was that photon destined for you? Was it fate that you two would meet? Has it been on its way Pinballing off silver moons And glowering meteors? Programmed into it — you. No question and no alternative. You were meant to meet. I wait for the next time A wink of starlight Leaps into me And places me both near and far To it all.
Wears a misty cap.
And the asphalt sings
With a metallic odor.
This feeling hangs
Like a lead shawl
Drawing down my eyelids
Against the white sky.
Coastal sage scrub
Pleads on the side of the I-15
For the brush of a coyote’s tail.
Desperate optimism.
Anger, taps on the glass window
Annoyed that it has to wait.
But it’ll wait,
Even if it takes all night.
It is better to hash this out.
Kick at the puddles.
Scatter this muddy water
Across the sidewalk.
The wet season has been long
For us. A monotonous drizzle.
White noise and floods
On a Saturday morning.
Sitting on your cooler
You pull me in closer,
You say that you like me
And the rest is history.
Your smell, your breath
Your views on death
Your voice, your hands
Your working man’s tan.
I count my blessings
When they aren’t around.
I’m lost and I’m messy.
With you I’m found.
I thought I was waiting
On the right time to say this.
But I was right all along
And waiting was wrong.
The anger is changing
How I read your reactions.
Emotional violence
Ignites the dark silence.
The full moon is hanging
Somber in the smog.
We flash down the 10 West
“Would you just give it a rest?”
My fears do the blaming.
My ego is a paper maché planet.
We guard against the unreal,
We drown in what we feel.
Darling, we are waning.
Shadows crawled in our heart.
But the sun will still burn
And the earth will still turn.
And the full moon will return.
Phone
Phone
Phone
Can we talk about
Marriage and kids?
Phone
Phone
It’s okay
Phone
We’ll discuss it later
Phone
Look at this video
Of this kid farting
At a family gathering
Phone!
Phone
Phone
I think the dog needs to go out
Phone
Rock, paper, scissors?
Phone
Phone
I should write more
Phone
I should paint more
Phone
I should check my
Phone
Maria was born In the southeast desert of California, Like the place where Walter White hides out; Like the place where Denny’s is a bar And a restaurant; Like the place where Cher is from. She had aspirations. She would not die in the desert Without being known. Without. Being. Seen. She married a man Who inherited a luxury car Dealership. She moved into his parent’s house In the dark orange sprawl Of Camancho, CA. She was, and she is The most beautiful woman In Camancho. And her husband knows it. “Wear this. Pose for me.” She’s there. In Christmas lingerie Smiling at you Beckoning you To look anywhere except for her cleavage. On the side of the 138. She is there, smiling. At home, She steps out into the navy night. She acknowledges the impatient Winter wind. She squints in the moonlight Knowing she is The Queen of Camancho.
Hello, sunshine;
I saw you blushing
On the rocky magenta mountains.
Joshua trees
Yawn into the edgy clouds
Look to one another
And say, “it is cold.”
The desert is unapologetic,
Even in the winter.
Neurotica 