Asylum Street

Sucking on a honey berry cough drop
her aorta artery working hard
pumping those veins full of purpose
there’s the screaming next door
she pulls the tape out
puts another layer around the wall
whatcha gonna do about living in hell?
watching these things go by
winged harpies
fire breathing crones
madmen with scalpels
and nice over coats
what’s it like inside the baker st insane asylum
mysteries unsolved
body bags and Prussian blue
flashing flesh at flash bulbs reflecting on concrete
dyed moments of identity and scrubbed reality
long living on these gnawed down bones
left overs of past lovers
they said she’d be a psycho
taking orders from animals
in the end living like a mongrel
growling at the apocalypse
exploding over mass graves
but you made her out of malice
shaped the canvas
when they strap down for electric shock
she’ll be seeing out the back of her skull
straight into your soul
her gaze turning into stone
that’s when they all see the light
at the end of her sockets



They would take our spaceships
abduct these human moments
turn us into corn fields of emotion
harvesting the love we lose
the pain we scream
happiness we gain
reaping our minds,
so shut off the television
microwaves and molecules,
they want us to forget the connections,
synapses and syntax,
news speak in mnemonic symphonies.
I was only meant to warn the masses
bring you back to reality
make your own escape
I can leave you behind
for the coming invasion.
I won’t be ripe for their picking
join me if you have a soul
something worth saving
but pick up your own pitchfork
defend the grand scheme
with your tears and muscle fiber
don’t forget we gave it all away
for beliefs once before
we can do it again
and if I can convince you
you could convince them too

You + Me = :(

I wrote your name with mine
combined us in pen
and the shards of silver necklace shrapnel
still protrude through my clavicle,
sputtering black blood of arterial damage
my finger spells you + me on hardwood grain,
what did we see in that well?
not eternity.
lips litter empty space with wishes
reserved for children.
stained innocence leaks out
and I can’t plug the wound
if I’d known what would become of these hands
I would have cut them off long ago,
run them through a wood saw
prevent them from writing the we
but the words have been spilled
with these after dinner casualties
aching through coughs of your name
can they make out my tone
my upheaval of hating every second
of the last moments spent
crawling to your red hot tune
playing in my head,
nail gun through my temple
so I can leave this world in one last
fit of violent protest against


It’s cold in the deep end
treading water like I mean it
like I need to stay alive
when I know I came here to die
swim cause they showed me how
not to drown on the memories that choke
me like the water that invokes my lungs
can you feel the body whispering good bye
the muscles aching in the ebony
dark and icy
you can take me
but I keep my arms moving

Letter to My Ghosts and Gods

To the ghosts that live between my mattress pad and bed sheets
I’m sorry you are left behind in skin particles of the others
in the love dust, like some mausoleum
are you tending the museum of past companions well?
I suppose my tears only wash away small stains on the artifacts
To the ceiling fan god who watches over me at night and makes me dream
Are you wondering when I’ll get a new urn for the ashes?
My great passion burns so bright this old thing can hardly hold a tenth of my sheddings
And I pray to you in the wee hours to hum me to sleep with your vibrating lullaby
to entrance this being, a mere corporeal candidate for synthetic treatments
You watch me with the bottles and the ghost collect the pills lost in the undertow
between two worlds I struggle with these entities, sloughing off the cells
The cells that make me breathe another day
With a loofah in one hand I beg pardon to the epidermis as I attempt
to enact reptilian rituals and rub raw the pale exposed bits of cancerous humanity
Can we be so cold blooded?
Lose the layers in one go, now you’re gone, ready for the next one
But alas there are monuments and mosaics dedicated to the heart felt intertwinings
Some are more intricate than others
As I scrub my flesh red I realize I have only succeeded in quickening the growth
of a particular piece that would have taken longer to complete.
Perhaps the ghosts appreciate this of me,
the ceiling fan disagrees.

