fadingreverie

There once was an earthen boy Whom I’ve had the misfortune of loving With coarse little hands And long springy limbs It already reads like a tragedy On rubble we kissed Covered in soot Notes of muffled anguish Eerily in the background Were disregarded We leapt forth into the shadows Fingers intertwined We swam in great lakes Picked thorns out of each other’s wounds Slept in a tangled cocoon Under the moonlight Spring fell short and droughts burned our skin Breasts against his back I was the shelter He crawled inside and hid Plagued by whispers Stirred out of sleep At nights we went searching For home was no longer s

Morning Time to squeeze into the old meat suit Time to match Shoes to bag  to skirt to depression And breathe in Ideals and goals A foreign concept known as productivity Tongue  limp behind a wall of crooked teeth Be sure to keep all fingers clock punching ready Time to march dutifully out the door While paying attention the staccato of your steps aligns with your sighs and heartbeats and traffic Good morning Don’t forget to be a willing participant

You've yet to uncover the true meaning behind broken promises and hollow commitments Until the day  reality becomes numb legs and shaky hands While the fate of the universe rests                                    on your new-found inability to hold a pen

Kosher slaughterhouses are now covered   with luxury apartments   so we can all have our steak   wipe mouths with silk as we rip that meat politely all frantic crying is now encased in marble ensuring death is at bay Once we   sweat rivers as we hauled the cattle in dined solely on fish   and picked bones out our teeth   Now we keep our skinny fists   deep inside our pockets   the blood rinsed away completely Absentmindedly   we let our tongues skim yellowing canines   and note   polished marble sounds like decay  

Silver tongued and self-assured   So aware that he knows best   With great success did he convince all That it holds true Silver tongued and well informed   He knows just what a girl needs Vulnerable runs in her fishnets   Not so innocent marks on bony knees Dusty circles overrun by slim dark rivers   Under fate accepting eyes   A harness-like braid   Useful when coiled ever so tightly   All complete with Wrists constrained in unseen chains Whilst the key belongs to him Silver tongued and expectant   The self dubbed repairman thinks that a smudge of paint   To conceal unsightly failures   Some tape for ghastly cracks   Thin thread for

These lines are all I leave behind My boots are already pounding on the sidewalk To my father Despite your teaching I failed to learn loyalty To my mother We spoke different languages I tried to understand To my brother I'm not coming home Not today Not ever To my sister The moment I let go of your hand My feet tripped on the path To my lover The tragedy of it all stands In the very millisecond I closed my eyes.

On the day I tried to read Ulysses my feelings grew and shrank in tempo with my horrid thoughts (I couldn't decide what I truly want in all the banality , in the all the mediocre ways we hurt others). You bought this book because I asked you to. Now I can't read a page without seeing your face...

Humans have 12 ribs on each side of their ribcage. I know this because Madame counts ours every week. Less than 12 and back of the line it is. Carbs are bad, fats are worse, remember to eat less next time. Someone always cries. Until today, my record was pristine. "You have 10 ribs." Truth is usually uncomfortable. I didn't cry like the others. At home I went through my father's drawer. I pierced my fingers. Found it. It amazes me how sometimes, life just hands you everything you need. "I see you cut back on the garbage." I've never seen her eat. "Well done". I'm in the front again. When they all left, she bent over, adjusti

Dear Mr. Mixed Bag,          There  is a small pile of ash          on my coffee table          a remnant          of your (oh so very) thought filled          morning cigarette          A similar pile          resides  downstairs          where I rested my head          on your shoulder          When you stared          into the polluted distance          I found myself caught          in realization          Doubt means possibility          while truth          with its nasty, gravelly voice            forever reminds me          that I miss you too much .

The gates were open I followed through unsuspecting Placed myself On the left side of a wooden bench I found no beauty in hindsight When the light coming from behind the fence Cruelly unfolded a night I‘d rather forget