the deepest cracks

the night
is the worst.

that's when all the shadows
come out of hiding.

and your alone,
states away
from everyone.

you might as well be
in the remotest cabin
in siberia.

you don't even remember
being this alone,

and with the nearest bar
being ten miles away,
well,
with this state's drinking
laws,
it's just easier
to drink alone.

i have a smoke outside,
and all i can hear are
the deafening sounds
of crickets
and traffic
that is too far away
to see.

i miss the sounds
of a 9 year old laughing,
of nothing but clutter
and chaos
and burnt food
on the stove,
in a tiny two bedroom
apartment.

i miss my family.

and there is nothing but
pictures inside
this camera of all of this,
and i just don't know how
to erase any of it.

on nights like these,
this is when
you notice how
the cracking begins
in your chest,
and swims up
to the highest point
on your brain,
better than any shark.

and then
you realize
where your own hell
lies.

the funny thing about ghosts

these ghosts
always reminding you
of scabs,
always,
and you know they're
ghosts.

they married you,
either
when you were passed
out
drunk,
on that one park
bench,
somewhere
in chicago. that,
or they placed
a silly little ring
on your finger,
as you were distracted,
as your nose
was being rubbed
in shit, by either
your mother
or your father.

there is no chance
for divorce
or seperation.

this wring
is actually an appendage,
around your neck,
cutting off
life to your brain.

they will follow you, even
when you run away
towards a safety.

it might take one month.
it might take 2 years.

they will find you.

and once they find
you,
the only thing you
can do
is set
an extra plate
for dinner.

and now less than one month later

i picked up the last
of my things, collected,
and left on the patio.

his car was still there,
and with the curtains closed.
i'm sure he was there,
as you were at work.

i parked next to him.

two years,
three months,
and eighteen days later,
it all comes down to this.

and if it seems
that i don't want to be
here,
it's probably because i don't.

the tears weren't even allowed
to dry after one week,
before he was allowed to
sleep in our bed,
smoke cigarettes on our patio,
into that jesus ashtry we got
in jerome.

and now he pisses in the same toilet
where i once pissed.

and it's not the fact
that i'm still paying half
the rent.

it's not even the idea
that i now possess the bedsheets
that both him and i
slept on, while you were
there.

no.

it's the way
in which you spit me
as the bad guy
when i mention that
i never want to step foot
near
this place,
that was once
my home.

when it's time for clouds

one day
these sounds
and thoughts
that permeate
throughout my brain,
will be nothing but
dissipation behind
the music of
crickets.

when that time
comes,
i want to playing
in the nighttime clouds.

i want to pinch
the moon,
and make it laugh.

i will swim
up there,
between the slits
in the clouds.

at this time
gravity
will only be
a fairytale.

and if your watching
on the ground,
where the crickets
make sense,
just know
that i'll be better off
up there.

1:01 a.m.

The summer was great for Miranda. She had met Tony just before things had ended with her ex. And well, the excitement of sleeping with a 19 year old boy was too irresistable to her.
Tony took the summer job at the Florida Tile Company because his father was one of the people who ran the company, and hey, it put some extra change in his pocket for video games. His first year of college was completed, and he was after all, becoming a man.
Miranda was in charge of Tony. He would help her with all the filing, in the billing department, that hadn't gotten filed in four months. No one had time to do that anymore.
She thought he was cute, with his tall, slim, awkward physique. He was nice to her, and she even caught him checking her out a few times.
It wasn't long before she made the decision that she had to have him. She was in love with the idea that she could get a boy 13 years her junior to become attracted to her.

