Tuesday, June 4, 2013

i snuck a couple extra for good measure and to keep me awake until inappropriate hours visiting lines and sonnet by a boy who is thought to be long forgotten and i will have to tell you that he is to sneak into your bed at night only to find you sweating out fine wine and spirits and opiate antagonists the sunlight is harsh there but your breathing is even and i fold into myself then a rat appears in your kitchen skip the fast paced song for "i just had to die" and heave your being into the closest porcelain toilet bowl the people i am closest to lie about their age when i first meet them and i have been the same age since my dad was put into the ground and every year that i can't drive myself to lay out flowers or down the street to buy cigarettes that you work so i can smoke do i have the same genes will that infliction come for me
i'm not asleep yet am i keeping you
i have to turn around and pull myself back around 
where was i
in your bed in your mouth in a crumpled ball behind the couch 
did i ever tell you that the women my dad took to be my new mother spit in my face when i was little and every time i see your taillights i'm wiping my preteen hand across my face over and over 
are you still sleeping or have i disturbed you 
i am afraid to stop because i am afraid what will come after i tell you to read this and i ask you what time it is in alaska and tell you that my phone won't capitalize i's anymore from pawing at your phone from four hours apart 
when you lose yourself in a fairytale in the middle of the night is it still considered a daydream? a silver tooth keeps time around my neck and the ghosts are at it again