12/11: Subconscious Explorations (5 untitled poems)

1.

Because once the pain has dripped and dried

and I’m empty inside

 

I beg the flowers grow

‘tween the cracks in pavement

 

i beg for stepping

stamping boots

on

and over

so i can break my back 

for

a stem for

for

a petal for

just? just for

 

for just one petal

for just

the one 

and for one

a crease in her spine

to make the shape

 

and i’ll paint the glue

and i’ll watch it dry

and i’ll watch me die

 

from an inside



2.

my bellybutton reeks

umbilicals and tears

lint and wax

a midnight oil burns

a qtip digs and searching

for gold

amidst a river

in blood

and chewed and spit

placenta

 

fuck the cotton fuzz

the isopropyl

i’ll clean

me clear

i’ll sift the mud

i’ll scrape the cold 

the rock

the bottom

the drown

the save

the hope

 

to dig and be pulled

intestine at both ends

of anything if it’s there

feeling lost air

the brisk breeze

a nail on slate

or my finger in too 

kind not yet too old

man’s nose

hair

ripping 

bubbles

 

so we can die 

together

gasping

for water

 

gulping entrails

and butter



3.

the fat is what she needs

and hates

and her voice curdles

and churns

and she isn’t even there

 

or she was already left

but still she was there

and everywhere

she is in the milk when it stirs

and when it foams

she was there

 

spinning silk

to tell the coffee 

grinds

dry 

and go

come back again

and do the same

and give it more

now make it blacker

no not as bitter

and not as cold too hot too steam

this isn’t lactaid and sugar

will kill you like sidewalks and family love and friends too

wet the filter

still damp. shit.

brown water 

the cigarette smoke

net in your hair

 

and don’t forget the beard

 

and don’t forget to shave

the shit curd mustache on your face

it isn’t there

4.

bubble bubble bubble

cauldron in my chest

please don’t let me cause you trouble

 

i won’t

i promise

don’t mind 

me

 

i’ll die 

here

in this stew

of tiny toys

i picked them up 

for you

and put them in the bath

with bubbles too

 

if it’s too hot for me

it’s just right for you

5.

his is in my ears

so red again and fire

tipping at every curve

canals

steering magma

behind them too

and under

the limestone bridge

 

a broken neck

cocked a crack left

asleep in z’s

its sitting

on the foot

of a bed

raised 15

°

somehow

is mine

from somewhere

my weight that leans

a boulder/roll right

at the ready

just like a dream

 

daydreaming work

working and love

of toil

oil

blister

skin

raisins

raised chars

they feel 

 

like not at all

or maybe feel

like a name

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