--[[the witness dreams in shards while I dream of nothing
                                    her catacomb whispers, systematic endearing
                                   last night she tore the river into shards of a mirror
                                   shattering everything I had to offer, blood spills --

waltzing down the altar

                 in an ultraviolet magnitude,                                      these things
                 you can’t see but harm                                            you, these ghosts
                 that waited til it was too late to                                repent.

these twilighted rings that give us wormholes
                                                                               instead of sight
bring me only bane-- and this tedious weight
                                                                            upon my shoulders,
                                                              her fingers so iced tooth cold

to the touch, she used to be so soft, I remember,
                                she used to be composed of soft violins and chelos
                                and is now covered in pins in needles,
                                far sharp and out of key,                       why don’t you

                 redeem me and revive me, it’s past my

          time. let me begin again. if i was to riserise
--rise from the dead let these shackles that keep
me in bed release me. i am angel wings that spread
in feather loss blisters and reddened wounds
--oh, what has been done to you? tell me what have they done I--

                    he heals me graciously as he presses his lips to mine
                    he tastes of braille and liquor and as sweet
as crescented wine. was he always so charming or was it the architect’s
                    design? or perhaps his swaying intoxication that leads us
                    like a magnet to keep him company in his fine delusions. he consistantly
reminds me of willows as he speaks in only poetry, his eyes
                    are sad but his thin lips, red, are smiling. sturdy
                    bridges are made of triangles of steel and lead while he is made of
                    unstable rhombuses, yet so platinum, so gold, so neon vivid and
as he collapses he will shine. these sunlight rays won’t hold it up
                    for me and the earthquake seas only bring me down, how he’s
                    swept me up only to be swept in and as I scatter his ashes
perhaps, I decide, it was better like this
                    anyway. I get over my hangovers and leave. golden

gates were never golden but a rusty river red. love
                                                        f
                                                          l
                                                     o
                                                         w
                                                               s
                     bright and vivid but I’m still not quite sure what those words
mean. if the future has flying cars and distant galaxies i
wonder just how tongue tied and out of touch
             we’ll be. perhaps she’ll remember me; perhaps she’ll
             send me letters, perhaps she’ll send me glaciers, perhaps
                          she’ll send me frozen petals but she never sends
me love--a trivial, extinct thing nowadays, its skeleton
                                       all broken and never intact, its marrow long ago rotted
                          and it always leaves such a horrible stench behind
                                       and such an inconvenience to those whom it
relates. the eulogy is in silence as the agony
                          equates us. we shake hands--unwashed and
                                       unsewn and over disposed, tossed recklessly
                          and hidden in soft curves and molten flesh I have
                                       touched, deactivate, terminate, cell walls crushed I

--((have been penetrated. I can feel it-- from the very tip
of my spine to the inside of my cell where I have
been invaded and wrecked. if I become a clone use me
and discard me even if I plead for mercy-- this will is
no longer in existence, this time and place and commute is too much
for me and my trachea has collapsed. i only speak like
a fish out of water, in raspy vowels, unpronounced and
decomposed and I know this was all her idea. she smiles
with those warm lips--vivid bright red,  I see, but then what
does that make love?--but a myth, but a dead thing beyond
this grave? her lips are poison secret, how this
envy consumes me, how she entrances you and slips
you under and ruins you. her lashes are thick, her
legs are thin, and her smile is sly and hidden and by
the time you see it it’s too late. snakebite. she comes))--

                                                    without warning and without rattle. she winks but I
                                             still don’t know her plan. she gets what she wants and
                                  you never know when she leaves. she drops you suddenly
                                              and you fall like a bomb. she remains unsuspected in
                                                  sandstorms that flow to her linguistics and holds the
                                                        stars in her hands. each constellation reflects her
                                          and each black hole creates her and cut her by the leash.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;you never spoke for yourself and you always seemed
so out of touch, so out of reach so           out              of
breath,           recycle and resuscitate. he is the
                      paper sack and I am the                        shaven lamb. the ice
         age is slithering its way                   over the horizon line and
                      i can feel it on my skin-- her nails graze against me again,
       her soft legato silhouettes, her vocal chords stretch and
                            rebound until there’s nothing left and the next thing                  i know
i’m frozen solid, so hallow                                                yet so

heavy. we speak in words that don’t exist, we talk of
things we know nothing of, we listen to empty voices
down the hallway that we can’t even hear                                                             and we
mourn only the few things we haven’t lost, our

                     sanity no longer among them. it dwindles every year.
                                      the code is morse and my voice is hoarse and
                                      his name is engraved all over the walls. i don’t
                                       i don’t i don’t (i can’t) the doorbell sings, of my death

and solitude. i suffer loss of bone tissue and
sovereignty. he sleeps in the shelves and keeps
his secrets filed word by word in paper
                                                   shredders. his postponed vowels and antecedents
                                                   remain unpronounced and so desecrated. here
                    i am.               --in your books and undusted cupboards,
                                                      in every glass that whispers with an open
                                             wind, in every bone that creaks in your brittle
                                                      body and you can’t stop it at all. i am your
                   antagonist,        your poltergeist, your                             cynical reminder.

i am your deadliest of sins and the liveliest
                            (//(dark)//) secret in your closet.                          you know where i am--

i’m in your every dream and                        nightmare, i whisper
bitter sweet nothings in your ear until you                                fall
asleep, and you know, you                                          know, you
know and you know how it pains you. despite
your will you give me all                                  your worlds and all
your blisses and i give you the most                                 poison
of kisses and you take them and i’ll take
everything you’ve got.                                            you lock me in
your basement and throw                                         away the key but i--

always slink back through the cracks in the door
             and repent wistfully, the splintering slivers in your heart.
             i’m here to damn you and to haunt you and to
             drive you to the point of insanity. one day long
ago                  when the sun was just beginning to rise
and                  the stars still lingered in the sky like tipsy
hung over       things, I quenched, and you pulled
             out a gun and shot me in the rib cage and I used
to dream         about flying but in my dreams I felt
             so much freer and so much more
alive.                i keep you awake in your sleep, alive

                                                    --...but only in your dreams, i love you and hate
                                                      you and fly right by you and send shivers down
                                  your spine, until not even the most blazing of summers
                                                      could warm you, not even one degree, you have
                                     shattered beneath my feet. you walked all over me once
                                                      and since then i was bent on revenge. you’ve taunted
                                               me and flaunted me and have
                                                      thrown me down and fucked me up. i have
                                                      indulged and condoled and you shake--but
                                   to nothing. you cough to the dust and sing of
                                   your name I spread on pillow sheets, you never
                                                      slept on at night. your fist, your knuckle, your brow
                                              was of cracked porcelain on the counter. the cup of coffee
                                                      has turned cold and solid and all that remains is your tainted
                                         malice. you remind me of her sometimes--

with twisted lips and twisted hips and twisted
lies and t w i s t e d                     eyes, she’d walk all over me and love
                       me and hold me and laugh as I fall. she was even worse
                  to him. he seemed so lustful yet so innocent but she lusted
                     only for blood, her only need. she whisked him away with
                              a silver knife and fed on the energy of his life and by
that time mine had already gone away. i remember it well
                                                                                --you remember nothing
                                                   and you leave nothing left at all,
                         you’ve skinned me alive and now I’m skidding on
                                       dry ice, my self-anticipated incidents have turned me
                                   inside out and on the loose and as I fade I
                                                    leave this wrath behind me.