sanitized

i have decided to

give in to the parasitic self

my reservations concerning this are

relatively

selfish

relative to what time has already done filling and eroding me

a saturated sponge which leaks, dirty

i think about it and

i let it out

my time is structurally sentenced

bones and stones stacked, a spidery web on which i can rest

finally i can rest

activity is draining me of reasons and support

i let it in and it supports me unexpectedly

i sense a strong skeleton inside the light

a light which he produces with christ-like unawareness

i have lost the ancient battle

the loss is feathery and soft from rotting

i can just feed off the light as it sanitizes my context

i could feed off his love for me

and my love for it hollows me and fills the space with light

a dangerously empty space: i am letting in the parasites

i am sorry

i couldn’t let love in alone

the doctor refuses

periodically i find myself in clearance
wide and open, the bright, sunny ceiling
enormously happy and knowing me.
endless, strange organisms smile
and absorb my hopeful optimistic rage;
the foliage spills greenly and graciously.
life is synchronized in amusing chaos and
all according to the warm, porcelain plan...
a certain rhythm moves us roughly and
on top of it all, my teacup rattles and breaks.
[really, i am so, so sick and wounded by the real world.
i mislead myself into health, periodically.]

canals

i’m thinking about us proudly
filling solid spaces with
noise
our mouths are bloody
we spilled nervously and coughed red laughter
i find we fit perfectly
i just wanted to see you find me
where i feel this find
i wanted your happiness in mine

i’m waiting outside the
universe
there are two worlds in which i
patiently wait for passion
the physically interactive
is tiny and
rigid
and cleansing itself of fantasy
there must be many worlds
where you love me with
red-blooded caution

in my dreaming mind
hearts are unembarrassed and
unreal
solid friendship, fucking
nothing’s finite and reality is perfect
the universe is a soft space we
fill with
noises

Strip

Strip me down and knock me out.
With your probing eyes,
and your poison mouth.
I have come to realize that though your lips say the words it will never be true.
In those eyes I will never be good enough for you.

To look past the lies that you left behind,
inside of my head.
You left me for dead...

The gentle reminder that you are still here,
soft, sweet words still ring in my ear.
How I long for silence and your voice to abate,
stop haunting me at night, stop taunting me as I wake.

It was always the little things, you were ever so sly.
Add a wink or a laugh to a push or a cut,
it was all I needed to bat my eyes.

Security and safety you represented for me,
however, molding clay is all you would see.
In an artist's hands you'd hoped I'd be.
Yet you are not so artful, crafty, or kind.
The clay lacked the luster you had hoped to find.
Trying anyhow to sculpt and form,
your frustration sets in and creates a storm.
You can't hide what you really wanted from me.
It was simply something I never WANTED to be.

You say you are done, through all of this.
You threw me away, with lies in my head.
You left me for dead.

So leave me alone,
at peace and away from you.
I need to sort it all out,
the lies you left,
the girl you left...

Release me, return me to the ground.
Here I will stay, silently awaiting the day
when I can once again feel the stillness at night.
The stillness that comes when the artist disappears.
When my inner soul stops this useless fight...


I will NEVER give up who I am for what you wanted me to be.

JRH

passive aggressive

the things we do - indirectly.
i’m drawn to this sort of thing,
torture. but,
i pull myself clear of it.

when she
shakes my hand, her body is elsewhere,
unbothered.
her vessel formed in ceramics and reinforced
tightly
every wish granted, “hey!” i’d say.
it isn’t fair! is it?

i understand these sorts of things
the way i tortured my thoughts into patterns
and my body is elsewhere,
unharmed, because
i pulled myself clear of it. such am i
"above it": so
it turns out i’m envious
in effigy, “don’t worry,” i’d say.
it’s not real, because
i’m not real.

hairpin dynamics

jesus did something interesting
jesus said
he said something interesting

i don’t really remember
what was important about
my magazines
comparatively

but i hope that tomorrow
i’d say something
meant for ink on iron pages
a word or two about
our sordid innerworkings
our sickened secret passages
and how we always overcome
and gracefully leave it all behind

(i just won’t get my hopes up
about today)