to use string cheese
on a sub-calibur frozen pie

is to peel and
thatch that ****
like a gooey roof on a
cherry splatch wheat saucer

says my little
space-traveler

in moments

where now transcends
inner *******

and we tremble
with life

whatever you are, allow it
wherever feel creeps, follow it
whenever rage leaks, catch it
ever in your spiral, route it
under your spectroscope
finesse the focus until
your pupils explode
Original Lite-Brite
patterns magnify
stills emerge
inner space
traversed

Things Two & One
bring the greatest of fun

flying kites inside days
of icicle rain

sure, their messes
are of epic proportions

but so are subsequent
clean-up forays

author-architecting
an illustrative lesson:

it’s OK to make messes

they’re classes to master
skills of the pristine

I'm here
to sprinkle sugar
on that somber skull

to pipe fuchsia roses
and circle purple petals
around those two blind holes

where decay caved in
and bloom your sight
again

I decorate your death
because what comes next

is life

decompose
fester
rot

go through the dark tunnel
let the painful push you out
to the other side

honor the circle
the end is never
the end

death is not morose finality
but grandiose opportunity
prerequisite necessary

in this Holy Unified Scheme
of infinite resurrection

figuratively
and quite literally
it's beautiful, really...

the One is ever clever
with the poetic symbols

if you stop and stare
into silken fractals orbiting
the pistil of a lotus blossom
you'll see

truth whispering
through a sliver of eternity

this symposium of somersaults
synaptic rafter vaulting

if only i could swap
mind & body levels

ascendant acrobat
with still insides

is starting to do
running leaps
at my uvula

from bile pool below
where it's been stewing
for quite some time

it's going to latch on
real good and tight
with white-knuckle fists
one of these days

and herald in
songs of sorrowful
karmic oneness

(and hopefully
some laughter
at the absurdity
ushering humility
with eyes wide
seeing through
the slits in salted
facepalms)

and lessons
oh my, the lessons...

#1 = we are the creators

of our hells
and our heavens

while I was locked
and gagged
inside me

I took the time to
do some crucial things
enabling me to
face you
shakily

I went back
to the beginning
ate each and every thing
I thought was a no
and inked over
so hard I
ripped

the paper
with yes

I edited
our timedlines
inside my mind
struck thru rejections
Sharpie marked in insecure
pushpull bulls puncturing
red cloaked fear
with horns

I engineered
utmost empathy
by stumbling through
scenes I thought I knew
in your dusty kicks
forlorn and weary
in a bath robe

and I prayed
with heart splayed
between wide legs
whispering my truth:
your name

is how my mood
(current longing latitude)
affects how deep ink seeps
and flavors it releases

sometimes
I’m numb to it

but when I set down
shield and doubt

feels sucker-punch me
imprint other pattern
stain singe teeth felt

latent ***** stripped
worldly bearings dizzy
not catching
spiral

then seconds
multiply

not dodge or burn but grow
where it all often slides
and I palm groove

it rolls inside as memoir
with new car smell
epiphanic brushed script
in hallowed blues
& pinstriped opal

my vibration outpaces
the weight of existence
cuts it off around
my bending

center stills enough
to catch glinting dust
before I turn
to it

look over at
the empty passenger seat

and imagine
you’re there and wink
as internal asides
chime out loud

showing you
eyes that go

where all the words
have fallen short

I was doing one of my
healing ceremonies solo

and I thought
to myself:

maybe he needs me
to go away to feel
his own heart
- alone -

in space

and precisely then,
I felt this

Clydesdale inside my chest
whinny, kick up and surge

like holy hell -
please

don't stop
writing
ever

and I
abide

tummy turned queasy
fraught patterns carbonated
think it’s too much brains

set reminders for when I slip
down the steep and forget:

