October

So I watched the lamplight vanish cackling

and howled your hideous name all over that duplex ridden darkness.

There is no God.

There is no God, 

but forgiveness.

When forgiveness comes like a punch in the throat

it breaks you, senseless and heals you all at once.

God is creation's comma, 

a big ugly pause

hovering over every meaningless phrase

squealing yes and rainbows to an eternity of NO and a fathomless black

You are retarded for reading this

cradling us up the balcony holding our broke drunk asses over the bath tub with two slit wrists and kissing us hard

infinity gave me a stone and I gave it back.

When I was seven I did something so bad that my mom hit me with a green extension chord over and over again until I couldn't stand.

I miss you like a terrible pain.

I miss you like the shear tufts of artificial grass that stuck between my toes right before slipping my cleats on and storming onto the field like some tiny better black Beckham.

I miss you like an artery.

Like my own artery the stupid nearsighted surgeons are digging for but can't find.

I miss you like a lurid self conscious poem that keeps pretending not to notice itself.

I miss you so much it wakes me.

I miss you so. I wake with each pretentious word I write.

I miss you so much I saved that idiotic Face book message you sent me the first time you tried speed and thought your hair was a wig.


So you typed and typed and typed until it grew back into your mind.

I miss the nights we tried everything.

Tried

Being nothing

Tried

losing ourselves in each other's mouths

Tried

desperate clinging in your sister's Sentra

Tried

 climbing statues
 and inhaling asphalt and the smoke of distant cigarettes.