kick the dirt

16.12.2018

asphalt hums on oil leaks
streets quiet – showing streaks
vomit stains on dirty sheets
hit the wind on water flowing
where we’re going there’s no knowing
blowing air in my direction
dirty words and tooth-rot glaring
you swear and question ticket fares –
i hate you but can’t stop staring.

saddle up behind the rider
cold shoulder boulder driver
storms rattle dust up in my
mind – underneath is only rust
as metal scrapes the earthborn sky
briar patch of thorns and whistles
sing it to me through snake hisses
kiss me silent spit sour dry –
submission tastes a lot like this.

the form

3.12.2018

i have never known myself.
a stranger lying in wait within
my scrambling flesh. when
it sings, sinks in the singe of
match burns and quiet lies,
calling out – like to like,
sinew and muscle vibrato,
the skeleton hums in climaxing
stasis, the never-ever-getter
getting something in the end,
the finality of crying
in a quiet bed.

it is not enough.
it will never be right or
good or whole enough for you,
take and take and do not
give a shit or second
thought – you seam up the hole
but leave the inside bleeding.

shadow of the counter-part;
everything in this mouth tastes
like cardboard, bile, some latex
foreign object – square
hole, round peg. and in
the middle of this tandem mess…
the form, the screaming words
caught in shirtsleeves, bedspreads.

straining ears catch no pentameter.
words wrap like thistles round
my thighs, mouth soundless and
torn as a stuffed doll. trip and stop.

i have
no idea what i’m doing anymore.