it’s all wretched and beautiful
as is plummeting onto
blue-black knees

it means I’m here—
in the land of breath
and flux leaves

for the times
I said the wrong thing

for the gagged silences
I Iet speak for me

for poetic interpreters giving
insecurities creative license

for the things I knew
and didn’t say anything

for letting my fears fester
until they exploded

for the days wasted
and nights tormented

for my sudden releases
on this karmic rubber band

and, most of all, for
how it’s so hard to be

the one thing we both so
desperately need

some days
the internet
won't let me
forget

in a barrage
of quotes
and memes

this one
screamed at me:

you can't break up
with a soul mate

say yes
to my

hipnotic
invitations

and bury you
in me

alive

I want you
and all your molecules
blissfully unruly

I can't figure out
if I'm supposed to be
an oddball Eros-laced
poetic artist of sorts

this revolutionary
evolution redesigner
with wake-the-****-up
typographic punches

or a sower of seedlings
via silly rhymes scheming
with wacked-out visualizations
for story-time imaginations
to mold future generations

ideally,
I want to do all three...

praying for the mind
time and energy
to manifest all
I can
Be

(including
rocking the ****
outta this day job
that's molding me
into a better model
who knows how to float
merrily upon her dreams
obsoleting false me)

*happythankUmoreplease

your mouth sneaks
over me

a surprise breeze
swift like cyclonic
autumn leaves

the fallen dead
dancing
alive

I felt something
pulling me

so I looked, back
over my heavy shoulder
as I lugged that broken seat
down the stairs on casters

it fell apart
when he grabbed it by the arms
and slammed it into the linoleum
with me in it

after I rolled it to the dumpster
and lifted it over the metal edge,
I remember the relief of letting go
of that fractured, useless piece

somehow I was
lighter

as if tossing that moment
and all the things
no longer safe
for me

I’m hungry
and want to bite things

each dawn I rouse
increasingly light(er)
like midnight realized
she dosed me improper
siphoned back sludge
in the IV dropper
and daybreak snuck
pre-op biotics
that kick in as
I flutter

I feel
the veil

lift.

and guise of years inside
you’re sanitized from the outside
custom toxin bubble confined

pop
and deflate

I’ve been guarding me
for so long.

after you live in prison
upon your release, you still
put walls around yourself
don’t trust don’t trust don’t
believe

anyone

is.
safe.

your create bars
to stay that way
just like home
penitentiary

that tucked you in
told you howwherewhen
you didn’t get to
make decisions
you didn’t
belong

to you.

then when on your own
you still don’t feel you
belong to anyone

I was so used
to playing small
I kept shrinking me
habitually

but
I. am.

uncontainable
and part always
of the all

as love culture multiplies
in open air beyond
illusory bars

I look up so high
level with my own
open eye

realize I’ve been
sitting under a table
in the broom closet

when I coulda been mingling
in the party just outside
where lights don’t chase, just
reflect iridescent cocktail dress

and there is laughter
with not one nanosecond
false, forced or choreographed

for the bones just know
and move
in song

my poetry was trying
to be something:

pretty, deep, unique

as if cosmic recycling
can ever be solitarily
special

that’s all just
suped-up vanity
lighting one’s own face

now I just try to paint
authentic real on
my vanilla ***

with crinoline skirts
flung overhead

tethered dependent mental patients
and we've made a showroom
out of the waiting room
for distraction hacks trafficking ills
bought with souls sold off
straightjacketed addicts
aching to take the sting
out of this taut
existence

you took my hand
showed me yours
and my jaw unhinged
you had me then & there
up against your wall
******* pushed aside
suddenly incapable
of mouthing anything
but yes

;)

if and when
we’re in a space
screaming fuckyesicandothis
face-to-face

expectations shall be level-set
at (or below) exploratory, bizarre
mutual muse meanderings

and if ever
we find ourselves wrapped
around each other’s necks
each baring half
of one cracked, flaming heart

we will know without a doubt
what is and isn’t possible

I’m not looking to force a relationship
just someone to ride shotgun
on my mental trips
and yes, I am driving the spaceship...

and if that becomes
best ride ever
just know

the thing I’ve always wanted
is a best friend

I can’t keep my hands off of

I have zero concerns
about Part B

and Part A alone
is no consolation prize

I want you in my life
no matter what we are

even if just symbiotes
like now...

