santa carla revisited

SLAM!
right into the wall behind me
your letter cracked the tar and brick
and leaked words into a puddle
dripping like black hole pores
you are still there
meddling in my tear ducts
watering down the concrete
i used to construct myself
and fucking with the pipes
tearing down the rooftops while i
sleep and smear raindrops across my face
you are always surrounded by a bay of
doubt but sure enough
the current is one tough bitch
and your smile reminds me
of seaweed between my fingertips
[i think i spoke that once]
you injected colour into
my poloroid form
rudely bringing out the green
when i insisted it wasn't necessary
and smearing your faithful
"you say this you do that" bullshit
all over my angora carpet

well i've missed you,
you cocksucker piece of shit.

until.

you left in a wave of soil
scattering doubt & salt
beneath the roots on my Gethsemane
turning the green to gray
the action of
pushing stalks against the
surface of ground
drains my fingertips of warmth

feverishly i strive
for indifference
but will you ever call again?

spiders & inquiries
scamper up & down my spine
& creep over my shoulders
sinewy legs brush my cheek & my
mouth then traces the shape of
your name in the dry, dry air

a saline taste haunts my teeth
& stray curls are still nestled
between my floorboards
hiding from my temporary distain

like an April bird to a
familiar nest-Home
i will return to you
bearing the fruits of my forgiveness
in exchange only for a new found
honesty
which will this time
lower itself
gently
against my ears

nor are we.

the sounds from my speakers
echo the ongoing struggle of Moving On

i knew the casulties would understand
i imagine how their mouths would twist

baring their teeth
into the classic sneer

at the false
sincerity i have witnessed

i have to now learn to speak with
the utmost sarcasm when i turn to

him and say in a tin can voice
your opinion matters to

me and while you're at it
get your clothing out of my sight

because your memories aren't welcome
here anymore

i have so much for him to take
gently into his splintered hands

in the way of things i feel which he
should bear witness to but the absence

of his company is more of him
right now than i can take

morning on monroe street

the insistant chirps from
morningbirds chisel veins
through my bedroom glass
overcome only by an exhausted
train bellowing its arrival

monroe street, don't
you know

a borrowed beat of a heart
and belt, and socks
still covered with your hair
take the cake for
my Most Prized Possessions

banging on the floor now
because 8:40 is too early for
children
this 'bad' neighbourhood
in the 'questionable' part of
town is cozier than Hilton
could ever fathom
to one
[like myself]
who has slumbered upon
wooden panels and waif-thin
sheets
i have no double vision
left over from the prior eve
just a slow, steady
headache and the luxury of
stretching my limbs out on
Someone Else's mattress as wide
as i please and falling asleep
beneath all of the covers

solitude has its perks, baby
today
waking up next to myself
was bliss
in a subsidised wonderland
spotted with tiny square gardens
overpriced cars & peeling
rotten
paint
i write & i smile
& realise i am in no hurry to leave
so i play the saint & stand
purely against the reflection of
a sea of rusty trucks & dead leaves

my skin is smooth & my hair, tired
as it sulks back, is contained in a ponytail
i snake his belt around my hips
not missing a single loop
and step out today before i
lose myself in the thought

or nearly so

remember
that day?

you promised yourself to me, i think
[in an autumn breeze]
[in my tempest of a bed]
[in the front seats of your car]

& said
"forever"

my reply:
"or nearly
so"

i prayed so hard my fingers
turned to sandpaper
that i would never tell you

i told you
so

time turned to dust
between my clasped hands

i told you
so

you left your shirt here you know
I pretend to push back curtains
into a play
for a theatre which engulfs this
respectably gaudy house

and that you mean for your character
to come back for it---
holding me in the process

because my eyes burn bright red
and crack with the giveaway puffy misery
of something.
gone.

i never acquired your taste for chemicals
but if only the sporadic curly
remnants of a haircut
didn't give me such a high

& the leftover woodchip smell
of your clothes didn't calm my nerves

i can't trick myself into thinking you that you're here
because
every movement made with your shoulders

i can recall

drinking too little
to be able to call you and say
iwanttospendtherestofmylifewithyou

in my intoxicated world
life is going to be perfect
your daughter will be a hero
and I shall hold your hand backstage
while she lights up the earth in the Performance of Living

the Performance
which will linger in both our eyes.

& exchange air through our lips.

& intertwine our fingers.

note

i hurt someone today.
this is for them.

karma bit me quick this time.
i instantly regretted my
stupidity.

[and believe me, it was bad]

now i am

leaving.

and this goodbye is for you.