broken bottle

spider’s web on the corner
the dust and sunlight dance
a waltz
cracks in my bones books on my shelves chipped polish on my nails
the spider has gone to another land and i wonder if she was a pilgrim looking for God as well
not in the mood for anything to eat i sit and watch my cat sneak around the tables
silence in my heart and in the windows purple orange skies
no particular need for any promise i’m quite grown up
and think beyond those silly things
but every now and then the feeling flutters like a moth outside his lantern how did time
escape from me
ah yes a broken glass
in the midst of my heart

if Dylan knew

Zimmy has an old soul

if you look at his eyes

they are other worldly

the color of Earth’s face

from up in space

it means just what is

but when i heard him this morning

while drinking my mud

these words telegraphed

out from Alexa .1

“Oh my name it ain’t nothin’
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I was taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side”

the shame i felt

rose to waterlines of my

green lined eyes

and the liquid it spilleth over

perhaps it’s the hormones

or the brow beat quarantine

and my cat she ate the dog’s food

but i couldn’t tell her to quit

shaking it off

turning the vacuum on

the dog he shakes his

fluffy white tail

and my thoughts run asunder

white hot sun beaming

brown wood flooring

a meeting of the titans

debacled by the cat

does God pick sides

Nutella

fruit

lavash

rye bread

ramen

and a good fuck while i’m on top

chewing on ice

these things that i like

why am i this way

could it be in black vain

that i ask these strange questions

a dandelion of thoughts

cast into the humidity

answers might or might not

germinate

does God get to decide

from where do i find

recourse for sinning

early i rise

eating my heart out

doing what’s right

one moment gets wasted

my faith goes in haste

my spirit is stuck wild horses help me am i on God’s side

the Alsephinas

my eyes deep into the looking glass they go
the crevice on my throat regulates my breath so slow
bones my genetic frame from the Danube it came
a girl with a mind of her own but her thoughts are filled with white carnations and light pink madness
stuffed into a blue and gold Chinese vase they go
ivory exquisite bones of beasts and mastodons fixed into the old red velvet settee
ivory silks drape my milky skin past my finger tips dipped in obsidian tears
the bench that holds my weight a fancy rosewood filigreed trophy
my deeply regretful eyes slide over to the compromised canopy bed made with hate and lies
there where on some deceitful night opened legged and mouth shut tight
i am supposed to worship you
more is endless breath is tight
nervous docile night
let’s walk into the light
we forever have been everything
we are daughters of the fight

*thank you Christine at braveandrecklessblog and HereticsLoversandMadmen for posting this piece first for the I Am More Than Breath and Bone prompt

in other news

rain pitter patters on the window if i look hard enough i can see tiny cat nose triangles and pomegranate shaped paw prints and another angel died

the high school music class saxophone huffs through into my room and the virtual eight grade students cheap ass marijuana wafts in too while another angel dies

the mayor explains how critical the strain is on the county and how we hold hands and fight from our couch as another angel died

the smell of my books and the pills that i took colors of my mind are tired and somber angels dying left and right

ventilators generators procreators thieves and hope beauty mud Your Kingdom come and another angel died

and if i make it past this trip i’ll still click on channel blank brains and angels will still die

a feather

back in the day of orange koolaid and Brady Bunch dreams candy cotton and carburetors diamonds pills and fancy ladies the news and no direct tomorrow TV dinners multiplex sorrows mop top slinky singer crooned in silky voice to the effect of time having no patience but i don’t blame those frigid tocking ticker arms because i’m a slow floating feather from a city bird molting from the Eiffel Tower statue sitting on any trinket shelf on Hollywood boulevard and through the fibers of the strain i struggle float away slowly in a deafening rage tickling the balls of all those who pose to be the royal peacock

memorandum

would it make life easier for you if i said outloud what i’d rather just share with you

would it make you a bigger man if i would publish all of my missteps and ineptitudes

do you deserve to know how much you mean to me the tears i’ve shed the drugs i dared to impress you

do you care about my thoughts my feelings my decrees or what i see around this word

if what you want is to fuck and bolt pretend that there was nothing wrong

if all you want is to get a title of renaissance man a golden plaque with gilded letters and pretty words

that’s not really me i’m now buried in a cold dark life locked in under the headstone you chiseled for me etched with nothing meaningful

kleiner clown

stars twinkle quietly pretty shards of diamonds distorted by millions of eons away from my finger tips

surfing in my mind thinking of my mom Lou Reed starts to rise and my heart falls apart

the bitter melancholy comes in sputters black roses start to wilt

thoughts float about in icy sky line no snow or eastern blocks in California

my mother where did she go where was i left to the mercy of the gravity among the milky way

Klaus Nomi sits in shiny triangle black space to my right singing opera lullabies

the water from my eyes wells up but doesn’t spill instead it boils down to dust which i use to bury myself no more lingering on

reading books of talismans in the pitch of the darkest part of night purple pinks blues and blacks

with the soot from the bottom of my foot i draw a wide smile upon the center of my soul

where in daylight for your pleasure will always be radiant