xxy.

the lethal kind.

st(e)m.

give me your hips, please.
you don't need them,
be honest
give my your hips, please
you don't need them
be honest

silence rose
(like the others)
count it, it's easy

because you're so perfect
i'm building your stem

because
you can count it,
it's easy
it's like mouth mathmatics

i can't defend your spine
when it's not mine

blood is your blood
is my blood is my blood
and it's obvious.

mecca.

saturday nights at the hotel are always a bit strange.
the tension is palpable,
everyone is eager to either sleep with someone,
drink with someone,
eat with someone,
get away from someone,
or reuinte with someone.
some are spoiled,
some are kind,
some are memorable,
and some i won't remember five minutes after checking them in.

i wonder what guests are secretly gay.
or who is a prostitute.
or who is making a baby at this very moment.
or if anyone is getting murdered,
falling in love,
breaking up,
or simply just watching tv.

this hotel is not just simply that.
it's a four story mecca of emotions.

goodbye holiday.

this hotel is making me like humans a lot less.








it's time to leave.

canal.

in an effort to run away from things,
i write about old times
and old things
and old faces
and old bodies
and old hearts
and old music
and old houses
and old carpet
and old, old, old.

until i finally have no memories left,
and i have to confront that same old dance.
solitaire
and your mistress.
the empty cavity.
root canal gone wrong.

sparien.

but wait,
you're not a sparrow?

and my father said,
"when life gets hard, it's only testing your metal".

stem.

and forever.
september.
the walks to work in the rain or ash.
on my ears, heavy headphones where everything was ultimatly blocked out.
thank god.
i could not hear you.
when all i did was think of a stranger who was beautiful but
beyond anything i could ever handle...
neverending
i was 18.

and october.
lying in my room with the low lights on
and music music music
always staring at me.
the carpet was a part of my skin,
i held it close and worshiped the strands left imprinted on my cheek.
i took some drugs back then
and called her on the phone
trying to describe the muscles of my chest
or my collarbone,
in other words secretly wishing that they would come over.
i was 22.

november.
the whole world had came crashing down.
at a time when age meant nothing.
and sunsets were my favorite thing,
i
owned
them.
i did. and i had proof, i tell you.
_____ and i , we would drive on the freeway, telling lies
screaming verbs into the air
our arms scaling the sky.

and i would go to the bookstore, alot that fall.
and search out for hungry readers so that we could pick apart each other.

give me your hips, please.
give me them.
give me your lips, please.
you don't need them.
because you are so perfect,
i'm building your stem.