Artifacts

My thoughts are creepers 

Which grow, leaning against reality,

Watered by the night in all its darkness 

And dewdrops in the form of stars that twinkle:

Cool to the touch, glistening with hope

Wrapping themselves far too tight 

Around me – alive and also not, 

like a goat for sacrifice. 
I blink. 
My hands are free to wander 

Above, around, beneath, below:

Against the grain, and sweat from bodies

From which I pull all of my despair out and hang 

It out to dry in the heat of the sun when 

My thoughts shrink back into their pod

disappear from the recesses of mind 

Like acetone off linoleum.
I inhale. 
My mouth unveils my verses 

And raises the hair on the back of his back 

And my neck to stand in ovation, respecting 

The distance between us, like water on the edge 

Of a waterfall receding – slowly; to the rhythms

Of instruments facing extinction, sacraments

Of single copy smudged by fingers of overuse 

Like the language of love. 
I laugh.
My eyes are suddenly a fertile

Ground for tears, a fabric ripped apart 

From the seams of feeling by the agonies

Of life: such is the story, that if I wove every tear 

In this stained tapestry together, close into 

A circle, and hung it with feathers from 

Birds that sing of murder and sleep

It still wouldn’t catch a dream. 
I turn around. 
I walk away. 

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Dysfunction

For Kurt Cobain.


I open my eyes and my mouth to a cheerless narrative;

A stark depiction of what life has become,

Every action pushing towards a common motive

To render this heart of mine numb.

I want to paint it black

Not seek to absorb what it finds itself to lack —

So when the sun pokes through my window

I pull the blinds down low.

 

I go about the day in a mindless stupor

Here, I break glass; here, blades break skin,

In my mind I am myself an intruder

Betting on a game I can’t possibly win —

So I give up — douse myself in the pot and the pills,

Cut lines on the mirrors, the windowsills.

 

If I do have a soul, it’s all but lifted

My mind so numb, a boat I no longer row

My body takes the brown sugar thrust in through the piston

And I watch it take control, let go —

An instant of regret vanishes too soon

The high is when I’m at my biggest low.

 

As the poisonous rapture wears off

I find myself slumping, my head on my knees.

With disdain I look at myself and scoff,

Do nothing but watch my appetite for self-destruction increase —

There is just so much pain in sobriety

Seeking refuge in moonshine becomes a necessity.

 

Only in the dead of the night do I give in

(To the tears, the emotions, the hopelessness — for I gave up long ago)

And when heavy eyes no longer weep

I dissolve myself into a dreamless sleep —

Tomorrow will be the same.