on natural functions:

my heart sings songs that no ear will ever hear.
through my veins, sonnets and odes flow.
should my blood spill, those words are wasted;
when the blues become red and the rhythm
of my heart falters for moments, i lose the
sentiments that were to leave my lips
and be whispered into the waiting ears
of my love.

skinny arms

television dreams of a drunkard
falling haphazardly down somewhere
around my ankles and toes.
while bending to collect the episodes
and hallucinations,
a startling realization hit like a baseball bat
on an intruder in the house of paranoia.
two toxic influences, two similar addictions
swirling around and drilling holes
in a perfectly fine brain -
tape your hands and forearms together, fool.
even if i run out of things to say to you
i will never run out of things to drink.
the moon hangs low tonight.
it is within my reach.
i will grab it and swallow it.
i will affect the tides,
dogs and coyotes will howl at my white, white face.
i can hear the train, i can see the tracks
but i have yet to see that lumbering vehicle pass.
cobalt, cerulean, peacock, sapphire and discontent:
no matter the layers of white primer, black paint
through the cracks and dents easy to see.
ain't no way to wash myself clean in that salty sea,
i don't even float anymore. straight to the bottom.

her skinny arms reach down and pull me out of the bathtub.
my eyes closed, soaking wet and sleeping i might just be
happy to see her, and perhaps my veins have gone
to rest in their beds; now less visible under pallid skin.
the smell of a spring morning floods the squalid room
and today, maybe i will draw the blinds and let the
the light of the day shine on my face.