I am the mother, the father, the child

I am the peace, the tension, the bile.

I am the earth you inhabit, consume

I am the air you inhale and pollute.

I am the water you poisoned then drank.

I am the moon you close your eyes to, 

the sun to which you awake.

I am the blood and the heart and the veins

I am the numbness, the pleasure and pain.

I am your wounds that fester and plague

I am the kiss that sucks it away.

A stone white flight of stairs

Fell my weak bones

Cracked my neck

To save my soul

A window five flights up I'm falling

to touch again this wicked death

Elusive breath this broken landing

One leg hung the other anchoring

To your black nothing

Death deficits and surrender

Ghosts speeding past white walls

To whisper witches squander

Tonight tears drench with sweat

Eyes watch life push

Balance between understanding

Supernatural spectator

These moments reveal brevity

Smooth and slick hair is shining

Black and whist full as the moon is rising

Sleep my dark heavy love

Before this night ends us both

Bubbles and bourbon

Blues and humming

Cracking neck by candlelight

We are barely alive

No space exists between

Broken windows

Beer and collar bones

Blood laid dry upon white stone

I found myself lying on the living room floor. My legs are paralyzed. Counting triangles and squares. Manifested in his lies. Anxiety the doctor once told me. Fuck it. Cigarette burns on quivering arms. Acceptance. The heaviest burden to carry. It's okay. I accept it. I'm not weak. Am I?

And so, I found myself. Stagnant. I am the past. Caffeine tremors and bulimic accusations. I was never aware of the consequences. The illusions of his loving limb. I'm swirling in and out. Above myself. Beneath the burden of his greedy breath. A cold grip of dissociation. Crumbling under his soft lie. I'm numb. Succumbed to waves of my porcelain heart.

"You are so beautiful. This is love. Do you feel how good it is to stroke? Touch. Sense?"

I fall asleep. Trembling in foetal position. I was a child. I am a child!

For him...

Nothing more than illegal satisfaction 

at a level too high 

for my brain to understand...

Between these

      Four walls

The lights dim as

   I shout

I pace and I crawl

      I bleed out in doubt

There’s pages unseen

       And pages unknown

A book that is written

    Yet not fully shown

I really don’t know

     How to calm

         The fuck down

Head in the clouds

Feet reaching

       For ground

A trial by fire

    A flame

       For the masses

As the court

     Of your sire

Is flicking

     The matches

They pull on the strings

       Your arm raises up

They pour and

       Serve the drink

You reach for the cup

Eyes blinking with

       Anxiety

Enough is enough

     To Hell with

       Sobriety

This bullshit is rough

I break down

     And rebuild

          As you take

              What you want

Payroll locked and sealed

     All my hard work

You haunt

   The systems all

        Wrong

And fuckin deranged

And seems

   So far gone

To believe in

   A change

You blow on

     Your trumpet

Yes these words are true

      I will just say fuck it

And not bow

     To you

Not an elephant

      Nor a donkey

They’re all pigs

    With a crump

My only hope

     Is America can

        Depend

              On a Trump

Daniel

      Jacob

            Dabney

And

  My

     Fucked

        Up

          Mind

             November

                  2016

Too many

       Questions

             And not enough

       Answers

It’s like

      Sitting idle

            Surrounded

        By dancers

We live

        And we try

               And we sigh

                    Every time

             As the world

     Slams on brakes

That could stop

      On a dime

And it’s like

      Every time

             It’s a new

                    Damn

                       Experience 

It builds

     And it builds

As it adds

        To the weariness

But time

       Doesn’t stop

              It keeps

                   Going

          And going

And you’re stuck

              With 

                   The paddles

Keep rowing

         And rowing

You’re caught in

  The

     Current 

          And going

                  Upstream

And what falls

    Out of

           The boat

You could

Never

                    Redeem 

       You want to

Give in

    Because living

Is

           So 

              Hectic

But in truth

     The water is

Still

       And becoming

                    More septic

   You weren’t born

          With a sail

  So now it’s

     Sink

         Or swim

As your false

   Lighthouse 

        Is becoming

               More

                        Dim

There’s no

   Slowing down

               And there's no

Giving up

Unless you

   Choose

        To

            Drown

In this

Half

        Empty cup

Daniel

          J

Dabney

       And

            You

                 Fucking

                        Know

                What's

Up