Maybe you’re right, and this hangover’s why
my brittle life feels twisted into something
it isn’t. But since you know everything, tell me:
when is there time or comphrehension for me to hold you
in the knowledge of all I know –
Fill the spaces between my words.
Hold my stare in your pocket
like a pearl
only you have access to.
Everything I do
is not for you,
but if it was
would you float through life like a hummingbird,
suspended in a world of sugar,
into every crevice the world keeps for itself.
Untwist me babe, I’m tired.
My life is heavy with the realization that suffering is inevitable.
You can’t blame me for drinking,
for hugging too long.
Anger is only natural b/c everything&everyone
is in the way of the words I dream to say but can’t.
Only if I could round out my life
into those defining moments –
Like a mayfly I’d wake up
kiss my wife&mom (not necessarily in that order)
then plunge down as the world evaporates in front of me.
Make me a cloud so no one will see me drift through life.
My world crescendos when its quiet so speak up.
Drown me in fish-kisses.
Hold me up in that scrutiny you reserve for leggings.
Knead me deeply: Chicago-style.
Carve me into your memory
not like a bathroom name please,
but more like my half-whistle you half-love&half-hate;
not exactly but something like that ok ok,
one last thing:
these words lie closest to life
for me, besides you,
and if I had to choose