I'm back

I know. I know. Lame. Seriously, though, the surgery went well. I had this gun sutured onto my hand. Awesome. Same haircut, same channel; still shirtless. BOOM.

allusive blue

You blacken my eyes and I bury you
with an ax deep in my mind.
I foil your kisses with sharp objects
placed between my thighs, saving
each squirting drop of blood in
your thermos, praying every
morning for your demise.
Your fists have become petals
caressing my dreams of future
torture I manifest while serving
you sides of black-eyed peas.
My scars shout your words of
abuse and love as I shrink inside
my sanctuary and slowly carve my
escape route on your store-bought
tombstone.

truth

I will, more than likely, never find love. However, I shall ALWAYS tell people the truth about how I feel about them.

look, just look

If you could only look inside, see me in the right light, in the light of day despite the darkness, and love me anyway.......that would be heaven.

Andrea Gibson

“Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.”

—	Andrea Gibson

**

interlopers

We walk through our home like
two actors onstage, on cue
grinning and lurching over
the X's and O's.
We read from dusty menus
professing our I do's while
drinking from pretty carafes of poison.
I kiss you with dry, cracked lips
smelling of mothballs and saccharin.
You lug in your white picket
fingers and I come (undone)
at your beckon call.
The slats we love between cover
our faces hiding behind
the studs in the wall.
Our wooden expressions perfectly
practiced for friends and
neighbors in our hellish manicured
wonderland.