;)

my soul still
wants to frolic
in the technicolor fields
of our imagination

it's just this
earthly body
has ever-so-many
furrowed brows
eye-rolls and face-palms
(+ curt middle fingers)

I dunno
***
to do about it

one place ineptitude comes up a lot
is the presumed judgment
for my skill level at parenting

I definitely don't feel
like I fit in
there

I'm sure some of this is imagined
but some of it is definitely because
I still struggle with basic things
like remembering
and also I am just
different

it's weird how some letters
etch into my brain permanently
but then I can't remember to do things
like buy a shower curtain liner
after I threw away the moldy one -
it took me five weeks to finally
remember to put it on the list
on that device that's always in hand
and think to look at it at the store
and not after I get home
perpetually wetting
my bathroom floor

shopping is hard a lot
sometimes we have fun
and it doesn't seem stressful
but other times it's this covert panicked
mad dash to get what's required
and I'm always forgetting things like
toilet paper

it's really weird
what survival mode does to brains

I look at these aliens
who make me feel like they are
professional parents from a foreign land
where every item in their pantry is stored
in cute matching air-tight canisters
with custom labels and dates
and birds fly in the window to sing
while they fold their laundry
at dutiful intervals

I just feel like
a child with a child
in parenting world
even though I know
I'm getting better

when I first came back
I would zone out
from everyone
randomly cry

it was nice
to not have to explain -
my family mostly assumed
it was me detoxing from
that wretched hellship
and subsequent mechanisms
of control he was keeping up
(thank god that really seems to be
stopping, so good I almost don't even
want to get my hopes up, but he seems
to be seeing and letting go of all the ****
he was doing even six months ago...
I hope and pray losing me and the life
he could have had with his son
haunts him enough to break through
his denial and rage and heal enough
to be a decent human being for my kid)

but I wasn't crying over him
he brings me to anger with a speed
and skill level I have never before
and hope to never see again
so, there was rage for him
but those tears
were not his

they were for the shattered hope
of something loving, real,
waiting
for me

with open arms
primed with pacts and promises
that I thought meant

everything

but things change -
maybe not the love or connection
but the faith that good things
are coming

I get that
and see how my inability to speak
may have been a push that sent
this most precious thing that was
fighting, really fighting for me to see
straight into another's arms
because theirs went numb
waiting to for me to jump
while I repelled down the side in silence
petrified of all I ever wanted

because my lips were busy
shaking like my fingers
that forgot how to
hold things

ineptineptinept
not worthy
not good
enough
for him

nor was the stupid poetry
I kept trying to make perfect
because that's what I thought
he deserved

when my anything
would have been good
just a few words, like:
I did it
I'm a mess
I need you more than anything,
but right now I
just. can't.
read or speak
free

it's terrible how horribly effective
false advertising is when it's repeated
over and over and over, you know -
take ******, maniacal diabolical murderous despot that he was, was also a true evil genius of advertising -
you make the lie big, simple,
keep repeating it, and eventually,
they believe it

even when you know
it's all ******* and it's bad for ya,
it still gets in, writing on your psyche
and part of you believes somewhere
underneath the logical know
and defeated flippant eye-rolls
that maybe you are
a stupid ******* ****
a ***** *****
fat and old and ugly
that no one else would ever
want you

and that you
- deserved -
every last terrible thing
inflicted upon you in venom

the other night,
I dreamed

of walls

bre   a k
in
  g

down

your grey ghost
gone live

and tsunami relief
washed my being -
held-heart breath,
inhaling deeply

then I
woke, promptly
finding myself alone
roused by TS Emily
at five in the morning

intestinal churn
as rains whipped my window
and I digested it was
not real

but the what-ifling
tapped my still tingling
with essence of other
and I thought, maybe...