Showdown Against My Better Half

busted front lip
banging the mouth against porcelain
and licking wires plugged into sockets
jump start that heart rate
took a turn on me
at the last western showdown
shoot to kill
but we were a rodeo mascot
boots to burn
I’ll wise up when you
get off your high horse
I’ll buy your bullshit
when you’ve got a guarantee on the back
today we’re just beating our faces
across a bathroom stall
call it domestic brawl of hee vs. haw
when I walk out of here, two teeth less
you call my name from your respective puddle of
blood and spit
remember this could’ve been different
I could’ve been your Annie Oakley
and you might’ve been my Sundance Kid
but we’re nothing if not simple minded and selfish
bullheaded and brazen
quicksilver on the high tail of a harvest moon


Measure us in latex wrappers
something we can pile up
it makes the days seem more tangible
than emotions
just like I’ll get lost in cigarette boxes
and a tray of ashes
when i burn up as you walk away
vampires on dark corners thrown into sunshine
I’m waiting till you get bored
counting the minutes of me you can take
wondering if you’ll leave me today
they are white they are yellow they are blue
my friends I swallow so I can lose you
for a girl who’s always in love
I never met my match
scared to breathe or blow away
this stack of happy memories
when did I start getting what I want?
they say to trust it
enjoy it
embrace it
I’m waiting until i have to get over you
and if I’ll even make it when i do
haven’t been truthful with myself in a long time
photo effects on my own life
there’s a moment before i sleep when i beg
please let me keep
this one

Lady Liberty

we took it to the streets
and this is what you gave us
a Molotov cocktail with a beat
with a ‘you’ll never know my name’
with a rifle and a reason to fear me
all the same
you took my virginity with your AK 69
looking for reasons to cross that dotted line
I’m spreading lies about the revolution
starting my own
in a basement on the hill
that over looks your home
we’re taking back the streets
I’m winning this war
the one against myself and the monsters next door
got my green beret on
looking like little miss militant
ruling with an iron fist con
and they’ve been video taping me
in your back room
watching me scream
I look at you, I look at you while you do me
fucking me and screwing the light bulbs in my cunt
ideas come from everywhere
so we’re taking it back
girls and guns and sodomy
the system likes genocide and alchemy
who knew we’d torch this declaration
of independence
I just want to be naked
in your American flag


I think I could hold your limp body forever, still and silent, no flutter of existence, just the broken sound leaking out in a hiss. I take my hand and rub it against your cheek, which is bloody and sticky. I haven’t really considered what this looks like on the outside. All that I know is you can’t breathe anymore and you don’t vibrate and pulse. But I love you so much anyway, even in the throes of underworld serenity. I cradle your head to my breast and bits of your skull seem to fall away with brain matter, it soils my dress. I guess you were always making messes though, of everything. That’s why I have you here against my chest like a still born. There is no audience for this death rattle, for the swan song that escapes my lips as I suck past oxygen to the deeper chemical compounds and push forth the shaking scream. Your peaceful visage, awake with open eyes and asleep in eternal reverie, have left me no choice, I must finish what I started. The gun is still warm from the discharged round that I placed in your head, I can still smell the powder burn. But it was you or me, wasn’t it? Now it’s both of us. I press the barrel to my temple, it singes my baby hairs, I take one last glance at your torn cranial bone spray and shut my eyes. If a girl shoots herself in an empty wood, does the gunshot make a cry?

Us Before the We

Old guitar wound hands

Steel chord eyes

Iron drum chest
I’ve been playing you at night
like you’ve been playing me
All those great green trees
moss creeping up your veins while you sleep
Oregon sunset, looking for a combination
East and West
But here are the hills
You knew her before me
Left for safe keeping
I didn’t want to be so selfish
But we are what we need
And my straight crooked teeth
like your sweat sweet skin, the bones that sink in
We’ve got pens in place of pipes
We’ve got lines to memorize
Scenes to play before we die
I don’t think we know what this alphabet speak
and a bottle of red wine mean
Pushing against the grain
Complicating things
to keep each other sane
You and I are just the same
If that even matters in the end