it's almost the end of july.
short (mais long as it could be).
stop!
the same.

sitting needles.
You know, the ones that prick your thighs
and whisper "do something"
And you sit and wonder.
what exactly am i supposed to do?


porch nights.
bed nights.
alone nights.
fight nights.
sit & cry nights.
also. another person nights.
down & together.
touch them,
file them away,
for later use (remembrance).


"Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke. "
f.s. fitzgerald

share your bod.
live some life.
yeah yeah yeah.

a small frog lodges itself in my throat. a dry scream. a call for help.
wide-eyed and worthless, what will you do?
sleep now. close your eyes and then puff your way into my lungs.
lay there. lie and lie. do not open your mouth.
I die. You know I could. And you would die too, grafted into my skin,
my cells, my awkward limbs, the unfortunate body which
has to move and convince a stranger I am worthy of love.

little green monster, tiny hidden peek of rumbles and soft skin
I repent, I take it back, open your lips and tell me
I am a bright piece in this awful wreckage.
and tell those others, please tell them,
they have no business here.
I do not want them anymore,
or ever again.

----------
written sunday night.
today is tewzday (it's really not monday)
tomorrow will be windzday.
& on & on & on.


-----------------------------------
(buzz for a cliche)
-coll, this is a reminder that something was
here, that you need to remember, but don't
need to type out in full-

odd or even.

if we subtract you,
it's a clean 100th victory.
it's hard to say whether
or not i've always admired
multiples of ten
or if i do now,
because it doesn't include
a plus 1.

-----
coffee grounds. stomach pain.
5-6 moths saved.
where the hell is leo?
or megatron for that matter.

here.

it's raining.
always.