Wednesday, May 15th, 2024

My lighter flickers whispers
of warm words
In the dark echo chamber
Of my frunchroom,
Like the 5 am sun
Rising from the lake
That could be called an ocean,
To give flame
to a bourbon scented candle
Bringing light to pictures
Of years past,
Like a lamp.

I wrote these words
Ripped from an old notebook
As a prayer
To recite out loud,
Only for my ears to hear.

Nothing really happens in this town.
I used to think,
With ever shaking legs,
Terrified of standing still,
Ripping my hair out of socket.

I can hear
the needles moving
On my wristwatch
That never tells me
The right time,
While my ears
Don't ring.

I can't say I've always tried my best,
I read out loud, word for word,
From this letter of sorrow and joy.
A real hodge podge
In waxed paper,
Telling me 10 years is not
That long a time.
Each year getting
Shorter,
And
Shorter,
While my wristwatch winds,
Never being right.

"I want to start anew",
I tell myself as I set my words
Over my white candle
Smelling like Old Grandad.

Nothing ever really happens in this town,
I thought,
For the flames to jump out at me
At the blink of an eye,
Much to my disbelief.

"This is just another thing
that didn't go to plan"
I told my limb on fire.
As the flame got bigger,
It began to reach my sleeve
Before I watered it
like a plant
And let it die
Before my skin.

Only
10
long
seconds.

Ice cold, ice cold, ice cold, water dripping
Down from the end of my Dirty faucet.
Needles piercing human leather, throbbing
Droplet after droplet.

Let it hurt,
Urgently.
I've played it safe for months.
I'll watch my heart jump out my ribcage
While my words turn to ash and fall
On my Persian rug, made in Wisconsin.

Memories sure can be overrated
When you're alive right now,
I thought, as the inside of my skin
Was being touched
By running water
I shouldn't drink.



Ambrosia

Nectar of the gods.
Look into my eyes
And stain
My thoughts,
For that's as far
As we'll get.

Whisper in my ear
Stories of the
Unknown beds
You visit by the hour,
Covered in rose petals
And linens fresh
Out the dryer,
Lit
With floor to ceiling windows,
And the mid-day sun.

Let me sniff your sweat.
Imprinted with cologne
From faceless others
With pockets deeper
Than yours and mine.

I want to trace my name
Over the red marks
On your neck
With the tip
of my Dirty fingers.
The ones you tried
To hide with your concealer,
But are still revealed
Under the incandescent light
Of our friend's kitchen,
Where you looked into my eyes
For the first time.

Here,
I'll raise my glass
For all the dim lit
Hotel bars and
Skinny glasses,
With the finest sparkling liquids,
And modern crystal chandeliers,
Overhanging the king sized beds
That support your figure
Draped in Scarlett red
Biting (through)
The Hungarian goose down pillows
That drown out your screams
Of false joy
While the meter's running,
Adding up the cents
Of your love for sale
That I'm not
Brave enough
To buy.