the purge

get lost

Love

away with you

i’ve packed your bags

your cab is called

get the fuck out of my way

let me place

my bourbon on this table

and no i don’t use your coasters

i’m done with you

i refuse to wait

no more a fool

my time is out

for years and years

and seven fold

i crawled on knees

i soiled my soul

for you to hold me

i yearned for you

i cried for you

i died for you

so many many times

and in the darkest times

when i thought you cared

you tricked me

with a warm hand

a kind lie

or a fake kiss

i ran away

and groveled

and that one time

a torrid past

with three or four

i shared your bed

thinking i was special

but now i’m grown

and have found

a better lover

he’s cold and dull

and never calls

but never yells

or hits or tells

me how imperfect i am

i adore him

the only loyal one

Solitude

vulnerable

hey it rains

at 2 a.m.

and for some

reason i think

about you love

what are you

you are what

i feel you

to be in that dark corner

hiding behind dust bunnies

from when he last opened the door

and left me

a crumb of life

his fedora was camel tan felt with a gray ribbon around the crown he missed a tooth or two skin dolphin blue ashy like the flick of a Cuban cigar he belonged at that piano bar he had always been there an entity but every end of a lifetime he’d take on another body and the fedora man would return to the same old black stool sagging with confessions of past souls bemoaning life and living being a junkie i was on the look out to see if he could be trusted the old man spoke English but our real conversation was on another level we understood each other with our eyes we were all intuition instinct pulse gut feeling we were cons used to the streets i wasn’t stable material i thunk too much he wasn’t to be trusted he assumed too little one day we both happened to be there i told the owner who wore fake diamonds and bee stung eyes i’m just a grad student from Harvard can i stay and scope things out what do you study she asked hoping i might be a doctor her jowls exploded with pride that someone with class and money could be among her crowd yes psychologist i lied i lied oh how i lied old fedora was there wearing a black as night striped suit with shiny shoes the kind they wore in Paris long ago as they ran to catch the frantic trains heading for Lisbon when my mother was a little girl i must have had a wild imagination too many old Hollywood flicks i suppose he was just a dirty old man and i a junkie student just wanting waiting     

tallith

at moon’s end

i find myself

trying to stitch

back together

what i so vehemently

spent so many years

tearing apart

the light is subtle

too feeble for me to thread

needles of apology

remorse or redemption

yet i continue on

finger tips pale

pricked by bitter reminder

of gaping tears

i tore into the fabric

of decency and self-dignity

with offerings of woolen prayers

i attempt to mend and patch

a heart sullen with snags and rips

to no avail

on most any day

then every so often

the rays of light

knit me a magnifying glass

and in subtle ways

i toil at weaving

a better human fabric

for myself

of which i make offerings

of tzitzit embroidered with the shame

of tails in between my walking legs

with seams of hope

that mercy will be granted

at the ending of my new day

stella mori

universe so dark

just like in my room tonight

stars so far away

room 5307

time marches like ants in a row

seconds stop to greet each other

disrupting the flow

blood swims in the veins

circulating with the aide

of medical hope all know is

just hollow

thoughts flicker in and out
off and on about all the things
universal in continuums of time

there are scratch marks

on the legs where the itch

laughs with determination

caverns in the deepness of the mind

thoughts some bland and some strong

demons torture with hallucinations

of what the heart despises more

the noise they make

those tendrils as they wrap

their wicked fingers round

the mind unquiet with grief

the four letter kit

mind your etiquette and dress you tarty mess alcoholic in wedding veil left to rot in obscurity behind SS Kress dumpster fiendish queen of violent dream three tours in the cardiac desert come home we’ve no passion for your kind that’s ok i take what i can get karma super bitch with pretty face we get what we deserve my mind is just a wasteland one step two step five step six look down at the sky while the air hits my feet swirling up blood drops on the cuff rational decisions are best served late into the night the bats are hiding near in the tall and ancient magnolia trees with falling fruits into the stream of all thought that crosses here insanity wears lace and stirs that flames of cold remorse of atomic fences way up on the hill hashtags for all reasons but what’s the use if we all like to market pain for glamour and enrichment and my teeth go down the drain

heart of the matter

i love going to the hills

atop Silver Lake

where i can see Hollywood

my home my western shore

my dusty concrete paths

winding with a promise

to all that we are alive

in the City of Illusions

and that life is no illusion after all

paradox is my goddess

and Los Angeles my church

my habit was my pope

and my grit was my curse

perhaps we all strive

to go back home to reconcile

the hemorrhaging broken vein

and that’s all we want

conditional love

i guess i’ll see you

3 am works for me too

when you get here

climb into bed

shock my soul awake

with your cold hands

gunmetal lips upon my neck

your left knee shucking

my reluctant legs open

we say a few false words

we disagree on stupid things

and we pretend that we are civil

when all we are

when all we have been

are two wild and seething animals

needing to get fucked

to release pain and rejection

and forget the wars that we have fought

why are we so afraid

you even more so than me

why do you come here

what could i possibly offer

that you haven’t already had

from better women

is it my cunning

my tortured soul

my soldier mentality

or my willingness

to be your whore

in your world

i am nothing

you are king

in my world

you still don’t know

i exist and i laugh

at the complexity

of your thoughts

and your offerings

your confusion as to who

i am

let me tell you who i’m not

unlike the others

i will not play a part

you can’t dress me up

change how i breath

what i smoke what i drink

i

will

not

follow you around

send you love letters

or get a manicure

you want your cock sucked

you know i’m game

and like a good little baller

you know how i play

before the tantric show you want

i need to feel your collateral in me

bite me squeeze me hold me down and tease me

i won’t look into your eyes

because that’s when our problems start

the hearts start beating

like they’re one

and then you go and leave me

libertin lâche

kiss my cheek

lie to me

mercy given tonight

losing something

not mine

Sweet poison

sweet poison

one dishonest caress

i know

you’ll run

to her

raven beauty

young supple

mind big tits

and designer smile

it’s ok

i play the game

i’m banging

the green eyed philosopher

on Wilcox place

can we just be honest

it’s ok for me to say

i like sex

it’s ok

for you to have lady friends

as long were all cool with it

and take responsibility

of not spreading germs

or making sweet babies

to suffer in vain

i know i started off nice

life is not nice

but we can be nice

if that’s what we want

the philosopher knows

you know about him

it’s ok if you bring her

i like your touch a lot

love is for others

but not for my heart