little girl irene,
all lost and alone
how long has your heart
been lookin’ for a home?
little girl irene,
so small and abused
did any of the guys know
that they were being used?
little girl irene,
your eyes so bright
what do you look at
starin’ straight into the night?
little girl irene,
smilin’ and laughin’ outside
do tears fall
in the places where you hide?
little girl irene,
heart all broken in two
you should’ve known all along
the person your searchin’ for is you.

to be here and ever
how quantifiable such a thing:
I am here, I am not here.
it all appears so random
an event
of ink on paper and m o
vi
n g
it, sometimes, in to the plural,
an assortment of motions.
to write them into a proper
space
and to leave it alone
and watch the words
burn.

to break
just that
is terrifying:
to break the clean
silence
of this (monster)
or any
page
and
to have
said
(what?)
something
that says it all.

lips adjoined by line
that
divides one from
the other. originally
the division serves
the separates as to retain
each own self by the space
that one occupies and distances
the other, who is doing the same. however
as gentle as a smile transfixed and posed by
its eyes
the division
of space, the space itself
whole and divides, twofold,
slowly. until one can bring across
so as to bring one across
one of flesh singular,
but for the thin dark division
which maintains two into
the space of one. two surrender
one to another, making not one
but two inclining to be one,
neither owned, solely, by its own
flesh by running parallel and
similar to the division of itself
and another. two lines becoming
one, but two remaining sepa
rate, consistently for the imposition
of the flesh of one on one.
close enough for the breath
of one and another’s in each other
of their respective wholes.
counterparts
as opposed to ends but neither
ending
their divisions, sealing
into the unsightable form
of one’s singularity of two
separates perpendicular, or parts
of, waiting to be concealed,
not breaking the division, but one
entering the other, one in one
simultaneously,
the moistness of which one
solely posses two of for another to be
received wholly, leaving whole enough,
two
admiring their separate distinctions.
no secret
but the consistency of
the (re)arrangement to bend
the line of division of
one
and
one.

so much
in
such times
for
such times
had
so much.

very quick
and all this streaks
the indication of velocity.
not one, nor two, to
understand this with(out) DRUGS, on the very
thought and thoughts
scrambling as if the skull
a hot skillet. to pour
out the dance off the rhythm
of and at the tongue (and)
to never laugh enough.
concocted
wordjumblethoughts,
to say, “extraordinary (responses) to anything”
anyone had to
say.
what (a) thing to be
alive and raging happily. (however) the hand
never fast (enough)
or the pen effortless
(enough)or
the senses dull (enough)
to retell
(exactly).
Just very happy of
something from nothing
and can go on for days
for the bright colors
swirling
only in my head (only).
in my head and
a damn fine job
(of it).

truth to tell
(and only so) to you:
it breaks to imagine
me
holding
you. knowing
that is all
I wanted but never
the application reversed
(you
holding
me)
but came off
as rehearsed. I haven’t spoken because all
I would have (to say)
is nothing (at all).
much wanting to
tear my eyes apart,
to keep me),from seeing these things. years
and I’m still feeling,
of you saying,
“never going to be.”

how long can a tongue
hold?
lip to vomit
its
throat across.
no reconciliation
for the teeth are guilty
by accessory. inside
very dry
and a reason
to silence its
dark and hoarse sound
that
acknowledges it is
speaking
“sweat”, thinly.
very loud.
reminiscent of the much pained
and bruised gum, being
tight lipped, on the whole
across the jaw, about
the (w)hole of it. unnameable for its
ab strac tion. on the inner cheeks,
cuts that are open
to fascination. a wake to
(still)
find myself
immersed
in
sleep. hard
to believe that (I) breath(e)
at all.