I Would Leave Me If I Could: A Collection of Poetry(14)



I will dive in your DNA.

I will stay here, patiently,

comatose in the wake of your everything-ness.

Your all.

I will make permanent residence right here

in your acquaintance.





16 MISSED CALLS


It’s another Monday morning

and you still haven’t slept in your bed.

It’s only been 3 days

but I’m told that

Jesus did a lot over the weekend

when we thought he was dead.





FOREVER… IS A LONG TIME


I spent a long time watering a plant made out of plastic, and I cursed the ground for growing green.

I spent a long time substituting honest with sarcastic and I cursed my tongue for being mean.

Weightless, breathless, restitute.

Motionless and absolute.

You cut me open,

sucked the poison

from an aging wound.

And now 50,000 war cadets would cower at this small brunette.

To my surprise,

not 6 feet high,

who’d reach and grab the moon, if I should ask, or just imply that I wanted a bit more light, so I could look inside his eyes, and get the colors just right.

I spent a long time calling all my parts by evil nicknames, and I told myself they hate me too.

But you spent a long time, tending to a home that’s burning in flames and your patience made me love you.

Build love, build god, build promises build calluses, then build provinces ’cause I have found somebody who would build life, then demolish it.

And we could simply hit rewind, to live it all a thousand times find views in fucking Kathmandu, to watch it from a different height (and we’d comment how the sun shines) I searched the world to find

you hiding inside me the whole damn time.

Weightless,

breathless,

restitute…





BAD DAY: EPILOGUE


“Swallow your apologies.

None of them mean shit to me.

And all you have these days are bad days.”

These things they come and go and I mean half of everything I tell you.

I’m half of everything I hate, and half of anything I create is you too.

So I’ll start to hate my future when I hate you.





L TRAIN


One day, just like any other day, you will wake up and something will stir in your belly.

It will shake

and growl

and rumble like a beast and claw its way up your throat.

With two strong hands it will wrench your lips apart and force your mouth wide open and you will say, “I want it.”

And you do.

Painfully so.

You will decide it’s yours.

And from that moment forth you will never be the same.

Your eyes will glaze with a glimmering film that lights up the dark with its iridescent flickering.

Your teeth will grit and throb and threaten to burst like cracks in concrete.

Your stride will become faster, stronger,

quicker.

Cutting through the air like sharp shears through parchment.

Your pen will hit the paper like a body hitting pavement and you will scrape your knees red over

and over

and over again

across the fine lines.

You will shut your eyes to the world and retreat within yourself.

You will wait there.

Patiently.

Languid in the wake of your potential.

And then one day You’ll explode.

You’ll shake your head and laugh

and scream

with hysteria.

Every single eye will focus on you with laser-sharp precision.

You will have them in your grasp.

And your fingers will fold

around them like shelter; a dark ceiling closing in, and you’ll keep them there, in your kingdom.

One day you will explode.

And your pieces will scatter to far corners of the world never to be found again.

You will trade these pieces for that thing.

That thing you wanted.

You traded Everything to have it.





HIGH-FIVE KIDS


Back to where it all began, this time with another man.

’Cause mine has found his place amongst the fountains.

One-hundred-dollar wine to drink The blood pools in the kitchen sink, and buildings line the windows like the mountains.

Stuck in limbo,

I’m bent backwards.

Crooked spine,

and broken plaster.

Tell me, do you know the password?

We’re denied by heaven’s master.

Back to where

the pavement breaks.

Lined all along tectonic plates.

The stars soaked in the sidewalk spell the message.

When all your lovers start to die.

You wake alone

and wonder why

they left you here

to document the wreckage.

They tell me that it’s art I make, in all this chaos I create.

They tell me that it’s much too late.

To rectify all my mistakes.

The kid is dead and gone back to the

Kingdom.





HAVING


How strange to write about

“having”

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