rubber feelingand you...rubber feeling by breathingglassstars
succubus tongue, thistle jaw,
you break teeth
in, lashes straight rods
fanning outward, forehead drawing
lines to match mine.
gazing, looking for the answer
to whether you feel me
between your lungs somewhere.
i want to grow big in that warm glow
you splash from your pupils
but my eyes grow dim, distant,
paling, bothered by shade, small,
wishing for enough space inside my
cavern walls, wet caves, bat-filled.
the ghosts of another's fingers crest
the notches of your backbone still--
she's here, even when i prove i'm here.
i'm here, begging "look in me"
and find exactly what you're fishing
for; battered girl on tile floor,
imagined bleach stains,
pale blood eyes and damp smell.
you will discover me soon,
understand behind wide-eyed
tenderness i am
weepy, crooked, desperate
for a thing called "love"--
that limp word i carried
in summer like a dead carcass
in my arms--
back before i knew your name.
old oak eyes
before a ne
backwardswe're back in delicate city drinking raspberry lattes like it's summer and nothing ever happened. your mother let you come outside to smell the yellow-colored roses in shop windows and reflect over the glazed smell of baking in the morning. she doesn't know i'm here. we sit on benches and chain smoke virginia slims like pastors' wives.backwards by breathingglassstars
"where've you been?" i ask you.
"busy, i guess. hardly seeing anyone. but look, i'm progressing. i want you to know that."
raspberry, sticky-sweet, drips down our throats. it's been forever, lifetimes almost, since you first turned on me, tried hitting me like i was the reason you were suffering. the flash of your red-flamed face looms in memory. my heartbeats run faster.
"what did they do to you?"
"gave me lots of sedatives. took me into rooms when i got too riled up about something. calmed me down by zonking me out into this half-sleeping state all the time. it worked, i guess. i don't feel so much anymore. nothing gets through. but look, look, i am...
coals die downquite mysterious, i'mcoals die down by breathingglassstars
suddenly driven mad by
the harsh lines of your brow bone
and the shelf of your collarbone.
on wednesdays, i wake up
over you like dead water
sticky with mosquitoes on those
moonless nights when we're
conscious of penetrating darkness,
when our whispers mix and we're
forced into oblivion selected
by celestial cycles. sleep.
so i wander to your eyelids
and let my gaze sweep like full-moon
hands and fall back asleep, lifted
up by the drawing of your breath.
i am growing oldfinding sequences of afternoons where i'mi am growing old by breathingglassstars
fumbling around in a dark gray room
trying to uncover pathways never
opened in me, grown from patches
of organic cells to give me home,
let other people waste me away on
summer sunday, 3 p.m. when nothing's happening.
i try to explore cavities, opening
myself up for light to burn and allow
nostalgia to weep from empty wounds
almost like tears or rain.
and then all the pieces of me
will evaporate cleanly like freckles
lifted from skin after winter shows.
i peel myself from cold tiles
covered in daisies, i remind myself
of the way bodies should work
like machines in the nighttime
and docile animals in the morning
when the sun won't stop for anyone.
we don't remember the passage
of time as each second wastes,
forgotten, another moment gone
as it blooms inside my head and dies,
this action, this moment before the dark
with lights carelessly going out,
has meaning only to me, for
moments leave me powerless, whimpering
union st. clarethere were too many people at the showunion st. clare by ssleep
for the size of the venue it was in
and i didn't know most of them,
but they weren't important so it didn't matter
how can i explain it
when you walked into the room i think
everyone could tell anyway
because fuck me if i didn't prop myself against
that thin plaster wall and try to look like
i wasn't not not expecting it
or like it didn't matter to me either way
everything was loud, and the freshmen were playing
80's hair metal covers but it didn't even matter
because i was looking at you and you were looking at me
but not at the same times and i'm
not a fan of change,
but i fell for the you that you are now
and i'll fall for the you that you'll be next year,
i'm not even trying anymore
because your eyes do have a color, they're brown,
and how can i tell you that, how can i make you
that so much time went by but i'm
just finding out about this
and when you're standing close enough
that i could touch the back of your
Papaya WhipPapaya whip-Papaya Whip by vespera
ghost of the fruit
milking itself through
cream and froth; the soft
hint of a voice
through the wall, a neighbor
soothing the baby-
the moment sweet
on the tongue, almost
slides down the throat
tender and mild across skin
ripens the tree
terminali.terminal by glossolalias
we landed in oklahoma
and drank cheap martinis in the terminal;
you carried my guitar and fell in love
with my voice but not my tongue,
not my hands.
there's a man with a garage
that looks like a plane because nothing
meant more to him. will you make a model
of that bar? will you make a model
of my red cheeks? or will you live in a townhome
with her and three children?
the problem was you're not gay.
the problem was there was feeling
but it wasn't for us. i had you but
it wasn't for us.
i'm not sure if i resent you,
but i remember that bar and every pockmark
on the stool you sat on while i played
the song that parted your lips;
you remember every pockmark in oklahoma
like they were ours.