We've refused chemotherapy, and we're dying from ourselves.

We are the afterthoughts

we, clinging to the history

and memories that were oh-so-fucking-good

we are tiny barbes dug

into a time that was better

that was alive with verse and babble

we never thought it would end

And it will never end!

But I don't see you anymore

though sometimes you comment on my blog

That's what I've it's been reduced to.

And I thought I was going to be greatness

And I thought I was going to be Ginsberg

And I though I was going to make you love me

we would never loose that moment

with crashing waves and steady beats

We beat our hearts to the stars for a taste of each other!

And you poured yours out

messy hot on the sand

littered with sandfleas and

the glitter of a starlet

I think she's going to be famous now

And we told secrets set deep in your eyes!

Your face against mine I could feel your breath

as you told me how the world should be

as we dreamed it

But our guardian has retired

and we've scattered the globe

and I don't hear from you anymore

I don't hear from you anymore

I don't hear from you anymore

Though you promised me your heart on your Birthday!

And you promised me we would be great!

But she doesn't speak to me anymore.

We have the fate of dying constellations

calling out as we fade into the universe

a forgotten song

a burning fire

so small we can't burn it down on our own!

I love you all!

I want to lick words off your eyelids!!

I love you all!

I want to devour the flesh of your soul!

I love you all!

I am dying for a chance to be close to you again!

I love you all with the heartbreak of a childless mother

and a sisterless friend

I love you all!

But you're a million miles away.

Gitta.

She is a good woman

she lights a chord

lights on her cigarette

and drinks to the board

while the tender is brilliant

billowing bright

the good woman smiles

she shouts and she cries

She is a good woman!

She is worth what she takes!

And she'll take what they give her

whatever the stake

For she's a good woman

and she calls me her friend

Yah- she's a good woman

with tears in her gin

her eyes large with ages

with hours of proof

she spills me her secrets

'cause her Englisch ist gut!

and her embrace is longing

we've said what we can

She is a good woman

her drink warm in her hand

thirteen on her tab

she can never afford

but she takes what she's given

she deserves what she's served

For it's never her fault.

She's worked for it all.

She is a good woman

in breaking she calls

"I am a good woman!"

"One of millions." she sighs

"I am a good woman."

"I am a good woman."

"I am a good woman."

She lies.

The Charity

Last night we rode to Dusseldorf

Flashing windows

leather seats

a white business Euro van

and the generosity of the Turk

the most genial

More than his restaurant

more than his motor

his English a broken German

a Kebab of incredible freedom

But some things are not what hey seem

When things are too good they must be

untrue

You cannot trust a dark man

with nothing to gain

So we eat with tendered caution

skip the tea and mind our emotions

The hour comes

it's time to go

and the Turkish man returns

on a smile

Erkan,

his name is Erkan.

Erkan returns with open arms

he drives us through Germany

he only wants to help

with nothing to gain

he is a father

extending good wealth

On we rode to Dusseldorf

suspicion biased and needless

a kind heart rolling down the highway

a white business Euro van

the generosity of Erkan.

Paris 1925

It's a gray day

you walk creaky red shag

hundred year old wood

in a hundred year old flat

It's a gray day

the street is never silent

as you serenade your new guitar strap

and score ping-pong to my head

It's a gray day

I dream of marmalade and cookies

Nutella stuck in my gums

and pancakes

a gray day.

My toes are curled in air

thick with coconut

you scraped thin with your own hands

it's a gray day

The strawberries ripen crimson

without sunshine

because they love pollution

it's a gray day.

You close the door,

to play more private

but I want to be there with you

on our gray day

in Paris 1925.

What doesn't fit on a postcard.

I miss you with the pounding of tomorrow

scrambled yolks on deep fried lashes

flashing breaks and pitching slumbers

lumbering to the edge of my conscious mind

A baked dozen wishes floating on the thermals

east-west current crashing hard against my rock

clattered weight of promises and promised

I promised I would always love you

and I do.

And I will always be the face of all your mermen

singing sweet the ocean's lullaby calling

by and by we bring you home

don't worry darling I'm waiting.

I can wait six lifetimes and that I will

a written testament to all the loves that ever were

We're the lucky ones!

Scream it loud for all eternity, "The lucky ones!"

And I love you

with a passion that exists for only one thing!

Bring your body close to mine

because I'm here to give my life to you.

Erin.

She's got black hair

dark eyes

and she has your name

but she will never be

my girl.

You've got 2,847 miles

between your town

and mine

Two highways and

2,847 miles

Yet I'm stuck in

second and third thoughts

and I can't remember

to take the time off work

I was mad when

you missed my party

and I was crushed when

you missed my birthday

Then, I didn't even

write you a poem this year

Is this really over?

Are we premature

or do we get to live out

our three years?

Three years, right?

Right.

I'm sorry I left you for him.

I'm so fucking sorry.

I never meant for this

to happen.

It just

did.

And now we don't even talk anymore.

I wonder where you are,

how you are,

what you've come to.

I picture you happy.

Five bedrooms.

A real go at love.

Not our kind of love.

Something good for you.

Something realistic,

not just real.

And he loves you,

I know he loves you.

I saw it in his eyes

in the way he touched you.

He's just a boy,

but he can learn

and he can love the force of you

all of you.

I always did

but never could

and now you've become

the girl that used to be mine.

But you'll always be

my girl.

In case you think I haven't been writing...

You're wrong. I just haven't been posting. Or something like that.

So here are two relics I just dug out of the vaults. I have no idea when they were written. I have no idea where they came from. Frankly, I don't even know if I wrote them; or who wrote them. Enjoy.

-----

sometimes I am eloquent after cereal

if we didn't have letters
from lovers past
to bring tears to our eyes
you know we'd never cry

and our hearts would close up
and we would become cruel,
and get away
with every awful thing we did


---


Why is it
my dear
you are everything
and everywhere

in my days
and in my dreams
I find you stitched
into my seams

you're in my fingers
beneath my skin
I leech you out
bleed myself again

but in my days
and in my dreams
I find you stitched
into my seams.


The more I read into these the less I think I wrote them. Please come forward if they belong to you. I find them potent enough to post them without intention.

Thank you.