so I,
reluctantly,
looked for you
in the sea where
I lost you
and you

were there

...

when dreams
start speaking ether,
underscoring reality,
I start remembering
how I know:

buried wires exist,
decorroding

attuning to united
stately R3EM station
with equilateral antennae

do you think we could put aside the internal asides prattling past rapture gone rupture, table or under the table throw those scraps to the dog that's pawing in favor of what's under our noses, on the plate facing up at us smiling a reflection in a circle of ceramic glaze gazing past the imperfect ramifications crystallized in those times and bones that still do bind and also occasionally chafe when they chime, the fragmented fancies that danced behind eyelids then knocked back the whites taking unglued precedence while neurons sat back and just watched momentum pulse, so stunned to find where you stopped there I started, and the only push-pull was helixical orb tossed on linguistic winks kinking our forever-tied lines that plead underneath the jilted to stop slanty-eyeballing the looking glass crass, affixing shark fangs where one once only saw wings, though truth be told, I have both of those things, but drain you, I won't, and feed you, I will, leaving marked memoirs of my work, but it'll be your fault, really, evoking the majestic while summoning the animal that reminds me why I'm knees-grateful to be a woman

?

sinks
leaching into
my hollows

immobilized maybes
orbit the shatter
of our halos

until
it doesn't

and light shrapnel
starts accreting

life is a video game
we are characters
there are levels
things to beat
to move up

we’re all 3D
when really real is all
4 - 11 D (+)

there are hacks
to level up, my loves
(as far as I can tell in
moments that trump
my everyday numb):

see your patterns
own your ****, traumas
choose love
over all

and make better
different choices

in the face
of torment taunting

then the
record skips
and you find yourself

in a new
orbit

ya, ya, i know
there is a King Koopa mf
at the end, but like
by that time

we will be
stronger

and not
alone

don't ever forget
to drop to your knees

and be

grateful
for opportunity
lowered by winged white
into laps lonesome

this chance
this life

yes, free will
is yours as well
but, these moments
the not-so-subtle nudges
and the whispers that surf the wind
after it stands still for - so - long

don't forget
to be grateful
for that

could-be bestowed upon us
marked, holy

we are pocket blooms
of clover fields
lucky

the fates toil not
this hard
unless

sacrosanct potential brims
not just for us - but, to share

there will be so much
it will overflow out of us
and we will laugh, humbly
at scarcity-fraught mentalities

so, thank you
for being exactly who
you are:

beautiful boy
with tarnished halo

(no worries though -
I will lick it till it spit-shines
and polish on my gold-flecked fleece)

and your basketcase
of trinkets blathering
contents crooked
and bizarre

(BTW, I still loves them)

if you were not, precisely
these psyche spatters
and glitch patterns

you would not
have given me
a second glance...

we will make picnics
out of our spastic baskets
finding we can dine on the grist
and feed the eyes
of our hearts

so, I say yes to us -
no matter what
we are:

friends, editors, syntactic twins,
long-distance synaptic co-captains,
creative cohorts rapping across easels,
and perhaps even, angelic mirrors
worshipping at bioluminescent altars,
getting minds, hearts, insides glown
w  i  d  e open by white splatter streaks
blowing phosphor all over this space

that definitely exists
in us

...