It had already been one month since Tony had gone back to school. They had talked everyday on the phone, always when she was going home from work, and then at night before she went to bed.
They had visited eachother every other weekend. He came up one weekend and stayed at her place. Then the following time, they had gotten a hotel room near campus, where they just stayed in and ordered room service. It was nice. She missed Tony, and that summer.
It was like clockwork, Tony would always call her at precisely midnight, everynight, Monday thru Sunday. It was now 12:15. Miranda was staring through her cellphone screen, beginning to wonder. With her lips pierced, she texted Tony "hi sweetie, everything ok?" Surely he was just in the middle of a video game, he had just gotten some video game that just came out last night.
She touched her screen to see the time. 12:18, and still no response. Tony always responded right away.
Miranda got off the couch and went into the bathroom to relieve herself. She flushed the toilet and examined her face in the mirror. Still got it for my age, she thought to herself. Not bad, hardly any more wrinkles besides her eyes since she started using that cream.
12:26. still nothing from Tony. She checked her phone just to make sure she didn't miss anything. She didn't, and she expected that.
12:27. goddamnit Tony, she thought to herself.
12:28 she couldn't take it anymore, "where r u??"
She hated herself and Tony at that moment. She loved that Tony had never let her down, and had always called her. She thought and couldn't remember ever having to call him, when he said he'd call her, since they had secretly gotten together. She was still amazed and proud of the fact that nobody had found out about her and Tony, especially with their co-workers. Though she was sure that Tony had probably bragged about his conquest to at least a few of his friends. She didn't mind this. She kind of liked to imagine that his friends would surely be jealous of Tony and his older woman.
12:40. Still nothing from Tony. Miranda was on her 5th cigarette since midnight. Now the thoughts starting creeping in. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. What if he's at a party. He's only 19 and in college, of course he's going to drink. FUUUCK. He's probably talking to a girl right now. My body has nothing on a college girls. FUUUCK.
She called him. Each ring seemed like an eternity to her. Then on the fifth ring his voice mail came up. "TONY", her voice jumped, "Just wondering what's going on. You've never done this before. PLEASE call me when you get this."
Miranda got up off the couch once more, went out to the patio to have another smoke. She exhaled a loud sigh just before she lit up.
She knew her and Tony wouldn't last forever. But still, she enjoyed his company, and felt amazingly younger each and every time she was with him. She figured one day she would just meet someone closer to her age, and begin an adult relationship with whomever this person was.
1:o1. Not a word from Tony yet. She went to the computer and logged into her facebook account. No messages, nothing written on her wall in days. It didn't surprise her. Since she had been together with Tony, she kind of had lost track of the outside world, as was her habit when she was involved with a guy. Still, visions of Tony and another coed kept piercing her brain like freshly made needles. She knew something was up with Tony.
"FUUUCK." This time she screamed. She hoped that didn't wake up her daughter who was sleeping upstairs.

the sinking in mud

out there
in the mud,
where everybody sinks,
i just want you to remember
how my eyes felt as
i held your hand,
promising to never
let go.

the sun was there.
it was always there.
i don't know how you didn't see
it.

and i know you.
i know how beautifully complicated
your insides are,
and i was good with what
i saw.

sometimes people give
everything, including
their burning flesh,
and it's still
never enough.

and here we are
back in the mud.

you sever my hand
at the wrist,
with that hand still in yours.

i handed it to you,
and let it slip.

and at this point
there is nothing left
to do,
but step back
and head towards the mud's
shore, fighting the urge
to look back.

the time it was easy

on
the count of three,
we'll take our sides.

you'll take a lover,
and i'll take my time.

nothing is ever
even.

i'll shoot
and
you've got a shield
made of blinding mirrors.

you'll shoot
and
i'll pretend
i'm wearing
a halo.

the center
of this earth
was once
comprised
of two people.

and now,
if your going to believe
in absolute
concrete foundations,
they don't exist.

we made fragments
out of them
with sledgehammers.

and all we'll ever be
is a trillion tiny
pieces.

the only thing
we can hope for,
is that we're thankful
for this dust.

one piece

there is no skin
to protect us, and
the buzzards
are just pecking
at our meat.

we lie here,
exposed,
in the afternoon
july sun.

shade is only
20 miles away.

i can see his big face,
with his big fat smile
eclipsing the sun.

and this doesn't help,
because i'm here,
and he's there,
and the lines of communication
have been snipped
by a beautiful brain
that cared
just a little too much.

but i'll see you.

i'll see you just as soon
as my flesh is picked
clean,
and my brain is intact
in one peace.

boys and girls

there you were,
off the plane,
and the only thing we had
were footsteps,
everywhere,
from museums
to the grocery store,
all the way to hood river
and back.

we flew
that easy.

