she said to cut the daisy from my throat III

we had a talk back in may, and i frankly do not recall saying "now, make sure you fuck this up."

my suggestions either way have no place in the matter. it's just a damn shame, because she's so pretty and i think you may have used to be handsome but then it turned out you weren't hot shit after all and i fucking hate the way your eyes narrow when you think you're being charming. blackout drunk.

the problem is not that you're out of your mind, the problem is that your head is in you. quite intact. quite frightening. the problem is that my hands shake when i think of how things are in comparison to how things were, and that your fingers are crossed neatly hanging lightly from your resting forearms. the problem is not that you disgust me, but that you are disgusting. and i know you will fuck anything that moves or doesn't move and given the chance you would issue whatever necessary to make sure your dick ends the night limp. it can start with a smile or it can start with a guilt trip. because "it isn't gunna suck itself." 

no shit, idiot. maybe you should start stretching then because that isn't her job.

i remember the time we wrestled, actually wrestled. you pinned me, then I came back stronger and too flexible. so i won and you cried for hours. that is a symbol and it makes me laugh.  

must be hard to grapple with knowing that if your brain says you feel love, then it must be true. why would our brains tell us different? i do not have an answer for that but i do know that sometimes my brain tells me i am hungry when it is far more likely that i am dehydrated. 

just chemicals between synapses. 

she might be made of feathers. you must know because she sprouts new ones in the middle of the night and by morning they are gone and you are the only other person in the room.

angels do not take well to plucking, you see. they have flying to do, you see.

koyczan

a large man just made me cry. like some god packed him with words and then set him on the grass, said “don’t you ever run out.” and maybe I shouldn't put so much effort into sweating because then the words that are packed in my own body melt off my skin -  evaporate and find their way to the clouds and the problem is it’s been a dry summer so I may not ever see them again. 

lolz

it worries me

that people have seen thousands of cat pictures and see dozens more every day.

and that i can put hours of effort strategically placing and planning a few hundred words in a way that i hope barely exists, if at all.

Why is it easier to get views on a dumb cat picture that took 6 seconds and a teaspoon of luck, than on one piece of hours-planned, attempted - even if failed - art?

 It makes me sad, friends. 

shiver - a summer in colorado.

Another one of those dark, bluesky days
in the only heaven i know.
 every sunset this summer has mirrored
the flaming mountain forests.


  this morning the sun rose, dripped with blood
thick with iron, steel
and saltwater.

there's a robin outside my window,
he sings a four-note melody
he hasn't stopped singing all day
I think he must be lonely

there's a robin outside my window
still singing his four-note melody
sometimes he doesn't get all the notes right..
maybe that's why he's so lonely.

Yesterday I made friends with a cat.
he only spoke to me because I wore all black
with yellow shoes.
he wears all black all the time and
little lemon eyes.
Neither of us wears a collar.

If I ever have a cat, I will call him Richard Simmons
so that his fur grows up to be curly.
My logic has no flaws.
Only he will not wear spandex because that,
my friends, is animal cruelty,
if only because there is no space for the tail.

And if I have a baby, she will learn to love the snow
the same way many of us learned to love the water:
thrown into it, naked, at infancy.

(In order to fall in love

first you must make a lot of it.

pour it over the edge of a mountain

or a cliff so when you fall, you have

no choice but to swim in it.

In order to fall in love

first you must make a lot of it.

they say you can drown in just an inch of standing water

I say -- to be safe -- we make an ocean.

breathe your fire all the way

 down

   my

    spine

it drips like warm honey when you give me your sugar.

You're a waterfall frozen inside my mind;

keep on running, try it -

but I'm keeping you.

You're mine.