Fevered

There's a ball of naked need
model mask and stilettos
waiting for you in Philadelphia.
Come home,
I have a voice
to whisper to you on early mornings.
Open mouth, make you stickier than summer
I've grown new skin
to press to yours late at night.
I want to slice my wrists on your cheekbones
bleed laughter on your new scars
I have house keys to share with you
And I will pierce your navel
with my tongue.

Tragic Youth

Overcome to mere existence
so moved by the motion
steel in your chest
the 13th girl aimed for 12 lines
thin as cocaine
you walked away
But I have your voice
drawn into dramatic growl
pain and alcohol,
waiting for me
You are black satin sheets
coiled and recoiled
in a dark, humid summer bedroom.

Anticipation

Mindfucking you
with writing utensils,
phonics facial.

Neverending charm,
bridge this distance
every way I can,
any way you'll take.

Scarred paragraphs bleeding letters,
I'm your rag tag gutter glamour, darling.
Slow suicide forever.
Quote bands you don't listen to
till the unfamiliar is colored with weird romance.

Fill slow motion time with nonsense,
we're all mad here-
endless empty vistas till your arrival
mindfuck me.

You're the last thing my eyes cling to
slap the alarm
(overly aggressive drunk)
these orbs burn all day.
Battle for the sun.

I'm marking time
between now
and us.

Ma Belle

I'm going to burn down the Midwest
and in the light of it's death throes,
I'll French kiss your heart
make it all better.
everything.
forever.
This ain't how I planned to paint this city red.
Bring your disease to this frozen waste,
let me send those fingers screaming
for gravestones.
Yeah,
I can be the subtle smile between your thighs,
yeah,
I can make you happy every single goddamn day of your life.
Hair shiver on your trigger, fingering that figure
Cold comfort under steely sky, ironed earth rusting (sadness bleeds).

Deliberately goth,
insecurity drives me to familiar.
Chain smoke cloves in the rain,
Time laughs at me,
got nothing to spare-
nothing glamourous
as ideas.
Too much eyeliner isn't quite enough.
Light a cigarette and man up,
woman.

naked under oversized hypodermic,
crying about that Kansas girl.
Don't trust
where she's at
that is
all she knows.
She's more educated than I.
Constant repetition,
distance makes a fool of me.
Eternal countdowns.
Killer.
How many times can I say
I love her,
I miss her,
I wish
she were here,
before something changes?
I can't cover how I feel about her
all at once.
I am reduced
to smashing it into pieces
covering each fragment individually.
Suck it into my mouth,
let the edges cut my tongue.
I spit roses on the sidewalk,
classy as any homeless bum,
and the veins and arteries outlined on the concrete
seem to scream everything
I feel.
Too bad
I'm not a photographer.

Slip into the...headlight

I hate calling you
my ex.

Dream you're not.
Wake angry
ashamed.

Spine Worm

It’s 8 am.
I’m on a bus to New York.
One hug away from breaking down in public.
don’t touch ANYONE.
Avoid eye contact.
Don’t Panic
My plastic smile is fabulous
whether I am
or not.
I’ve desperately needed an ending for months
but I knew months ago
this is never ending.

Time’s shrinking, you’re the last gasp
before plastic’s pulled
over my face,
slick fill mouth and nostrils,
wrinkling against open eyes.
Thin death tugs my eyelashes
but you’re in my lungs,
mingling with recently illegal blue cinnamon
saving my life.
Without you I’m slug bait.
Can’t wait.
My father calls to tell me when and how I’ll die
sounds so poetic
but it isn’t when you live it.
Preoccupation with mortality is an occupational hazard for ministers.
Mama never left the stage,
she just acts out different dramas.
When antique ashtrays flew through the kitchen like zeppelins,
the blonde schoolgirl I used to be hoped for a new Daddy
but we never had room for a pony.
I’ve always been a preacher’s daughter,
and now I’m an artist’s lover.
I scratch at the back door
let me come in
curl up in your lap.
sleep on your pillow
touch your hair.

You're the sunshine I need.
Pour over my fragile skin and
burn it off.
I will rise from my ashes,
looking for you in the sky.
If I can't find you,
my remains will sketch a picture of you
on every reachable flat surface.
maybe someone will direct you to me
if my smoke signal is black enough.
The seat next to me is always open,
if you’re you.
Thank God you are.

Copper Flavour

Yeah, Phil and I are a thing.
So goddamn modern,
ditching getting hitched for shacking up.
Noncommital fidelity.

I like his tattoos, the Pixies poster in his ammonia scented bathroom.
Phil convinces almost everyone to dye their hair black,
like the cigarettes I smoke on the back porch
sitting up too late
waiting for Dawn to come
baby pink eyeshadow says the world is ending.
I ignore her,
Don’t Panic
Whisper half forgotten poems across the pillow
at that sweaty, sleeping city.

Phil would make an honest woman of me
if I weren’t such a liar.
I keep leaving him
on these blue black stiletto capped sticks
and coming back.
Let’s say I walk into doors,
crooked smile and bleeding gums
She’s so clumsy
Hospitals are for those with insurance
Not me
My parents worry
but they never liked any of my lovers.
And Phil loves me, really really loves me
When he’s not eating me alive.