My mom bought me a
video game console
and I played it
after 300 happy meals.
You kissed me
at a party in
a Norman Bates dress
and I told you
I didn’t know you
and you walked away.
You left your filigree
earings pinned
above my bed,
when you’re gone
like a dreamcatcher.
But the nightmares
still came.
I don’t know
what holds back the
thought of crashing
my car unto a tree
off the interstate.
So I put my cardigan on
to feel as romantic
as my grandfather but
how can I trust my feelings
when they can just disappear
like that?
By way of your hints,
By way of your mouth,
I took notice to your being.
By your face,
I already knew you.
By your sight…
By your empty existence
Incomparable to your
Title of self worth.
I saw you on your own pedestal
And I wanted to drag you
Down to my bed.
I didn’t wonder why you’re lonely,
Because as you pursed your lips
You resembled the Garden serpent,
Always on the hinge
Of exploiting the curious.
I won’t stop
As I walk away
From your street
As you sleep.
Illustrated by paleness
and gloom, he got locked
by the town into a tomb.
With the knowledge
to dig a hole
he dug up a grave,
then a graveyard.
The bones that the ground
gifted him in boxes
were brought to his new room
as tools for animal hunt games.
The flesh worked as dress
and facades to wear
when he didn’t want
the town to look at him
as the same.
And I plan on being the first
to gun him down.
Haunt the houses
Of the paranormal
With all your love,
Sprout your favourite flowers
Through their eroded halls,
Invite your warmth
To rooms that have only
Seen the cold and lock
Yourself in rooms
That nobody knows.
A beauty such as you
Has no right not to share it,
Rot your good looks
Until they fade.
As my angel pulls me down
To think of nothing but
Her and the flesh
I bite my teeth down
And try to think of the empire.
Our history is a joke.
No new outlook can change
How comical our present is becoming.
So as the new event,
Becomes the old
I won’t be the one
Saying it meant something.
My only existence
Is living in the future
Writing poems for
Ladies unknown
Until the present
Catches up with me.
But if I only
Turned around to see
The statues themselves,
I would be able to see
How great they’re becoming.
“Sir, would you be kind
enough to take a picture
of me and my wife
under this here building?”
“No”
“ All right,” he said. “Listen,” and read again, but only one stanza this time and closed the book and laid it on the table. “She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,” McCaslin said: “Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair.”
“He’s talking about a girl,” he said.
“He had to talk about something,” McCaslin said.
— The Bear, by William Faulkner
My choice is to go
Full force
Into you knowing
What to expect,
I know about your history
Of defeating men bigger
Than me, and how you
Welcomed the next
With a sense of respect.
I’m in this for the flesh,
I don’t care what you do
As long as you keep
Your skin clear.
“and I write this only to rob you.”
So when you come to slit
My throat when the next one
Knocks upon your rooms open door
I’ll let you know this is what
I expect.
My anticipated return to
My disposition
In the 2nd Circle of Hell
Won’t be bitter,
For this time I’m more
Of a legend than before.
I’ll try to say hello
As you make your way down
To your new destine home,
Where you’ll start
Your endless march below me
In the 8th Circle of Hell.
So as the great romance begins
I’ll cut to your chase,
I’m infernally not yours,
As I spiral down the staircase.
I am still glad that I came.
“and I write this only to rob you.”
You have a face
Like spring.
It’s full of life
(not a corpse in sight)
And demands a smile
To spread across me.
I have a face
Like winter.
A wrecking freeze
(carcasses hide under
the pores to avoid
the breeze)
Forcing the nervous
Jitters to those
Near to me.
I’ll treat your soil
With chemical sprays.
I’ll water your garden
With acid rain.
I won’t change for you,
But you should change
For me.
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