Keeping up with keeping on.
It’s more strenuous than it sounds.
Staying hopeful when you feel helpless,
this feels like delusion.
I’m floating my gifts,
all of which go unnoticed,
…and I can totally relate.
I’m selling myself…
…just coming up short.
I’m wasting my life,
a floundering mess.
not directionless,
just a lack of affection.
A pretty mouth,
with more to offer than you care to know.
I’m lacking in spirituality,
not in formality.
Just ask my mother,
she’ll tell you…
…and me.
“So much potential”,
What a shame.
“it’s her own fault”,
even though I’ve never lived up to my word.
“We all hoped for more from that one”,
but we can’t remember her birthday.
She says, she said, she’s saying…
It’s all a gift, one that’s not returnable,
it’s indeterminable,



sometimes you’re told you wont wake up screaming anymore and you believe it.
sometimes you’re told that all the sinking feelings you are having are only nerves and they will go away.
“Here, take these, you’ll feel better, my dear.”
sometimes you meet people and they become a part of your life you don’t want to let go of, And they leave.
sometimes you push them away.
and when they all tell you its a phase, but maybe its you.
they’re probably right.
this is not to say that its bad.
this is not to say it’s good.
all it is…
is to say.


is it a bad thing that the taste of your blood and semen mix with my chemicals so well?
I don’t think so…
is it so bad that I want to kiss every scar with all my love and make all the pain go away?
feel all the heat of your body sink away into my stomach as you are drained of all the life that has tormented you thus far…?
feel your life become mine…
wake and see you still lying there in the remnants of your last fluids…
turn to kiss your cold lips…
not want to let go just yet…
keeping it all to myself…
keeping you all to myself…
… I’m selfish.
…or maybe…
or just like to have things captive.
the waxy feel of your flesh that reminds me of your death,
and this is wrong why?
that would be love,
the kind of caring with a fine line between hate and love,
love and death,
crying and laughter.
why would it be so unfathomable?
to love someone so much you cant live with or with out them,
find a hole and crawl in it forever just to feel the silence of the both of you together and to memorize the sounds and your smell.
and when you fuck or make love…
whatever it is,
it wont be enough eventually.
you see whats in between,
you want to know whats inside.
viscera is the most intimate part of the body…
how much more vulnerable do you want me?
feel that?
its my pulse,
wanna know where it comes from?
open me up wide…
wider that I can spread,
examine the gears that make me tick,
memorize the look in my eyes before you let me go.
its the most precious moment of your relationship with me.
…the end,