kill your television

this television has come
for blood
stagnant and steaming
buzzing with the noise
of multiplying mosquitoes.

your eyes never close
their veins constricted
and pupils dilated
and the muscles
long forgotten
wasting upon themselves.

the commercials boom
ever louder ever louder
from the speakers long sense blown.
and the verbs reverberating
hypno-tonic seduction
and manufactured dreams.

and you have become
the somnambulist
drifting in and out
from one flashing screen to the next-
the white noise ever present
like a pulse inside your mind.

all caution abandoned
and warnings ignored
you are now the apathy
and all your hedonic escapism
and all your prime-time thoughts
exist only in your television.

Wisconsin.
6:55 PM
Milwaukee.
January.
Wisconsin.

Pick me up.
Drive me away.
Like the cold
and the snow
and Fargo.

Midwest Airlines
$313.30
Fresh baked cookies.
Trip confirmation.
Bring a jacket.

Wisconsin.

Communist.

lately I've been getting so tired
before right o'clock.

Your sighs heave and high
by the foot of my feet
just to meet me some sweet-
just to meat me some sweet.

Now my toes are returning
from months of departure
leaving the body a cold

lonely numb, and your
patient is manic
aggressive and panicked
so don't let him out of your sight.

Now my eyes fill with sleep just
seduced by her grief
and can't wait to get out of this cold.

But the hold on the fold
of your tri-folded page

won't just tell them they're all in my space.

121307

My eyes become sleepy
and hands numb with cold
-this is vacation.
"VACATION", I'm told.

Your bell is attentive
bring my gaze to your gate
but writing in water-
my uncommon fate.

Your pacing has driven,
me miles and miles.
And words go unspoken
as luggage just piles.

My heart beats too steady
untrue to my course
-and shaky feet stumble.
She left him by force.

Your missing already
the shape of my face-
the touch of my grace-
the way that I taste-
my presence in place-
of your cold Winter lonely,
holding tightly my trace.

My burrowing deeply,
hidden moments in yours,
and one last kissed longing,
prevents closing these doors.

scissor sisters.

"
Is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead.
The gold is brown.
And the sky has claws.

There's a wind up man
walking 'round and 'round.
What once was Emerald City's
now a crystal town.

"

112507

My attempted failures
cover your hands
to drip a stick
between each finger
only to fill a life with safe.

Misfires shooting
dead the pilgrims of the night.
Fingers, grasping
pewter vowels
shines the Heavens.

Black like his
grows the length of your ink and
never, never,
never would she bake
your favorite pie.

Don't rush home now
Sweetheart.
The Benadryl fills the lung.
And never could you
scritch, scritch,
scratching succeed
to protect your hands above.

And fill me with the liquor
sweet, each bottle burns
in memory.
Your eulogy.

112207

Sleep schedules mixed in with rain
and skin never tasted so sweet
and bellowing laughter,
from all the king's horses
like winter leaves land on their feet.

A night waiter's mystery motive
and sick syrup slides on the tongue
and Faerie of Kisses
deep breathes in the dreams
like fingers caught deep in the lung.

For full moons shine ever so sweetly
and light a foot path for the night
while frozen bare toes
upon fogged windows
just add to a daydreamer's plight.

Fighting Your W's. (Your roommate is home.)

i like our jokes..
which ones?
all of them??!

Do you want to:
1. Take a walk
2. Stay right here
3. Take a bath
4. Go to my room?
5. Get crunk
??

1. I think its too cold
2. Maybe, what do I know?
3. Think so? Getting clean is good.
4. Your room sucks. (You're an asshole)
5. We should mix that with all of the above.

!!

120107

the seeds of this fruit
are looking like jewels
so make me a necklace
sweetened with kisses

in the candle's exhaustion
smoke curls through the distance
nostalgia
reminiscent of birthdays.

and what am I?
college kid.
lover.
friend.
covered in dirt.
the oils from my skin.

a poet-not a poet.
a child-not a child.
you never asked me,
"take care of me"
and I heard it just the same.

my bathtub full of secrets
my bedroom plagued hysteria
and snow falls, a tease, to the spirit

while mold makes you sick
and sugar fills the lungs
and you can't shake the smell
from your head.