blood blister

"GAH!"

im clenching my teeth tight enough to hear them squeak as i cradle my hand, staring incredulously at my palm. not quite my palm, really its that first crease at the base of my index finger. the pointer finger.

a bruise is welling up and a dark pocket of blood is now pushing up against the leathery skin. i drop the offending wrench onto the thin carpet. it had a dear temperament, i just must have pushed it too far and it snapped, nipping my weak skin.

"this room is giving me vertigo."

"well its an old farmhouse, its to be expected. i think. at least its not as bad as dip in the other room. that thing has a goddam gravitational pull. you walk in and just stumble."

im the last out the door and forget to turn the light off as we shamble down the treacherous stairs. steep and narrow, the lightbulb in the hallway long burnt out, the same thin carpet so slick with wear that if you yawn or even blink, its almost a guaranteed ticket on the rug burn express with a quick stop in you-just-knocked-the-wind-out-of-yourself-and-now-you-must-lie-here-helpless-at-the-bottom-of-the-stairs-waiting-to-catch-it-again ville.

"i told you about when i fell down the stairs two summers ago, right?"

we left sloppy tracks on the white tile floor that would dry as the hours crawled by, though no stain would remain.

comprehend

my eyes were burning from all the smoke in the room but i didnt pay any attention to what was going on. i could still hear everyone laughing and walking around.
all the faces were too pink and covered in an alcohol sheen and various other substances illegal and legal and you can almost feel the tension hanging in the air. it makes those short hairs on the back of your neck crackle with electricity and every gaze is met with a round stare. thick black pupils and slim color lapping around the outside. hard white sclera.
bloated eyes still wanting more.

not so much walking as slumping against the wall, melting on arm chairs. molding into the couches. no one bothered to take their shoes off anymore, your toes would be numb from the puddles of melting snow and the lack of heat anyway.

i had my head in my arms, and i felt the cigarette burning the filter in my fingers. my head was too heavy to pick up and my fingers were too thick to move. it can burn, there's still time.

the vocalist was yelping along to the track that was hurtling through space, all those little white pin pricks whizzing by your head at a fantastic pace and spinning along the milky way.

no one will pull over for you to puke. and there arent any rest stops along this stretch of the road.
the next stop isnt for six years.

anyone asking if your okay doesnt receive a response. why bother. they dont care. their drink is getting warm in their hand and you are too busy getting colder on the table.

the whole room is spinning.
please, i just want to go home. i just want to go to bed.




i can taste my heartbeat in my mouth.

hunting for witches

there is a peculiar sensation in my blood tonight.
i want to jump up as soon as the elevator starts to go down
i want to taste my last meal in my throat

it feels grainy when i swallow and its hard not to cough.
i want to hold onto your hand while i pull myself up.
i know its awkward but at least the toliet stays in the same spot

each dream is my shadow
its no different when i wake up and forget where i am.
you fall asleep in the same bed you did the night before
bleary eyes struggle to focus with my early morning cat stretches as i stare down the hallway, im waiting for some nightmare to just melt out of the wall one day and stalk slowly down the hall.


its difficult to approach the day with blue optimism when you know that you will be sweating in your shoes a few moment after you put them on. i make sure the cat has food and check the status of the litterbox to determine how much longer i can put off changing it.

i try and hold on to the last murmur of my dream. i close my eyes and i can feel you next to me. i can smell you. i feel the warm stirring of your breath touching the delicate spot where my neck meets the rest of me.

the sunlight flowing through the blinds burns the lingering feeling away.

i like how everything is better in the dark. every flaw seems softer, less obvious. instead of loud colors, they are muted, soft, and still.
i ache for the way your voice sounds as you tell me everything you cant in the light.



i love you in the dark.

9:07

i paused at the stoplight

my boot was resting lightly on the brake

the train had no time to pause

gathering speed, pulling forward

the catch of the wheels on the tracks was intoxicating

streetlights were bold and searing, staring through the breaks between cars

was the conductor half asleep at the wheel?

dreaming of his wife's soft palms and her good coffee

the scream of the horn demanded attention

my reverie was lost, no longer did the lights entrance me

their cobra stare felt unsettling

i wanted to get closer

the river was calm, singing a lullaby to the houses on the river bank

each window was pocket sized

butter light tumbled out to land on the river's wrinkles

carp were dancing underneath

languid fins and lazy mouths

to a waltz our dished ears could never hope to hear

was your family accounted for?

safe in their beds with the doors closed

were you arguing with your wife?

keen words to gut each other

laying yourself out in a warm slippery mess

staining your shirt

sitting on your old leather couch

cracked and peeling

sunburnt, tugging on the cloth

pulling the insides out

hoping she would walk back through the door

tonight you might be drunk

cradling the toilet and praying for redemption

slurred and mulled, aged salvation

i do not wish to burn in the mortal fire!

while i stare through my filmy windshield

at the royal sky with pin-thin stars

i press my fingers in the ditch of my arm
i feel my pulse panic and leap

i cautiously prod the seam
im searching for the spot where the thread was tied off

once i find it, i plan on yanking it out
a swift motion, if i hesitate all i will feel is a slow burn

tonight is not a night for burning

i want to be the dust on your bookshelf
i want to be the feathers on the crane
i want to be the last train leaving town

tonight is a night to resonate