there's this constant buzzing in my head. perhaps I'm a hornet's nest?

all that's left of my right frontal lobe
is a blown speaker
shorted circuit
and seven pounds of dynamite,
judging by the weight of it.

bones rattle, lips crack
and nothing comes out.

trying to form a sentence
is an exercise in precision and patience

finding

each

word

and

trying

to
keep

some
form

of

order

to

the

whole

mess.

but maybe it's for the best.


you see, I've seen myself running at full capacity.

and I'm not sure the world will ever be ready for that.

it's funny

I'm not sure how it happened
but somewhere along the line
someone convinced her
that if she doesn't SAY
why she's
so
upset

then no one will know
that there's
anything
wrong
at all.


I play along.

after all
nothing is more traumatizing
than telling a child
that no matter how hard they try
they

can

never

fly

I've heard that Death wears a mask of something familiar

I had that dream again.

the one where I'm just lying with you
my head in your lap.
you push my hair back and try to speak
but the words stick in your throat
like wisps of angora, too soft for this world
and too quick to abandon you with the first breeze.
because we both know what this really is.

something terrible is coming
it won't touch you.
it doesn't want you.
but you can't stop it.
and you know
it's coming
for me.

I lie there in silence
hoping maybe,
-just this once-
just for a moment...

but the lights are getting brighter.
I close my eyes
focusing on your fingers,
settled in my hair, twirling idly,
and your angora voice shakes
when you tell me to run.

I know it won't help.
I've run all those other times.
when I run it gets dark and cold
and you're not there.
I tell you I'm done running.


You chuckle softly and squeeze my hand.
"You don't have choice. You have to go."
I turn to see your face
the light is blinding now, and burning hot
a thousand spotlights
and a million eyes
burning holes in our paper flesh
but I can make out a faint smile.
"You need to go up for air."

The light burns out
and the weight on my chest is crushing
everything is slow and painful
and when I finally catch my breath
I'm awake
and you're not there.

We Were Skeletons Once

we should have died years ago
in a gunfight at dawn in some dusty town
with our mouths full of blood
and our hearts full of bats and vengeance and rage

the doctors poked and the nurses prodded
and the devil squeezed our throats as we slept
but we never stopping moving
until there was nothing left but the bones of our ghosts
and a single, throbbing pulse
hundred thousand hearts beating in time
a call to arms
a corps of drums

it was dark, but I could hear you smiling
when you looked back fondly on the time we spent together
holding hands with the dead, ever marching forward
through fire and dirt and cold
it seemed like forever, and maybe it was.


I'm still not sure how we made it
or why I'm not dead
but when the doctors gave up
and the Devil wouldn't take us
I guess our bad luck ran out, because here we are:
children made of neon spraypaint,
rusted old muscle cars,
and rock and roll.

I guess we'll just keep running.

Paint the town. Then blow a hole in it.

The sun hasn't gone down in weeks
and we haven't stopped moving in years
eat sand. spit lasers.
can't trust the water
can't trust a smile
your hair is singed and full of broken glass
twisted metal, bits of shrapnel stuck in my boot
every footstep is a chorus of angry noise



Get in the car. We've got miles to cover before we can sleep.

revolving doors

"He doesn't live here anymore," or so I'm told.

but he's still sitting on the couch, in the next room

"We're changing the locks," they tell me,

But I can hear him on the stairs

and I can tell he's just left the room

because no one else leaves a trail of lights and televisions left on behind them quite like him.

"Lock the deadbolt."

It's like Guantanamo

but more indecisive

3:48AM

Cracked lips mutter harsh words
The bile keeps rising
The music skips
If only we could sleep, just for a little while
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much