smoking is bad*
preaches the teacher
as he bites his nails
in anticipation
of his next
cigarette.

sometimes i feel like i spend
too much time creating
beautiful things
to be beautiful
myself
even if i'm
wasting away
in front of the computer --
-- as my mother likes to say
i'll never be wasted enough
to be considered
a tragic beauty
and the regular kind
is lost on me.

i can start every sentence with
if i were beautiful . . .
and i still won't be

but if i write enough poetry
at least i'll have something beautiful
to show for myself.

The Red Leaves Quivered;
Slowly They Began To Die,
In The Changing Breeze

A Crimson Heart Hurt,
In A Wind No Longer Warm;
It No Longer Kind

A Raven Had Called,
Sobbing In A Dying Tree;
The Sun Was Setting

A Full Moon Had Rose,
But The Wolf No Longer Sang,
For She Had No Song

Frost Covered The Earth,
Slowly The Crimpson Faded;
The World All But Ice

*Sydney

You wake up early already feeling an itch behind your eyes and at the base of your spine.
behind your throat. Sweating but **** - it's November and you had the window open. Four cups of coffee and seven cigarettes to start the day. A tip: if you put your hands in your pockets then nobody can see them shaking.
"You look hungry. Eat something."
force down a McMuffin or two at noon and a ham sandwich before work. Drive the car.
that night work is noise.  The shift ends with a paycheck.
Go withdraw thirty bucks. Find some *****.
"A guy's gotta cut loose."
a guy's gotta be cut off.
***** this ***** that
twisted up so tight. wound around the bend. coffee and the dashboard lights. Radiation.
three AM fumbling with the keys - alone under a street light at the bus stop
wake up to the tv playing infomercials. Shower. Now repeat.

Burned my last box of food
Burned black by solitude
Fortitude is as famous as me
Pity, that was my last goodbye
Lie or tell the truth
Give me some kind of proof
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
I played with fire
I played with trust.

A place on the periphery
outside edge
sharpen with her stare
Could I ever make her care?
Covered in roses
Intricate poses

I took out all the thorns
threw them at you
blood battered
fried and hot  
taking what is due.
I never meant to love you
I never meant to stop and start

We never meant to part.

I want your toxic,
talk sick, baby.

Our bodies collide, intertwining,
enveloped in adoration,  sprinkled with lust,
and so much more.

I am so ready to feel your sweet, enticing lips
talk candy in my ear.

I want your hands on my hips, your face in my neck.
I need to feel you close. I want to feel your heartbeat in my chest.

I want your sultry voice to swim through my ears,
and to feel your warmth, in my bed, no need for blankets.

Most of all, I want you mine. always.  to have and to hold.
To whisper the violent thoughts and feelings away.
To kiss me, sweetly, and mean it.

I love you.


And I want to know if you're in love with me.

Madeline had visions of you falling down the stairs this afternoon. She was sipping her coffee and reading a scrap of paper that had materialized on her table from some article about a meteor somewhere and it hit her like a ton of feathers or a ton of bricks.

Doesn't really matter which.

She gasped back into the present and fell out of her chair spilling the tar-black grog she had been pawing at to the oaken hardwood and sat staring at her hands there for a minute or more.

They were pink against the tan-ish floor.

Pushing against it she regained her footing and reached for the home phone her friends chided her for owning and called me crying you won't believe what I just saw I can't believe what I just saw I think we need to call her do you think she's alright?

I had just gotten off my flight.

I don't know I said I don't know who you mean where are you are you alright I just got back into town I was going to grab my bags and catch a taxi do you need me to pick you up

She finally noticed the fallen cup.

Catching her breath he slowed her pace and started to stammer how she didn't know it didn't matter never mind I need to go and make a call I'll let you know when I get out.

I still had no idea what she was talking about.

She hung up the phone and placed another call after a half hour no six hours no six weeks of ringing someone picked up the line she had dialed and she wept and laughed and asked if everything was okay and if she needed to go and if so how far she was a primed cartridge in a loaded gun

Everything was silent and the room spun

A voice replied something inaudible and Madeline laughed and cried not cried and laughed and wondered how she could have been so rash to believe a daydream like this

She rose and gathered all her bits

And together they walked her down the hall from her sun room to the kitchen down the stairwell-

And she fell.

And for two point five one two three seconds everything stood still but her and the world stopped turning she couldn't hear her own gasp or whether she screamed or laughed or cried she just hung in the balance she hung from gods fingers she hung above a pool of sharks and a pit of lava and everything she had never done she fell far and fast and hit the ground

An no one knows whether that made a sound.