then the move,
from me to you,
let's bunker down
and
learn to be a family.

our debts are almost paid
off.

and let's go buy a better bed
and rent a bigger home.

you'll beat me
at our one millionth game
of rummy.
you always do.

in ten years time,
we'll even own our very
own artspace.

we even have a name
for it.

in the meantime,
let's buy cultural figurines
from second hand stores and
give them names.

you'll go to my family
funeral.
i'll go to yours.

and what we have
is always enough.

but now
we both know, enough is
just never enough.

and now,
there is a boy
sleeping in our bed,
probably on the same side
where i once slept.

sitting,
with your body
stretched across
his,
on that same movie couch,
where we posed
for new years pictures.

yes.
some day
that bed,
and that sofa,
and the deck of cards,
even the figurines
that we gave names
will be replaced.

you'll always win
at cards.

and someday
we'll forget that we
even lived
there.

the process of anosmia

on this patio
a random breeze
carves me
like a butchers knife.

i still don't know
where it came from.

i can still smell your
scent like a bee
on a bloom,

but it's a little less
than yesterday.

i still don't want to
believe
that the human heart
is nothing
more than a kite
on greasy string,
with icicle hands
trying to hang on,

but it is,

and memories
will one day turn into
fog.

in five years
these mountains
bowing before my eyes
will still be here.

and in five years time
this scent
will be nothing more
than a shrub
on a tomb.

my shoes in this town

this entire town reminds me
of you, and
there ain't a damn thing
i can do about it.

we left every inch
of our footprints
with their halos,
and well traveled soles
everywhere,
mountains,
roads,
and shopping malls.

everything
is the only thing
i can remember.

and now
that your gone,
and i'm still inside
the oven
that is this town,
the only thing
i can do
is measure
for a new pair
of shoes.

when my head falls off

one of these days
my head
is going to fall off.

it's not going to be
tragic,
hip,
or comedic.

it'll be more like fresh
toast on the kitchen
floor,
waiting on a dog.

school rd.

a crow
sits on a stopsign,
and
there is never
a cloud
in the sky,
just people.

there she is,
existence, and
not a care
in the world.

goddamn.
sometimes all there is,
is give
love.

and how beautiful
it must be
not to care,
when you give it
all away.

and if you care,
some crow will eat
you.
it's like this,
and it never makes
sense.

in between albuquerque and phoenix is flagstaff

the sun sets
in my eyes

this table,
on san francisco st,
flagstaff, az
has always been
here,
somewhere

i once slept
in this town
a million times,
while
making hangovers
as easy
as
microwave food.

there were girls,
drama,
bars,
and books,
just like any other
town.

i only stopped here
for a moment,
to get a coffee
and
embrace
the chest
of
some stupid
nostalgia.

in a few minutes
i'll be gone.

the sadness as we become strangers

they say phoenix is
an oven,
around the 4th
of july.

this parking lot
is hell,
and there ain't a damn
thing anybody can do
about this.

she arrives
with her daughter.
we smoke a cigarette
like zombies,
not really knowing what
to say,

we stare at whatever
is in front of us
and all i know
is that my brain
keeps getting in
the way.

people are walking past us
with their red,
white, and blue
cookies.

her daughter
is reading her book.

we sign the papers
saying
that our account is
seperated.

bobby,
the banker
keeps a respectful distance.

the divorce is finalized.
a future that won't be
is carried by the
wind
back to the heavens.

her daughter and i hug
one last time,
she kisses me
one last time.

and i hold her,
like i'm tattooing
my heart
in her chest.
i never want
to leave that little girls
grip.
ever.

we divide
in opposite directions,
walking back to
our cars.

if i look back
i know
they'd be able
to hear each and
every tear drop
hit the concrete.

i just wanted to wait
till i got in the car.

it is on this day that
i drowned myself
in a safeway
parking lot.

and they say it doesn't rain in phoenix

it began.
with two pairs
of feet,
walking to
the other pair,
making
one complete
footstep.

this happened
in chicago.

these conjoined
feet walked
everywhere,
underneath the best part
of the sky.

these feet made maps.

these feet constructed
a home.

and two years
later,
these feet seperated,

leaving footprints
of mud
everywhere.