A few poems...

tic-toc


If I could only steal some time, some unquestioned, no explanation time to disappear, WRITE myself straight off the page.

To drink wine and, loose track, smoke and get high
To fuck on dirty mattress's in seedy hotel rooms where no one cares
if you come or go.

to write and drink, and fuck and love and eat Chinese food at 3am,
and puke it all up again.

If only i could shed this skin, peel it away from me and cast it off,
to run and hide
to kiss long and hard and watch him write and go mad and sleep and love

to see me through HIS eyes

if only i could find the time to steal it back again to not wish it away, to stop begging for tomorrow and forget about yesterday

there i would find ME staring back from the lonely place

there...i would just be





YOU

I hope this doesn't seem crazy to you, i don't think it would, i think you, you would understand the scratch, scratch, scratching that goes on inside the prison of my mind

i think you could understand the noise
though my eyes are so tired now and they fight me with every word my brain won't quiet and even the shadows in my room breath tonight

i'm not crazy, no
therapy yes, crazy no, not so much anyway

I do it all i am ordinary walking through the street
I cook, and i clean, i do dance classes and recitals and playgroups and football and college visits and girls scouts and cub scouts, i even do small talk
I knit scarves for my kids and fuck my husband like a porn star
but in the quiet hours, in the silence of the room when the chaos has gone to bed

the scratching and the words these beautiful words that paint pictures with every breath
well, they won't let me sleep and so I thought
I would write you, because you might
Understand






Meditations

in the quiet now
and the soft warmth of false falsehoods the floodlights switch on to illuminate the raw misgivings of a childhood never had

quiet now
this body lay so longing evermore for something to ignite the embers that linger
choked there,
in the ash and nub of yesterdays had, and tomorrows that never come

calloused minds and suffocating to do's that dull me to the very core

acid driven days of illuminated colors,
to touch the hand of God, Allah, Mohamed, Buddha and feel that universal oneness

clouded thoughts that fill my lungs like glue making it impossible to suck the life out of the air
the dulled and deadened that lurk in the days filled with glassy eyed misconceptions
never really see if seen at all

the poet with the wide eyed grin and clit like mind rising with the X-stacy of this fuck...lost to it now in the moment of swirling thought that strokes at my brain as if to bring me full and ready
alert
and
waiting