I'm cool with whatever
though

:)

you can't
erase the tries
outside the lines

but you can
paint over them

to get laid
like, a lot

I just can't...

until I find someone
who can whet my heart

because the letdown
when it's not

I can't wash away
the disappointment

in space
behind your ribbed cage
and if your captive heart beats
like it might
combust

salt slunk
knees hugged
churning fraught
under weighted ribs
and a flickering yellow lamp
locked in this static hallway
between waiting rooms

you were
the biggest folder
in my Evernote
labeled Prolix Ranter

because I got sick
of scrolling your ****
and wanted precise
dosages

I deleted it
then swallowed
my tongue
and for so long

no words would come

then you trickled in
iridescent thought bubbles
with minds and time
all their own

I don't know
how to pop them

but they sure as ****
know how to find me

and make my fingers
crave

the pen

the scars
and errors

is your name
singed
white

branded by
corona flares

sacred silence eats
arisen shine for breakfast
manifest-side up

if this whinging heart
is mine, yours or
ours

but it
sure-as-****
has a mind

of its (our)
own

My Abandonment Issues cordially invite your Abandonment Issues to usurp their lack-of-****-togetherness with a fusion of festivities!

What: A.I. Fusion Fest
Where: Sunny Padded Land
When: Now - You Can Never Leave

Activities Include:

- Acro Yoga
- Tandem Biking
- Graffiti Affirmation Wall
- Cuddle Puddle Grotto
- Synchronized Trust-Falls
- Sock Puppet Heart-to-Hearts
- Fear Archery w/ Custom Targets

Don’t miss the main event!

Three-Legged Race

Utilizing all the greatest affixing technologies (including, but not limited to: rope, Duct Tape, Super Glue, Gorilla Glue, wet cement, bungees, resistance bands and all variety of *******), the race will begin by the Fountain of Unknowns, ascend over Mount Paranoiac and finish down in the Valley of Chillax AF, where there will be infinite punch and pie.

No need to RSVP. You’re coming.

:)

between my writhe
venerating milk
whole

if my writing is getting worse
or if I’m just trying less
to make it good

either way, it’s OK
it doesn’t need to be
anything

other than

smoke signs for other
caged reflections to breathe
transitory fragments branding screen
that felt fleeting happened indeed

and for a moment
this was me

your presence
is the biggest gift
you have to give

to anyone
ever

including
you

it's weird how
you're not here

yet I feel you
- still -

reverbs tingling
post-disengage

like you always
******* do

I know
that you don’t

and you know
that I don’t

and I know
that you don’t
know I know

and prolly
vice versa

that make
all the things

kinda more
understandable

all I can say is
this karmic rubber band
is tighter than a *****

and I’m not
the only one

that’s clueless
with red welts

the night before
the moon grew bold

I felt the darkness
move in from above
in ominous grey
opaque

it reached for me
half asleep, I
acquiesced

relinquished
pillowy clutch
splayed sheets
like legs

for his
chatter bones to chill
where my sallow
is tissue thin

his hail knuckles
affixed to wet tongue
drug me to the floor
raking my hollows
over and over

reeling terrors
on sepia filmstrip
some scenes repeating
some to-fro rewound forward
some hovered gory ending:

frigid tools cutting
to expose my insides
stirring entrail with bone
tugging ruddy strings
to see what sounds
they made as I
buckled; choked
on my leaks

I closed my eyes
tried to escape body
but he projected on
my shuttered
darting

knotting esophagus
around the backbone
fingerpainting my end
on worn flesh walls
in char-red spectrum
choreographed in
perfect harmony
with rote fear
chanting

this is how
you die -

alone

I felt it all
happening.

dangling my happy
memoirs with nooses
ungraceful reanimating
decayed draggy dancing
Xs where bright eyes
were once upon
and wide

open

every ache and
smothered secret
chirped by dark faeries
too quick to swat

but when all
the pushed down
were given mallets
they crescendoed
into discordant jarring
and in its peak came
a piercing shriek:

so loud -

all stilled
to look around

I couldn’t tell
if the voice
was him
or me

but after terror climaxed
the hear ripped and
grip released

I allowed myself
to loosen, breathe
headthrob slowly
melded into felt
beats:

limbs and tips
all pulsing
relief

and I
could see
no one was there

but me.

wielding expertly
book in my own hand
thick with tested maps

to exquisitely torture
every tenuous strand
in my fragility