"she's dizzy again." they whisper through clenched teeth,
and i hear them, i've always heard them, i just keep pretending
not to notice the darting glances, their blinking concern

one time, i tried, explaining through intervals of scratching,
of coughing up blood and hugging my ribs, i told them,

"he and i are now a desensititized mass of beginnings and endings,
like an undone ball of string strewn carelessly about the floor."

but they told me the only ones who use a broken heart as an excuse
are the liars, the beggars, the cons, the sullen whore.

so they dissected the situation, viewed it at all angles
and concluded that i was a self-mutilator of my own stability,
that i craved my sadness like a drug, i craved the grey
all i could do was nod my head in agreement, because
they stitched up my lips. i couldn't shout the truth.

that this is all about him.
that everything i write is always about him.

but i will stay quiet, breathing in as deeply as my tarred lungs allow,
if only for the vague thrill of exhale.

but silence remains, as you follow
your path, the one i can't navigate, though
not from lack of trying, i've not slept in weeks
trying to divulge any sense of direction from you
to no avail. the solo soldier,
beautiful lush philosopher, crazy man, lion,
my secret-keeper,
booze-induced serial-kisser.

this is perhaps one of the only debates
between our smirking faces
i've ever won, though victory feels faux
when it's by default

when i can't find you, no matter how many rooftops i stand upon.

last night i had a dream about you again.

im trying to open up again.jump into the deep end once more, let it fill up my lungs and nostrils and ears.
im scared constantly. i cling onto my sides and dig my heels in the ground.
i want it so badly it makes me sick, it causes the foggy eyes and vomit and sharp pains in my chest.
i want him it so badly it makes me sick.

i want to be covered again, in sweat and love and arms, covering me up, wholly.
 

addiction.

and you smirk and my smirnoff overtures; my hands and your hands entertwined
never have i had to chase like this, dizzying, unaware of the outcome
but i felt it on day one, blue eyes cursing me again between your callused hands on the guitar strings
a gaze met and not broken away so easily, causing my nerves set ablaze

i felt it again, hidden in that darkened room, your hands roaming all over
lips and tongues attacking one another in the best kind of warfare--

did i know you before, silence?
did we meet in the life before, the one where i was nicer, purer?

but trains pull away and ill still have your hair all over me, and a wanting deep
in the pit of my stomach and heart
and three small bruises from your fingers pressing against my stomach
just pushing, but not pushing away.

if you really knew what goes on behind this lie, what kind words would you mumble?
would you still hold me, desperately, or would you fuck me and lock me out of the house?
the tarots told me to look out.  an attack is underway, and i am free of any sorts of protectional weaponry.
i crave the scent of late springtime and honeysuckle and his sweat all over my stomach and thighs.
i quit smoking cigarettes and have cut back on the drinking; though wine always has it's persuasions.
i just can't wait to see his face again; shuddering beautifully at my slightest touch.


[he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not...]

how am i going to show him that love exists when i can barely manage to prove it to myself most days?

the days are darker and my innocence is gone; within a flash of the lights they all saw the portrayal of my debauchery usually kept quiet behind closed doors.  nothing really matters anymore, i'm x-ing down the days again until i leave.  until my life really starts.  i feel like these past few months have just been a flicker of the glow i should be absorbing.  but you know me.  i want it all.

"what time are we upon, and where do i belong?"

hot breaths circulated in and out and up and down, tangled hair
engulfs the neck and god shivered out of his hiding spot
and bummed me a cigarette, as he lit up his own menthol square.

she gave me speed and she gave me booze
and she gave me a life i keep pretending to lose;
utmost efficience keeps me clinging to my organ
and my own flesh and my own self-righteous
curiousit about the complex calculations that occur
between two people, a dream, and friction.

valium dreams make my body relax and
cocaine fantasies make my mind wide awake,
so the reality is me, sitting and thinking
wandering through the dimension like
that barefoot little girl on the island of
her mother's shame.

you show no trepidation at my extraverted undulation
and i cannot help but bite my lip as your hand falls onto my hip--
because, tomorrow when the moon has faded
you'll realize, like they all do, i'm helplessly jaded.