Not so Black and White

Only today
you realized you are drowning
in this mess
of an apartment
with linoleum you hate
and a too-small balcony
you dream of
leaping from;
and this mess of
a marriage
inhabited now
only by malignant silence.

You get by on
purchased
slow-motion love,
like shutter clicks
in your mind
she beckons you closer
and offers you
escape – euphoria
and explains
that it feels like
she imagines
the afterlife would.

Pure white powder
(like on mountain tops)
color-blindness
is a side-effect of
the drug –
nausea,
that tick-tocking rhythm
of pain just behind
your left eye
and fat onion tears
pouring out
over dinner.

You fight to breathe
or fight
just for the hell of
feeling passionate
about something
while some poor sap
writes
a love letter
that will never be answered.

Word Games

I wish for succulent
juice – between fingers
(wet) yes wet
and crumbs
in our distant eyes,
giant moons – pulsing.
Oh, night
forever and ever
and ever endeavor (for)
sickly – new.
She’s fragile
and broken, (splintered)
molting fur in autumn
drips.
The dusty lips set warm
on the highest notch;
it tocks ticks,
counting
beer bottles on fences,
blowing songs – murmurs of
(faded) love.
Stringing words
of jumbled
nonsense escaping.
I distance myself; retracting
like window blinds –
vertical, plasticized
moans.

Aftermath

I have
a bleeding heart
that spreads its
rot
through my veins
to my mouth,
and I ooze
false-truths
and
self-destruction.

There’s an
expiration date
on this love
of mine
and you smell it
turning sour,
leaking
noxious gas
to spontaneous combustion.

My
rubbed-red eyes
and shaking hands,
they know
what’s coming
before my mind
catches on,
tectonic shifting
and deconstruction.

There’s a
boiling point
where my
ears ring numb
and the
truth of us
comes spilling
out,
covering us all
with a
flaming eruption.

I take in
the chaos and
this ravaged body,
emotional wreckage
a small
price to pay.
My head beats
red,
my bones
bleed corruption.

There’s dust
that settles
and nerves that fight
to twist themselves
together,
my lungs that
ache for
clarity,
instruction.

The buzzing stops
and the smoke
dissipates,
and here in
the rubble
is you. is me.
We fight for
our lives.
A re-introduction.

Natural Disaster

I bloom
beneath the warmth
of your hands
like magnolias
in this august heat:
full-bodied, fragrant
and bursting.

The sun slants
in sideways
and lights your eyes
up like melting ice –
burning and
brilliant;
a flame that eats
the oxygen straight
from my lungs.

And there was the
center of the galaxy
orbiting your
irises,
pulling me in
on myself
like gravity.

Your lips move
deliberately;
two rounded halves
of a ripened peach.
They bleed truth
and the idea
that kissing them
just might
paralyze me.