if you love me, it’s
like pain, an anchor in his bowels – so intestinal so blank a man will die
three times. an only child, they call us spoiled, mother said the same … a
wreck for family a sandwich for lunch or Grits for dinner. I heard a man ate
water, dust, dirt, made mud pies. we fight to express pain. we roll tobacco. we
come from killing fields. the company I kept the way we died we needed the brandy
we drank. I’m a believer in women, they act in accordance, mostly souls raised
us. a violin bleeds a cello aches a viola whines; to unlove you is criminal to
understand you is illogical to walk away is terminal. like a filmmaker like a
drumkit the lights are out at 4 a.m. I met a lady I was unfair in me I desired
to reappear; I walked train-tracks, I painted railroads, I fought like cats.
upon a polygraph laced in spirit ten moments ‘til waking up. I haven’t a clue,
a naked aesthetic I watched as she entered the restroom. eggs with green
onions, turkey bacon, and biscuits. so far into disbelief so ached to cry
sitting in a chair the legs are wobbly. so unstable as like his life another
stranger headed to her layer. a smothered existence a pictureless maze while
bold enough to claim Christ. so much inside me, “I’ve come for sinners,” a soul
runs through a maze of shrubberies. I relax, reading graffiti reminiscing on
times when getting along seemed easy. before regret before nonchalance before
realizing most aren’t equipped. reedited or raw material at a soul ten paces my
damages. she wore most excruciating denims. so rich like jewels. while a man is
drunk off her delicacies. indeed, I heard her voice, I died in my revenge, I felt
re-parted in segments afloat in the breeze.
