A postcard

Seven years ago,
You saw the first green glimmer of an exit sign.

And you sprinted,
Tumbling down the stairs just outside the door,
Escaping the smoke, sure, escaping the fire,
Exchanging chronic coughing fits for a kaleidoscope of concussions,
Bursting before your eyes like stars.

And there was no instinct to catch yourself,
Grab the railing,
Brace your arms against the steel,
You saw only the vision of an exit sign,
And all that it promised.

And you were happy to have forearms,
Painted like watercolors,
Happy for the swelling in your brain,
Happy for the memories to loosen,
Nailed down for so many years,
You were happy for the change.

Clotting

There is a lazy kind of awareness as the syringe pierces my skin like a pebble thrown into water.

Ripples of discomfort and euphoria flow through my fingers, and you rest your head on my shoulder, watch the vessels contract, life-giving conduits shying away from the sudden intrusion with equal parts curiosity and fear. I feel the pressure of your lips as you smile into the fabric of my shirt, a mess of mumbled words ratting your hair with infatuation and desire, bearing witness to our steady chemical metronome.

Cellular soldiers rush to close the breach, but our enemy has long since vanished, slipping through the crowded capillary streets. My ventricles are flung open, floating like kites, suspended, catching the breeze from your carelessly thrown kiss and trapping its essence like powder in my nostrils, stale and chemical, rife with dangerous potential.

The vessel swells, and the clot begins to form.

bedsheets

Random rambling from crossword clues,
non-sequitur trivia,
jaded exasperation.

We grow tired of each other as I drink myself to rage,
find solace in sweet sadness,
turn down the corners of your mouth like motel bedsheets.

The rhythm of your disappointment is a metronome,
a series of drops,
blurring the ink on my skin.

Midnight eyes

Shameful,

seeping slowly through pockmarked regret

routine maintenance of routine self destruction 

sipping as we overflow 

I feel you exhale in my arms

And I clutch the pattern of your breath

Rhythmic and stale

Weaving safety nets of mumbled adoration 

Can you catch me from this height?

Keep me static?

Press your weight against my shoulder

As we sink together

Shameful,

soaking in our pride and reckless beauty 

steeped in stumbling sidewalks and midnight eyes

pulse

Watching you dance

Across the room

To a song that's playing

Only in your head

Singing lyrics with your lips

But your body writes in paragraphs

Piece together pages

Of the world beneath your skin

And when you move

The world, it moves around you

Moving with the pulse

Of the blood beneath your skin

And you carve out silent canvases

Painted thick with motion

As you piece together pages
With the color in your veins

stale air

there are soundtracked conversations between us where I see future in your eyes and taste love on your breath like a fog. these words are fossilized, purified, prescribed for my own abuse. I fill a needle with nostalgia and follow the usual process:

deep breath in, exhale

fresh oxygen mixes with the stale air in my veins, takes the pain down just enough to stay conscious. I hold my breath to feel every moment that will never return, reveling in the backdrop of fireworks exploding across my eyelids.

deep breath in

going numb

I can feel myself, sinking again into something blurry and familiar, like holding my head beneath water, watching the spots form behind my eyelids, holding my breath, going numb with your taste on my mouth, my tongue touching every syllable you moaned, fingers grazing every piece of hair you pulled, something blurry and familiar, each deliberate step, holding my breath, tired of air, tired of breathing every syllable you moaned, sinking again into something, blurry and familiar, going numb.

concrete

Your fingers match the panic in your voice
sending Morse code spinal taps
"please come back"

As I'm leaning out
my second story window
And I'm smiling at the sunset
through the trees

And the only thing
that's keeping me
From meeting concrete
Is your fist clenching
the shirt that's on my back

And the moment hangs between us

Rushing adoration

I hear the heavy breath,

Of this creeping buzz,

While it clambers over white enamel

Tap the nerve,

Spike my bloodstream,

Inhale, 

Fill my chest with embarrassment 

At the strength of experience,

The rushing adoration of this altered state,

Flushing cheeks, 

Twitching finger patterns,

Spelling love and decay. 

Never knows

My love is painful,

My love could grab your throat

My love, it never knows 

When to stop and when to squeeze

My love is thick,

My love could stop your heart

My love will fill your veins

My love will stop your heart

My love is deep,

My love cannot resist

My love would paw at every door

My love would scratch at every brick

My love is bright,

My love illuminates

My love will scorch each rod and cone

My love will boil your irises

My love is tired,

My love exhausts

My love, it never knows

When to stay and when to go