I Woke up Sucking on Lemon

I woke up hungry, which reminds me that I’m still alive

Hungry for oatmeal, or a hunk of red meat that I could tear

To bits in my mouth like a beaten heart

I woke up hungry for hand-holding

And I think holding hands is what separates us from the animals

I think holdings hands is what separates lust from love 

Love is blind, but lust is 20/20

I woke up this morning and ended up eating

Oatmeal out of a bowl that used to belong to a former lover

The way I would eat out of the palm of his hand

As if I were never feral, as if my killer alley cat days

And nights were a dream, were just something I saw in a movie

 

How now, years and months, days and hours later

How can I still crave to de domesticated?

I cry for lack of lap-sitting, hand-holding, all I want is to be pet

I am clawing at the door of everything I’ll never admit that I want 

I have put every acidic insult or moment

Of silence like a soft square in the middle of my tongue

I let it all dissolve and sink into my core

I go down with the ship, I go out with the bathwater

I am neither here nor there, and everyone that I want

To be there isn’t anywhere to be found

And it isn’t anybody’s fault - it’s just the way

Early morning underwater earthquakes work

Rushmore

Rosemary Cross: Do you think we're going to have sex?
Max Fischer: That's a kinda cheap way to put it.
Rosemary Cross: Not if you've ever fucked before, it isn't.

Left Arm

Home is nausea
Love is a headache
And a heart-attack sounds like the most
Exciting thing that could happen to me

On Why Now I'm Not Writing You Back

There's no casual way to say


I'm sorry we lost touch too
I know I was always one of the better letter writers of the twenty first century
In every thing I breathe love into, I am prolific
I like writing more than most so
An ink-stained heart-spill goes unanswered, and I do not have to
Wonder, and I know stamps are expensive
(Or maybe priceless, for what they are)
But the thing is, is that they're hard to remember


I used to keep a book of them next to my mirror
But its a mess down there on the carpet, and I don't know
What I can say to the boy I love without it being too much
And every time I write a four page SOS to K, everything
I've just penned has completely changed by the time I cross the T's
Or cross my heart and hope to


Its not nice of me to say I never noticed
Because I was too busy worrying about how there were only two of us


Besides K, besides myself there were only two of us
Out of all those people when we were thick as thieves
Like blood in the zip code of my lonely cola veins
There are many I would rather forget, and am coming close to
There are two I pray are either in jail or in the asylum of the state and of
Their ashtray broken promise broken synapse souls


There were only two I missed, and needed, and talked to, and liked
Two that weren't going to fuck or beat the life out of someone
Two that had something to say but kept silent when listening
Two that had a chance for a beautiful life and one of them fucking died


Nobody wants to talk about him
I don't
I don't think we ever did, back when I wanted to




And you can waltz back into my life to the tune of whatever
Bright Eyes song you want, you really can




And K is still perfect, she is an angel cut in half, filled with sugar
And sealed back up and I don't always know who I am
And now I have no idea who you are and there is no
Polite way to wonder to you
Whether he was the only one
Of us who was ever any good at all

I Should've Been Motherfucking Black Mamba

I only understand my life when its moving at the rate of any
Well-choreographed Quentin Tarantino fight scene




The action comes standard, the violence is extra
And sometimes the blood is necessary




Sometimes I will drag your heart through the desert like a dead body
I will bury your soul in the shallow grave of my mouth




My reputation precedes me, I can be more cotton-candy than razor-blade
I don't light my own cigarettes but I can pour my own poison




Yours too








I like the part where Uma Thurman spins around on the ground
Cutting everybody's feet off