little lost causes

Friday, April 23, 2010

different postures

i sat up with a jolt when my alarm went off.
the sky was grey but warm and
it seemed more dynamic than regular sunshine.
i thought i liked it better.
it suited me more. i looked for emails. in the shower i had anxiety
about washing my hair too much.
all the air was in there.
all the words in the emails from that person were useless.
he used 'posture' wrong and he positioned it towards me.
i'm not ok with this compromise.
when i read from my phone, i watch my hands shiver
and my nails curl.
i press the tip of my finger into the black device until
there's no more blood in it
and these words fall into my lap.
he was a liar and he admitted it in these messages.
it was his fault, he said, and he was proud of me
for being so strong but he still needed to talk to me.
sometimes, i get a cramp in the arch of my foot
and i'll scream about it.
sometimes, i feel sick and i'll make long groaning noises
to relieve the pressure.
if you come home and seek me out,
i'll scramble.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Folded Chairs

It used to snowed. We were snowed in around a tiny formica table.
We drank beers and bloody marys and I sweat in my seat
under my shirts and on the plastic and I tried to touch you.
I tucked my finger into your palm while you took pictures.
I tried to talk about my new apartment and the plants I'd buy.
I'll put my bed in the corner and get a long, narrow table.
There will be so many green things on the floor it'll become forest.
I'll scatter soil in the bathroom and leave bowls of water out
as reminders. On a chair by the tub will be a stack of magazines
with an ashtray on top and perhaps a vine climbing the sink.
It'll be a fucking forest, I thought
when the wind was white with snow.

Champagne Wall

I have no headboard,
it's just the wall there.
My white wall goes up and back,
it's high and wide
and yesterday,
when we in bed in the afternoon,
there were shadows from the blinds
all over it. I waited with the white wall.
I looked over my shoulder at it.
Poor white wall caught my hand,
catches my movies in bed,
steams up in the night with dreamy breath
and slows down with the fan.
The white wall is clear and pretty
and alone most of the time.

Boy Toy

I am a soft toy
and my limbs splay easily.
I miss the way you held me,
fed me fake food,
casted me off when a friend called.
I trusted you to ruin my fur,
yank at my torso,
whisper hot, wet secrets down my throat,
catch me with you fist,
drag me by the ear.
I relished the times when you were sick,
then we were both sick,
and you were clammy and cold
and you clung to me.
Maybe one day you won't want me like this
but, I am a toy, I say.
I am your toy.