Untold Horros of the Cancer Choke

There was an echo

within this place

of children

dying and crying

in hospital hallways,

their sobs rang through the rooms

of my head like

a fucking thunder.

Kind calm mamas

wipe her quiet tears

and dads sing her favorite lullabies

as the poor babe

tries to fall back to sleep

with IVs pump

chemicals

all the way up to

her red curls,

which she will also lose

in a weeks time.

I saw nurses

distracting boys

with train toys

while sleep starved parents

get more bad news

and wept in restrooms

so their kids wouldn’t see.

I must confess of doing

this as well

and became friends with the

bathroom stall wall

who wept with me

which I thought was very kind indeed.

I remember Jordan crying out to me in my sleep,

then waking up

in the middle of the night

with a start

and finding a text from him

in the many months after his diagnosis

telling me he was scared

and didn’t feel brave,

so I got up at

5 in the morning

and drove like a witch possessed

to walk and drink coffee with him

in the early morning frosts,

hearing his story,

his processing of death,

thus life too,

and we got sad together,

got angry together,

wept together

at this cancer that

didn’t hear us or care,

and even more so

for needing our father

taken from us before the cancer came calling.

The untold horrors of the

cancer choke

stick in my throat.

I cant,

just cant speak it out

like a crave to,

so I breathe,

just breathe baby,

breathe,

and smile on.

Ancestor Call

Dark night hours,
I wrestle 
with the fallen angels
in dreaming times,
he fights me
to make me bleed
and I am sweaty hot,
weary from the war.
I wept for you monster,
doomed to repeat
bad habits
as if fate liked
licking your ankles
and staying after
all the other shiny guests
had left,
she crawls into bed with
you and watches you sleep.

Death seemed to
keep me as
her servant,
bound and gagged,
screaming
with sadness
so loud
I assumed I awoke
the universe
who consequently didn't seem to
have a care
and fell back down
to soft beds,
fluffy down pillows,
with warm others,
snuggling her through
the cold night
as I lay sobbing sleep
every twilight
since I can seem
to recall.

Jordan and I
were the closest of
soul blood,
bonded together brethren,
and now
he's been taken from me
and I am left here
to fight these nasty growling,
gnashing teeth to my skin,
demons,
all alone.

The Wandering Thunder

What the rain said

in the deep night,

when she cursed 

the sky that birthed her,

hissing next to my ear lobe,

she meant

every,

word,

and I kept her secrets

tucked carefully away 

in shadows.

I woke up

feeling old, and 

as the sun came up,

wondered how he 

keeps pulsing light,

finding the energy

to keep glowing 

is beyond me

though something always to

strive for regardless 

of the teeth-y world.

Cant quite understand

why the sky can thunder down

shaking the fucking earth,

but can't simply open her

fantastic mouth 

and take me inside.

Licking Fire

The crow’s urgent call

woke me

from my haunted staring

into air and time

bleeding by.

Fits of such a violent melancholy

kept me in a perpetual state

of holding my breath,

waiting for the sorrow to subside

as high tides do

after the ocean’s

been weeping in chorus

with the moon.

Could I not just drift

inside your head for awhile?

Forget my woeful weary,

the horrorshow I’d seen

played out in the daytime.

Mmm though at night,

I watched death and the engulfing fire

that licks her lusty skin,

she flits and twists round,

ripped up fishnets held together

by bobby pins

and a loose t-shirt that fell off her shoulders,

making crop circles

on my clean carpet

with her dirty bare feet.

Between you and me,

she was such a tease,

and I loved it.

After she had her fill of me,

slipping out into the dark,

and just as I was closing my windows,

he snuck in between

my mouthing nighttime syllables,

shaking self loathing,

crawling into my bed after

visitation hours,

and I couldn’t help myself,

craved to hold his shivering bones

together

until the pain he howled out subsided,

his tears drying on my cheek.

We swapped no words,

just breaths and skin,

for that cold boy

who had lost his way,

again,

tossing in the storm

that he blamed me for,

though in truth,

we were just two hurricanes

bumping into each other,

ravenous desire

to feel something,

anything,

besides that dank suffering lonely.

It occurs to me

that I had the habit

of falling for broken angels

sewn up inside

with grit and smoke.

And do you mind?

Stop trampling through

my dreams,

stumbling amidst the scenes,

hungry and impatient.

I beg you for a moment

without your tongue’s wet stutters

gnashing  and lashing out at me.

Twilight took great delight in sinking in between my legs,

just to hear me moan. 

Freak Hiss

I freaked my way

through the space

between your heart beats

and the stained sheets that

lay on your dirty floor.

Unnerving I know,

but my supernatural pulse

would not permit me

to stay in these

rundown bones of mine.

Dragonflies lost on the subway,

I never quite felt

the sense of belonging,

rolling my eyes at the sputtering lies

I heard in coughing crusty crowds,

sighing to the tune of my

senses dulling,

dreaming damned,

I hissed inferno and magic

which was misinterpreted

as snake songs and graffiti.

Frowns of forefathers

and sobs of our earthen mothers

in the time that passed silently

backwards,

we habitually settled

for hasty hiking up of skirts,

dungeon detail,

gravel eating,

and the sour tastes

of ghosts in our pained periphery.

