Banana Peel

When’s the last time

You could be honest &

odd with someone

& trust them to keep adoring you?

That is love, darling

the kind that hollows you out when it slips quietly out the back door

*

I still cradle that curse you scribbled on yellow paper. This is not a love poem. I hope you suffer. I hope your longing consumes you. I pushed darkness into my eyes. You wagged your tongue at me from the shadows. You wanted more pain than I could give, but I think I gave more than most. Lennon’s warm gun is happiness against my cheek, to think that someone once loved me enough to hex me.

*

There is a banana peel that waits for you

Every time she catches your eye

& if you slip on it

It probably won’t kill you

But it might

Purebred Monster

I slipped upon your holy spunk

spilled the lamb’s blood

split my lip

lick the caverns of my wrists

know me, know me, know me

Don’t come any closer

*

God, can I be saved?

Some days, my depravity feels like a millstone around my neck

& I am tossed into the sea

*

Do you see me down by the cliffs?

carrying what used to be a man in my jaws,

sometimes I am all claws & fists

but I am not a purebred monster

How To Be Quixotic

We were just kids waiting to grow older

& then we were older

& asking

“How the fuck did we get here?”

I put sheets over every mirror, for sometimes darklings crawl out of our reflections. And he is an ancient thing.

*

They say every heartbreak is a teacher

Then why is it, I still know nothing?

Why, just today, I found out a Daisy Chain doesn’t always mean weaving a crown of flowers

*

He puts down his book, on How To Be Quixotic, for it is wiser to fight imaginary things. Better to charge a mindmill than go sword to sword with the Aristocracy. He peers over his glasses. Now there is a girl, who wanders aimlessly, looking for a lick of melancholy. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asks

“I’m going into the woods to kick my own ass.”

But I, too, am spinning in the wind. Formed from sand and make-believe.

*

Cyber Scapel

There was a wild thing growing inside his mind. The doctor polished his cyber scapel. For a moment, my vanity slipped away. I could only think of earthquakes, birds, and snakes, and aeroplanes crashing into towers.

God stood in the doorway, head bowed, as if whispering a prayer to himself. The needle fell upon the Sound of Silence, and when he raised his face, his eyes were black. Or maybe that is just the color of sadness. God, is that really you? It is hard to tell, with all the billionaires cosplaying at Divinity.

The young foolishly believe they know misery. Wait until everything around you dies. Time does a piss poor job of healing wounds, but is rather proficient at tearing open new ones. We stack scars upon scars until there is nothing left for us except to become dirt.

God, I have grown so weary of suffering. This hole keeps widening. The prophets are all nihilists.

When will you strike me with lightning?

Gingerbread

They made a cemetery

from your ribcage

& I am a river in Egypt

You can sink your crooked spine into

*

In war, you said the opposing team shot off the top of your skull, and with it went all of your mind. Somewhere, your joy is spinning silver on some old woman’s loom.

*

And we sit cross-legged in front of the yellow house, breaking off pieces, breaking our teeth, pretending the stucco is gingerbread, and the oven is on pre-heat.

*

The politician with the toothbrush mustache was relentless. It wasn’t the witch who pushed you into the fire, was it, Gretel? Bread was too scarce to build trails. Go outside and stare up at the constellations, see if the Devil hung another star. That means they’re coming for you.

*

I told my dog I murdered Hitler

& the beautiful thing was

He believed it

Psychopomp

There is a dullness that exists

in between heartbreaks

Have you howled into the woods

only to hear the echo

of your own loneliness?

We go there to lose ourselves

but its never deep enough

There is a crow that waits for me

shimmering

like an irridescent psychopomp

but he is only a ruse to fashion me

for darkness

& when the dust settles

You can brush me off

But perhaps I’ll be the dirt

They bury you in

*

He dips the feather into ink; he says it used to belong to an angel, before they were disgraced. Sometimes God forgives, and sometimes he breaks your neck. Do you love fire more than rain?

*

We were swinging

from an olive branch

& dusted in silver like Judas

licking our wrists where our wounds should be

There is nothing as exhilarating as a good poem

& a holy shit

waiting for the punchline

In my mind, I’ve been kissed before

I’ve been swallowed

I begged you to walk around inside my head

& then afterwards I opened up a window

& jumped

*

I asked you, did you know you are in the cemetery, darling?

& you looked at me, as if waiting for the punchline

behind us, we can hear the willow weep

if Ophelia were real

You wake up

shake chimera from your hair

You scrape the slime off your tongue

You match your mood to your underwear

You paint your lips in desire

& line your eyes in despair

*

But there is no real reason for shaving

or smiling at your reflection

*

You walk the dog

You throw prose into oncoming traffic

everyone veers

*

Except for the one that picks up a wild metaphor, it penetrates the empty space inside his ribcage like a rusty nail. And you whisper into the wind: “Don’t be a stranger anymore.” But not everyone can love the beauty of your ruin.

*

You stop at the neighbor’s house

to eat their daiseys

Don’t let anyone tell you that you are mad

because you have songs to sing

*

Tonight you will go home

Lie down in your polyester silk

cross your arms over your breasts

& pretend you are floating

You are Ophelia, if Ophelia were real

bloated & soiled & reaking

& nibbled down

to the bone

greedy fly

Morning found us wanting

darkness still

Sunset clung to our skin like sweat

& I pretend I am formed from gold & silk

I don’t want to be real

Reality ruins everything

Like your dreamlike murmur

“This isn’t love

but I really like your ass.”

*

I am doomed to choke

on all the dismembered parts of you

You land like a greedy fly

You want to devour all my bullshit

But I don’t think you know what’s coming

*

I would like to walk out of this room

on fire

hanging from the ceiling

with my sticky feet

Neon Halo

We are all starving

for something we know not

The juice from your strange fruit

stained my lips

with loneliness

The thing that can make you as insane as love

& I promise you I’m beautiful on the inside

If you don’t mind a little grime

*

Ruin stood on the street corner in her faux leather, her halo buzzing like a roadside motel’s neon sign. She knew she didn’t have a remarkable face, but she transformed into something exquisite when she danced. Swaying like a seductress, she blew kisses at the passing cars, her tenderness splattering against their windshields like lovesick bugs. For many of those strangers, it was the most affection they had ever received.

*

This is the place where we used to tear out pieces of ourselves

& throw it into oncoming traffic

Don’t weep for me, love

I am dead & will never know