Tuesday 2/14/2017 11:15:00 PM

everything was close. in that callously exemptive way that all grief gathers. the moment not quite there. yet excrutiatingly near.

the silence spun. kinetic and untamed. her flesh the tether. her want the clasp.

everything was fading. the colors going deaf. the bridges choking on the rigor of perspective.

ache simmered. all cliffs and ropes. counting their empty hours. in soiled blankets and knots undone.

the puzzle swelled. trembling with the solution.

the rain fell lightly. the sun never shone.

2/07/2017 01:14:00 AM

we weren't there. not yet. numb to the faltering credibility of touch.

the path that led us there simultaneously led away. it's a simple paradox that complicates everything.

i wasn't prepared to try. it felt enough just to let it happen. a long string taut on the kite. a thin bargain struck with the wind.

summer swept to winter. in the shallow cuts that time inspires. we weren't there. nor were we any closer. yet we had travelled so far.

the end emerged. softened by the blindness of perspective. she knew how sharp the corners. but not where next they might cut.

she understood the math. the biology of numbers. the swell of distance as it erupts.

it was the getting there that never made sense.

Wednesday 2/01/2017 12:12:00 AM


louder.it caromed. it ricocheted. a pile of broken glass in the tense fist of fate.

we let it spit. we let it grieve. petitioning the lies embedded deep inside our flesh.

it lived. a brief explosion. more hunger than nourishment.

it pounded. it shook. choices spilling into panic. chances erupting with want.

it died. the same way everything does. quietly at first. then much louder.

Tuesday 1/31/2017 12:34:00 AM

The french toast was really good. French toast at 3am always tasted better. They had that in common. Everything else was changing.

You drive too fast. Yeah, but you don't drive at all. I get us there.

You've got the lawyer tomorrow. The realtor's after that. Help me pack up this stuff. Silence.

The remains of the french toast growing sticky and hard on her plate. Her coffee getting cold. She hadn't even been hungry to begin with. It was just pity and loyalty that pushed them out the door. Sat them at that diner and waited for life to erupt between them.

***

It's always better in the dark. Alone like this. Taking care of myself. Forgetting there's a world outside my head. It's not selfish if you're saving yourself. Or maybe that's exactly what it is.

***

What am I supposed to do. That was her standard query. I didn't have an answer. I didn't even understand how she could ask me the question.

I could reply. You should be responsible. You should take care of me. Or at least not expect me to take care of you. But I'd already said that so many times. Pissing into the wind. That's all the answers were. Or ever would be. She was granite. A granite child relying on anyone and everyone other than herself. That's who she was.

And who was I? I was the morbid product of her sickness. That's all I had ever been. A pinprick of light in the shadow of her disease. A pinprick of light surrounded by darkness. Nowhere to go in any direction.

***

I want to tell her that I understand, but I don't.



Saturday 1/28/2017 11:28:00 PM

the distance lurches into focus. a redolent affliction. heavy with its laboring scars. all her butterflies wingless. all her fevers spent. on fickle diseases of the heart.

the roots wander. the choices are breathless.

every moment stutters. the awkward science of conceit. it'll never be this close again.

the apple rots. the temptation weakens. it changes. in all the worst ways. it forgets. the cruel amnesia of touch. wears our bodies like crutches.

fractions of skin. jumping rope. collecting emptiness. bits of treasure in the lies we tell ourselves.

fingers shouting. voices mute. counting the growing piles of stone. all the mazes of how intersecting.

shallow fractures pierce the flesh. the brightness of the pain is a welcome distraction.

the continuity blisters. the memory fills with puss.

time's dull blade tears rather than cuts.

Tuesday 1/24/2017 11:53:00 PM

the pain resolves. something similar to suffocation. a pinch of air in the needle. just as the drug is absorbed.

the years ingest life's poisons  until everything is toxic. a stutter of friction. on the thinnest blade of flesh. effortlessly consumes everything i thought i had become.

in my mind i die a every day.  a splinter in the bony finger of tomorrow. a purchase of want. staler than i remembered. though hunger eagerly surrendered.

we search. skin like maps unfolded. impossible to put back the way it was.

there's no need for lies when even truth has its fictions.

we got old. we knew it would happen, but were still surprised when it did.

the grief erupted. a dull blade. tearing its way through the layers of want. until only knots remained.

it was a choice. or wasn't it. i still haven't decided.

it was a beginning. it was an end. it's the middle that's worrisome..

the steep slope of conceit. as it puzzles after our panic. the soft crackle of the flame in my chest. as i let it burn again.

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