I craved instead-

staring holy hallucinations

in the eye,

taking the metaphysical plane

in our dripping mouths,

sex teeth glistening,

laughing at such a ravenous freedom

that could be ours if we so choose it,

birthing luscious melodies

and banging on the furniture

with frenzied fucks,

an eroticism

so intense,

so very deep,

kept me in a constant

state of orgasm

which I learned from the moon,

how to quiet my howling head.

I craved to have your skin

throb and ache

to the rhythms of my own,

feel my bones

wake up in the night and shake

hearing your voice

whispering me back to bed

when I went wailing and walking

in my restless sleep

through the ether tremors,

your subtle stroking

soothing the seizure visions,

soft and sultry,

stealing me away

from thundering nightmares,

lifting my body

up through the dark.

Wrap around me again

and hoist bright lanterns

above my wicked forehead,

illuminating even the creep places in my

screaming skull.

Show me any goddamn reason to give

this sorrow earth

another chance

in the morning

whilst I just

want to lay in bed all day

and drown my memories out

with my molten tears.

Yet as I cringe at the thought of the dawn,

another stifling day

without a hand to hold,

a glorious cold

swept in,

slinking inside me

through the open window,

I moaned

with the pleasure

she brought down,

my brain alive

with predicate possibilities,

sizzling desire

ricocheted through

my bloody veins,

reminding me

hope can always be found,

even in the murk and the mire.

Living in the Mind of the Alligator

Living in the mind

of the alligator,

I crunched down hard

on strings

that tied me down

to the underworld

as she grinned at me in my sleep,

tossing my brain,

back and forth,

oh so back and forth,

creating harmonies

from my miseries

that had a language

of their own.

My stinging head

lay somber and sober,

and an empathic stare

from a stranger

undressed me in my

well hidden despair,

understanding me more deeply

in that fading instant than

most people who pretend to know me well,

seems these solar flare moments

are occurring with gathering speed,

ticking backwards on a pinwheel.

Shrill screams

shattered windows,

glasses melted down

to their insides,

the mirror was the only ghost

who saw my tears,

heard my haunted moans

from the graveyard

while I danced the Charleston,

swung round and around

by the sly tombstones and trombones

who tried to get me drunk

so I would take them home

to fuck and leave quickly

with the guilt stained to their faces

in the middle of the dawn

who draped itself on our skin

without a whisper

or any explanation.

As the black and blue butterflies

flit to and fro

in front of my hindsight,

the only patterns

that seemed to repeat

were the reaper’s raspy tones

skipping on the phonograph,

and the steam that

enjoyed soaking and clutching

my windows

in the early yawning morning

when I took my youngest brother

to school

so he wouldn’t have

to ride the sticky seated

yellow jacket bus

with its scissor sting occupants,

bumping and smashing

into each other with hormones

and vengeance.

Though I tried to

choke down my insidious pain,

it seeped out of my aching pours

anyway,

not giving a downtrodden damn

or waiting for permission,

alchemy taking tea

with the monsters

I slept with,

watching the people

who I had been there for,

time and again,

wiping their tears away

with my bleeding hands,

they then to leave me all alone in my

retching,

howling,

sorrow,

to hitchhike back home

without even a hint of compassion

on their vacant faces,

just cold stone staring back at me.

So instead of waiting around

for you to be done with your cigarettes,

your lie stained teeth,

your liquored up false promises and

fake adorations,

I wandered away weary by myself,

talking with

the sky spirits,

singing to the tree limbs

in their waking hours,

mouthing words

to the water

flowing down

my temperamental skin,

praying with my face to the earth

in hoping reverence

that grief will leave me be,

even for just a breath,

so I can rise up

with the moonlight

in holy ecstatic pleasure

to forget who I am. 

Elements and Breathing Habits

Oh Muse,

why so harsh and

swiftly away

again

as of late,

taking tea with bloodbath hands

and fake memories

implanted in the

dusty head of

suicide trees,

the winking moon,

poor Dante and his

fall of man,

and Jesus did weep,

in the end,

that was more

a beginning,

when you think about it.

I choked down tears,

talks with the

sandstorms
stirring outside my window frame,

drainpipes fucked up on toxins,

fornication governments
all of which lead
straight for the

dear wild wisdom oceans

that tossed and turned me

into my nightmare reveries
ever to awake my spirit with

gnashing lusty teeth
inside my own head,
following me to 

the star-lighted

sky

who groans for no man,

just fire-breathers

to mix with her

ferocious flames,

purge her icy waters,

be underneath her in the earth.

Fortune telling

came so natural to me,

like the urge

to ride your face,

it was instinct,

not something that

I even,

necessarily,

asked for,

ugh,

I hated my visions

most of the time,

damned me forever

to loneliness, and

spirits were the only

ones who seemed to care

anymore,

on this weary plane

of egos and

alcoholics,

cancer treatments,

and misery,

always seemed to find me,

on that yellow bricked

road

to nasty and

divinity.

And I tried so hard

to howl loud enough

so you could hear my thoughts,

staining the walls of your bedroom,

understand and move

with me,

my wasting away

into death thoughts

and love,

perhaps,

in the light,

that took me,

thank god,

away from here.