Sea Skin
I am
the soothing tide
drifting on back strokes,
footprints left as treasure
in dawning foam
of lapping teal waves.
I am
watching weeping
white diamond wind
tossing oceans in
salt of briny breeze,
kissing azure ocean
of white capped dreams.
I am
skin of the sea rising
to frothed crescents,
canopy of waves
sheltering my soul,
alone, holding ocean
in my sieved fingers
I am
rich cobalt view
of serene passion,
floating above surface
before diving into depth,
sunlit smile and silence.
I am
uncharted waters waiting
for you to decipher
blush of shell-toned sky,
a soaring seagull
at cusp of cerulean sea.
I am
sailing my ship
to unknown horizons
in destiny of ballads,
strolling endless shore
of no regrets.
All that I am, all I’ll ever be
A soft wind
In a strong hurricane
A fragile rose
Within a thorn bush
A broken leaf
On the forest floor
A fallen tree
Beside a beautiful sea
A farm house
In the background of a painting
A page ripped out of a book
That doesn't affect the plot
A coffee stain
Covered by a table
A single person
Alone in a pool of people
That One Girl
I woke up to the smell of coffee, and I knew there was someone else in the house. The pillow beside me was crushed and matted with use, the sheets tangled. Oh shit, I thought. I sat up in bed; there was a pile of clothes on the floor either side - mine, on my side, and a stranger's, a female stranger's, on the other. I clamped my eyes shut and dug the heels of my palms into them. What the fuck. Again?
I swung my legs out of bed and opened the drawer of my bedside table. There was still an unopened box of condoms in it. Unopened. Shit, again. I stood and groaned; my head throbbed, my mouth tasted like a garbage dump had puked diarrhea into it. The smell of coffee coming from the kitchen was making my stomach roll over.
Stepping into a pair of sweats, I went into the bathroom and surveyed myself. No black eyes, no split lips. Just an all-American fuck machine. Shit, again. Who was that making coffee? Who's clothes were those? I left the bathroom after a thorough tooth-brushing and bent over the pile of women's clothes.
The panties were pink, the bra was pink, the jeans were dark blue, the top was peach. There as no purse; she probably took it with her into the kitchen. No overprotective mother had stitched this girl's name into her panties. I had nothing. No recollection of this person. Face the music, I told myself.
Opening the bedroom door, I went down the hall to the kitchen. She stood with her back to me, wearing only an old pair of my boxers she must have found in a drawer. Sure enough, her purse was on the counter; next to it was her phone. She didn't hear me come in, so I stood watching her. She was drinking from a mug, she was tall and slim, nice legs. Olive skinned. Black hair. Who the fuck was this girl?
I cleared my throat and stepped forward; she turned, smiling. "Good morning," she said, chipper as a flight attendant. Drawing a blank. She was pretty, green eyes, small lips, small tits. "Morning," I managed. Her teeth were very straight, very white. She might be my dental hygienist, I thought.
"How you feeling this morning?" she asked.
"Bit of a headache," I answered. She laughed.
"I'm not surprised. You really put it away last night," she patted my arm. "Not that it affected your performance any. Wow, is all I can say. That's what I texted my friend when I got up, is that tacky or what?"
I granted it was, but didn't elaborate much. I accepted a cup of coffee from her, her fingers sliding along mine as she passed the mug. She glanced up at microwave clock.
"Shit," she barked. "I've got to get going. I'm showing a house this morning."
"You're a real estate agent?" I ventured. She looked at me puzzled and laughed.
"You really did get shitfaced, didn't you? We talked about real estate for an hour last night."
This was news to me, as I know nothing about real estate, but I am a good faker, especially if there is some ass to be had out of it. But really, I had no memory of this woman, or last night. The idea that I bullshitted about real estate with her, while drunk, for an hour, was utterly bizarre.
She downed her mug, raced back to the bedroom - with her purse and phone - and I heard water running. She emerged ten minutes later in the clothes that had been piled on the floor.
"That was an amazing night. Just what I needed," she cooed, coming close for a kiss. I gave her one; no memories jogged.
"We should do it again then," I ventured. She was hot, certainly, and I had apparently made a good impression.
She lit up like an all-night pharmacy sign. "Yes! I was hoping you'd say that!" She pulled her phone from her back pocket.
"What's your number?" I told her.
Then she smiled like she'd just farted in church and gave me a little nervous giggle.
"Um. What was your name again?" she asked.
More Than Two Broken Hearts
There was the flash of a child's smile. A single candle flickering madly atop a snow-white cake. A flurry of golden leaves sent flying into the air by small bare feet. The tiny fingers of an infant held gently in the palm of a woman. The woman looked up, her silver eyes full of warmth and love, meeting his gaze. A fragile smile crossed her lips. The sun danced with the blonde strands of her hair and autumn went on peacefully behind her. Then there was darkness, pitch-black.
