i've been through nuclear winter
wishing to vanish, believe me -
wanting to let it consume me -
and no one suspected a thing

i've stifled every bone tremor
and denied every visitor
for nothing. a slow kind of death
with lucky days sewn into it

fragments of time are dissolving
every hour inside my head
leaving only outlines in dust
leaving all the damages done

the evil's been born already
across cold water, luminous
all of its wounds on the surface
all of its scars in their glory

my net worth is three sheets
of crumpled paper and
an empty shot glass.
i am not pretending to be
anything refined, sophisticated,
worth your time.  

i’ve ruined the best things in my life
without even realizing it, absence the
only clue; there was no bother to tell me.
i am left with flaws but i am not sure
what they are because I’m too
much of a liability to be told.

there are empty matchboxes strewn
all upon my cluttered mattress
with holes burnt into it.
i have a tin lunch box full of
dead lighters; six years worth.
i never throw them away.
my bad habits exist in
every flameless flick.

will you increase my net worth
by leaving a pack of Marlboros in
my mailbox? i might not be deserving
of an explanation, but it would be
a nice peace offering. if you add
a lighter to the mix, i’ll make sure
the amethyst fades and you
no longer dream of me.

fingers flirt with the flames
of a feeling I don’t understand.
lighter fluid coats my hand and
I don’t bother to wash it off.
tears begin when my parents yell
because twenty years of
abuse, alcohol, and neglected anxiety
takes its toll on the adult mind.
‘i’m over it,’ i say as i drink
my second beer of the day
at nine in the morning.
i light a cigarette and
catch on fire and hope
my parents forgive me enough
to realize not everything is my fault.