Face it,
I'm a follow up.
To use all this time and quickly cast aside?
Honey, I'm not so simple to avoid.
I'll make sure
to close up for you one day.

Because by then,
I would have known
how the words I spat at them
would seep through their ears
and down their spinal cord
and somehow, eventually
reach their heart
where its poison would slowly **** them

Because by then,
I would have known
how much they try
even if
they have had ***
they did not believe in god
they lost hope in humanity
they were not democrats

Because by then,
I would have known
how it takes every ******* muscle in their tired bodies
to not bring out a gun in a room full of people
they saw at school every day
or how they would rather
let their anxiety or depression
take them away

Because by then,
I would have known
how I was not the only one working
or trying to love
when the reason they had lost all hope
in that meaningless world
in the first place
was me

Because by then,
I would have known
that I cannot
expect somebody
to love me
when I myself am
unable to love
them

These days
I am too cold
My palms are at rest
Down for the long winter
My coordination and
dexterity will hibernate
And I'll cloak this poor body
With anything I can

An almost married woman
Clings to the hems of my sleeves
With thin fingers
With scissors
There to cut away the warm wool
With wild eyes
and a bitter mouth

She gathers my coat in a basket
Unravels all the careworn fibers
To cast upon her empty loom
As though she'd spun them

Casts off newly sewn kisses
Threadbare affection
Muttering crossly about the weather
And how the sun
does not melt the snow

She is only my friend when
She can touch my bare wrists
Give me white hot iron to hold
And ask me if I'm warmer

Only my friend when
She can graze my skin in surprise
Wrap my hands up with stiff yarn
And ask me what burned them

I am my tears.
And i am my sweat
I am my pain and i am my regret

But i'm also the choice to say no to it all
To the hurt you have caused me and the choice not to fall.
Because had i had known you would treat me like this,
disgusted and guilty but worthy to kiss,
i would never have touched you or spoken your name,
sat by the fire and feel your love flame,
because you are a simple man
and you have simple desires,
you want what you don't have

and will do all that requires,

and once you have reached that.

The goal that you seek,


you look on to the next thing that looks bright and unique.

13 years, so many jobs
so many names you half forgot
got caught and collected
                    at the corner of your mouth.

Outside, it's one more night,
one more stitch in this rag doll year
and you can still hear the way she'd
                    try to talk while laughing
any given Sunday night.

Might be you half forgot.
Might be the roaring years
drowned out the hum of their names
in your ears
              earned your stripes, now wear 'em well
spell out your name in snow, then
go lay down in the bed you made.

Outside, it's lights and noise
and visible breath
footbeats on sidewalks,
forgotten names with smokers' coughs
all caught in the roaring tides of
                                                the time.
But it's blood clots inside;
a parenthesized appositive
                      redefining what you lost.

In the clot, one sunk to the silt,
                  to the dregs.
In here, your living room
               is outside the parenthesis,
closed out of the open air.
Spare change beneath the lamp
strangely mocking outside lights,
                 glinting bright,
                    but silent.
                       Inert.

And, just outside,
          those city lights
they flash for others;
those with jobs and funds,
          with lovers,
with smiles still left
                         in the tank.
Not fake ones constructed
by nights getting ****** up
or upended frowns painting
clown faces all pasty--
                 you'll get out.

                You'll make it back;
              black clouds blow past
       and the tide runs out fast. And--
                           lastly?--
    You're made of better stuff than that.