Eyes open, he found himself staring up at the ceiling fan. He watched the blades turn slowly, steadily eating away at his sanity, making him aware of his boredom. Blinking away the traces of his waking dream, he stretched slowly on the couch and turned to face the window. Across from him, staring wistfully out the window was his love. Dead-eyed and just as bored as him, she gave no sign of acknowledging him. He could feel a sensation of bitterness and sour hatred building up within him. It took every bit of his strength to resist his face contorting into a virulent grimace. Immediately denying the anger, he felt emptiness inside of him and he curled up tighter on the couch. He had to say something, anything, but no words came to mind so he stared absentmindedly down at the floor.
"Why?" the sound resonated within the lonely walls of the house and seemed to surprise them both.
What he thought had been a whisper in his head was a dangerous word he had uttered out into the hostile, open air. Fearfully, he looked at the woman and awaited her reaction. There was little to nothing to read in those wide, astonished eyes for a while but there quickly came a flash flood of anger. And he could feel himself responding likewise, his lip curling up and his brow heavy with rage.
He repeated the question, less apologetically this time, "Why?"
She couldn't answer him, but her lip tightened and her muscles tensed, her eyes locked on his, cold and deadly.
He could feel the tears welling up within his soul, but he pushed them down and leaped off of the couch, pointing an accusing finger at his partner.
"We were supposed to protect her!" he snarled.
His wife jumped up defensively and clenched her fist, still unable to respond but no apology written in her eyes.
"We gave her a promise and you took that away!"
Trembling, nails digging into her palms, his wife averted her gaze and stared indignantly at the ground.
"So, dammit, tell me why!"
"I was scared." finally came the simple reply.
Shocked to her a response, he stared at her, stupefied.
"I was scared, okay?" she held herself in trembling arms, biting her lip, avoiding his burning gaze.
"I was here for you." his voice broke and was barely above a whisper. "What more did you want from me?"
She looked up at him, thrown off by the hurt she heard in his words.
"We spent years planning and this is what you decide to do? It was our job to bring her into the world!"
There was only silence to greet him.
He gritted his teeth and turned away from her. His feet were leading him to the door and he didn't resist. His hands on the knob, he felt a heavy weight dragging at his arm and tears falling on his bare hands.
Sandy hair in a mess, pale gray eyes wild and chaotic, she held his hand firmly in her grip.
He snatched his arm away from her, narrowing his eyes at her.
"I don't know who you are anymore."
He opened the door and left, nothing hindered him any further and despite the pain in his chest, he felt a sigh of relief deep within him.
Flesh
“Who shall give us flesh to eat?”—Numbers 11:4, King James Bible
I wake up hungry.
When I look into the mirror, I see a shriveled
corpse looking back—sunken eyes embedded
in a mass of wrinkles; a skeleton with a shrug
of skin, carelessly flung over bones. Strands of
hair still clinging to my scalp. The dog whines
and runs with tail tucked into his belly. Stumble
out of room, down the hall. My hand, a
tortured claw of sinew and bone,
grapples with the white handle of the fridge.
The meats go first—the cold cuts,
the three day old pot roast, the fetid
baloney that only the dog will eat. Use my
nails to shred them all into swallowable bites.
But then it becomes too slow, the act of shredding a
hindrance, and I stuff bigger and bigger pieces
down my throat, choking them down.
Then the dairy—an entire wheel of brie cheese
with the pale waxy skin, and blocks of butter
waterfall it all down with
orange juice and milk,
and then eat the plastic cartons. The plastic is not
unpleasant going down. In fact, I enjoy the crunch.
Empty. Emptiness in spasms, in waves,
with skin stretched like dead things receding into
earth, this broken frame, and jutting concave ribs,
and
this need,
this need,
this need.
Shaking, I reach for the eggs, swallow them one by one.
I leave the fruits and vegetative shit for last—insubstantial air.
The front door opens, my wife calls out a tentative hello,
perhaps she sees the dog pissing itself by the door,
and I turn, double-fisting a jar of mayo, a jar of pickles,
turn to her voice and say, “I’m in the kitchen.”
seventh heaven
1 E N V Y
stretch my neck and scream at god:
"i'll tear you to shreds before i am gone!"
"jealousy, jealousy, fuck you all!"
"kiss on you, piss on you"- farther I fall.
2 G L U T T O N Y
eat your sins and eat your pride
stuff your feelings, quiet your lies
i deserve the beef, the bourbon, the bait.
donations for me, the starving will wait.
3 G R E E D
owe me for being around your dumb flock
for my kindness, quiet and poison sweet talk
i deserve your world, sour liquor and rum
it's never enough; i am queen, you are scum
4 L U S T
hold me close and tell me lies
i'm beautiful and you'll stay with my for life
lick, kick, tumble, tap
screw me; "SCREW YOU!"call it a wrap
5 P R I D E
stick me with your words
"i like it! it burns!"
destroy me, enjoy me, you can't change facts
you can't kill what i don't even have
6 S L O T H
run yourself ragged across hot broken glass
i laugh and scowl while sitting on my ass
stupid, boring; you do what you're told
let me lie, let me die; writhing in the cold
7 W R A T H
i hate you for the horns, tail and regrets
the pain running through hands, foot, chest
it grows, i shrink, i soak in your mad test
insanity!! profanity!! fuck it all, bullets for breakfast.