Detox

Watching a Japanese firebrand
whip up a dish and spit lyrically
sonorous of luck and hard work
while customers guffaw, I feel
handcuffed.  How do I not speak
fluently in.  Tapestries of fragments.
Yep.  800 words for yes in my
vernacular.  1100 words and
phrases for no.  Counting
inflections, of course.
Talking you down in the bathroom mirror: "I believe in"
panting heavy.
Other lives.
Other time.
A galaxy
far, far,
away.

Smoker 63

I dunno why she hit me.
Alcohol.
And Xanax and Klonopin and
the rest of the family.
Frustration with
death.
Knowing the chalk will be there
long after the detectives
and theories have gone away.
To die
four thousand two hundred and eighty one times.

The family.  The totems to power
an engine capable of collapsing stars.
Constellations winked out of existence
with a sigh and a "cheers!"

The "what if"s
tapped
from the end of the sound,
rattled bones,
against garbage can bodies.
Interned and buried
still breathing.
Your mistake
was
leaving us alive.              Footnote 4A56: storytelling trope #830

No one ever said you have to kill yourself
at once.  Rules are made to be broken.  Paws
for applause.
It is a strange rabbit hole
to pursue.
There is nothing beyond self loathing and escape.
To be afraid of embracing yourself
is fractal.
To understand that you cannot be
is torture.
To understand that you should not be
is light.
To understand that you are
is power

to leave constructs behind.
Water is wet.
The wind blows.
Stone is stony.
Leaves are fibrous.
Fire is fluid.
Sadness is absence and so is happiness.

There once was an all knowing all being that made an awl.

To live long enough to see the world end.

How many times should one die
before


                                        Halt.

                         

Smoker 62

Waiting for McCourty to show.
The old itch for crack.
And still wondering if he's dead or not.
It is kind of funny.
Watching someone self destruct & when.
Guestimations are a gas.
I do wonder shaman theory,
the idea that there is one in every village.
What happens when two arrive
in the same?

Can they be married?

Or maybe one's powers cancel the other's out
the same way streetlights can mute
beacons in the night sky.

Or maybe
the way fireworks can deafen to the point
sight is the only way they can be conjoined
and thereby render
soap for the masses.

The tug and pull and ... have you seen the shadows move?

Ah, what does it matter.

We all die.  Visions are a prank.  A genomic joke.

Laugh, live, love,
behind a cigarette.

Song To My Mother

If you had the years back
that you whispered about
across the faux granite kitchen table cleaned,
crosswords and papers and notes,
packets of artificial sweeteners,
phone pamphlets and applications,
half eaten toast and tea cups gone cold,
unfinished math problems and pencils,
the loose change unorganized and all
face up, broken earring and tabloids,
and oh so much mail to sort
would you break into the same pieces
the same repurposed tupperware
for your parts
waiting
for someone to reassemble you?

Wednesday Brunch Menu

Holding my pillow inhaling my own armpit funk
three days into abandoning showering to rest
to fuck
the option arrives to eat a breakfast sandwich
that does not include you.  I would rather starve.

Smoker 62

I know we stopped
a long time ago.
Scraping taste buds
to remove goo.
Please, let's not do
an entire pack
in one evening
regardless
of how manic
we are.

Silencer

Five hundred caliber.

Minister.

A preacher.

A reacher to end all things in a blink.

End all blood red vomit in a sink.

You and I we think.

Or maybe we stink.

Like dead bones dug up from ages ago.

Living bones are love from a time we cannot remember.

We remember most of everything.

Everything being a blanket over nose.

And mouth. How the is a construct to help us go.

Self conscious for a year and smeared.

Smeared lives.  How many times do I have to die before

I learn.

Get tired of waking up.  Don't we get tired of waking

anew.  Everything bleeds, sir!  Can you walk?

It doesn't rhyme.  Die or due to die or sky walk

backwards, strewn body parts and a head said

headset scripts are reserved for the deadset

skipset skip around everything exists at once

all the time every time dinner time kill every one

kill everything when you're born in a hell bear everything

every sound every taste every touch every beam of light

kill everything hurts.

Snort aloud.  Did that come out of my mouth?

Or did it come of out of my nose?

Everything hurts.

We were simple then.

Broken

bird

wings

gaudy

and 'purdy.  Some flash if the sun shone right.

Some photos to take if there was good moonlight.

Black grease and cages. Fences and contained rages.

Never leave home without a hawk is still rule.

Thirty three and still no actual tool.

Except the one I've honed.

Honed to protect a traveling home.

Snort laughter.

A bastard. Fantasize about deer slugs ending everything

that embodied what fear was

thelastthoughtyouhadworthhavingIhadanightmareaboutmydadand

I swear every day I want to kill him

with an antiaircraft weapon

shoot through the walls because if I step in

I'll walk right into his arms and he'll son me

the way he did for too many eras

and I will never make that mistake again.

Where his life ends my world begins.

Is the falsum I tell myself

to feel my time on this earth is worth its wealth.

I get tired of dreaming, screaming awake

like my 500,000 horsepower engines have a date with fate.

They don't.  I want to break the silence.

Take the forms to where they live.

Take the forms to where they build.

Talk is cheap, the market is.

Claps claps clapsclapsclapsclapsclapsclapsclaps.

The fires of rage do not have fences.

Chain links.  Fingers poke through, without rails, we speak.

Pain does not have boundaries.

Your worst self may be the best in the foundries.

I don't know where you're from.

I don't know who sent you.

What I know is I have been numb.

Numb for too long. A hip bone with no femur to tongue.

Getting our body together

300,000 days at the river.

Maybe not that long.

Time stops living life as a

NAN