i could run out of this house like that january night, or stay here & feel fear strangle me tight, or shoot back shots in the dark, or fumble over lonesome mind-full negative remarks, or stretch myself invisible, or sling close and be the brethren of these walls, or just exist in the quiet chaos of my memories getting the best of me: alone on a raining evening with the demon and the man: rolling through scenarios, pausing upon every hold, i'm taking this sheet of fickle whispers on deaf lips, i'm striking the set of this monstrous masterpiece, i'm forgetting the repeated splatters of pain, i'm reaching for scents of oranges and old books again, i'm remembering soft false-lights swinging a tune above a 60's countertop,

i'm holding maya in the base of my spine

i'm getting back what is rightfully mine.


don't you dare love me for my mistakes, don't you hate me for lying always awake, don't you forget the secrets i crumpled up and tossed aside, don't you love these maniac labyrinths in my mind, never see me drenched tits sharp with flyaway raindrops, recollect the instant of when my breath stopped, take me to shake your father's hand, lend me to the insanity landscape of your homeland, lead me to the your christaning site, bring me to your continued night.

so many of the boys i have met have taken my tainted palm and tried to wring it through and through: though when they stopped trying to push the grit aside, they saw no more of my hands, humanity stands inside my quivering faults, it blushes the paleness of innocence and brings the fervor of vivacious color to life: mistakes have broken me into my own form of beauty.





:


i sit with no one.




i sit with loneliness.



i sit


i wait


for delicious disasters.