on sundays time gets funny

loneliness is embarrassing. it’s important. it’s love. it’s blood.

it’s a god rushing in your ears like an ugly train track

for the unlucky, of course.

i stole this loneliness from you

and made it mine.

i took on the world’s loneliness

and became a beast.

i grew into him easily.

i knew what it meant to be foul.

the children were right -

the world is good

but all stories must have a villain.

the world is good and i crawl in its walls

like a horrible thing.

there is a rotten-eyed god

who kisses me to sleep

leaves me lovestruck

smokes a cigarette while i lie awake.

lover, i am at this intersection,

waiting in the busy crossroads of time

to cross the street.

find me in the darkness,

find me at the red light,

find me as a drunk driver,

just find me.

do not rest

until i am in your apartment

shivering from the rain

like a wet dog.

will you save me?

is this something i can ask of you?

find me in rush hour traffic.

on a crowded street

lost in translation

and messy at the lines.

dare i ask you to decode me?

to sit me down on your moth-eaten couch

and read me like a worn-out book?

i do contain stories

but you may not want to read them.

they are sad, mostly.

i need to write myself out of this one.

i need to write a novel, or a prayer.

something to chew on

when the days get cold.

i’ve learned to hold loneliness in my mouth

like a cat with a mouse

like prey

like the battle is over, which, of course,

is a lie.

i’ve learned all the falsehoods in the world

and taken them on as my own.

when you strip me down

and put me to bed

there will be nothing left of me

to kiss softly.