Infinity Blues Read online

  he would not feel it best

  for my heart

  it is his

  as he held me back

  when my mother’s hand broke the glass

  through the door

  to grab my shirt

  and try and kill me some more

  when I moan about things I cannot change

  and all that money

  that I could have saved

  but spent

  killing her pain

  THAT is my mother’s wish

  I tuck myself into bed

  but

  I will never rest

  she turned me into a shark

  maybe from the poison

  and roaches

  that crawled over my brother’s face

  in housing

  unfit for children

  where someone got raped

  raped

  and beaten

  black and so blue

  no love even now at 33 will ever get through

  with the words as a shield

  and a metal vest

  this is the place where I feel best

  paranoid

  and hopeless

  I take my pills for days

  I take my pills for days

  I was a nightmare dreams could never save

  poor girls who tried

  become saints

  in a book I bind with my veins

  one sunday

  this will pass

  but not go away

  screaming my way out from the ass-end of bars

  I was back then nothing but scars

  but for my father,

  the drunk,

  who married a stripper when I was five

  I hope you close your eyes peacefully

  and die

  I shot the lights out too

  i shot the lights out

  on a million girls

  when i should have stayed

  balancing things

  i could not save

  born coward, taught slave

  to be a fool

  nourished on fears

  and afraid

  no if and or all these things

  no arms

  will ever be big enough to hold me

  afraid of beds

  and sex

  and what it might mean

  people

  they are the strangest things

  BUT

  i am sort of saying thank you right now

  saying,

  ok, i surrender these things

  i give in

  mouth watering—thirsty but not swallowing

  curves with incentive

  and never coming through

  all because of me

  and my ways

  there are a million-plus-sixteen guys out there

  better

  than me, kid

  and all of them for you

  i am lying alone

  in a castle of bones

  under a blanket

  time to go

  close the door

  and leave because i have only the one shot left

  and i shot the lights out

  already

  and this last one

  it is not for me

  and not for you

  but for

  a silence

  and

  none of god’s business

  Million-Year Fuck-Face Convention

  How old you have become

  how old

  how frail

  how made of things you used to hate

  and wished you didn’t feel

  turns on the water

  stands in front of mirror

  the day (or what’s left of it)

  impatiently waiting outside the door

  one more swallow of beach-water

  something to remind me of mother

  drowning me or my brother

  in dirty bathwater

  like that

  I am holding my breath

  in a sigh

  of a sweet long goodbye

  black-and-white movie style

  burning all the leaves in the yard

  in piles

  in a thanksgiving card

  signed

  in paper-cut blood

  and

  it smells like cheap roses

  and says,

  “I thought you might like to see a picture of a home”

  and not signed

  because it was written

  by a hag

  who pushed me out

  in a hospital

  people drive a county away to

  when they are missing a leg

  gin-drunk and xanaxed to a couch

  in a hole

  cheap rose perfume

  spitting in my face, on my soul

  fuck you

  red to green

  red to green

  I run so fast I run so fast

  I run so fast I run so fast

  I run so hard

  you won

  I am unfit to love

  your revenge on your ex-husband my dad is complete

  I resign

  in defeat

  stop stabbing me

  and

  stop staring

  I will not be signing anything

  at the million-year fuck-face convention

  SOS Searchlights

  it’s too late to beg

  she is not coming back again

  and she was everything

  everything

  i ever saw, too perfect for words

  i prepare a knife

  and barricade the door

  but she will not miss me when i am gone

  and she is not coming back again

  so what for

  it is more painful

  to sit here in silence

  and suffer

  the searchlights are off

  the search has been called

  i am drifting now

  into dark

  things nibbling at my toes

  while the ocean

  rolls my bones

  like dice

  on a wall of jokes

  i wish i could say, “meet me at home”

  it used to be mine or ours

  how strong is a love?

  not that strong

  i tell my insides

  as they churn for food or something awful and loud

  oh god

  no sleeping dogs lie

  if it breaks

  like a violin bowed to death

  numbers

  to protect the innocent you change the names

  so i will change my address

  and leave the rest the same

  and how time does pass

  when you slowly go insane from pissing up your rope

  in your head

  pretending

  you are still lying on her stomach

  listening to her laugh

  as the radio goes BLRGHHH

  both windows shut

  and the door to the bedroom closed

  in a touch

  i dream we race each other home

  progress documented by cell phone

  but i don’t live there anymore

  your heart

  hours hover over me as the glacier collapses

  into the sea

  home—safe

  but now you

  are the medication i repeat

  my medication repeats

  and

  my mind retreats

  but

  it’s over

  and

  my money goes to old fucking men in chairs uptown

  married for twenty years

  who lie to me

  and say,

  “one day you will laugh”

  and

  I sit and smile back like I am supposed to

  and

  plan another death

  i dr
ift

  into a night

  and

  just wade

  like food

  not even

  dark things under me would eat

  for

  the curses inside

  and

  god

  with his timing

  and rods

  of lightning

  tuned

  to

  my hopeless desires

  it’s too late

  Night of Bones

  Once there was a boy lonely as a night of bones. Bones in a box. Box in the ground. Once there was a world so full of light and so full of darkness, it seemed impossible to know what was what, and in the shade of the light he rested. This was his way. His flow.

  Flow was and is everything.

  Night shattered the glass. He wasn’t sure if his hand just seized or the muscles froze because he had made them and did not know, but the glass, it shattered across the floor till it was smaller than a handful of earrings. These evenings had begun and did not seem to stop. They had crept up on him like a progression of bad dreams, like a series of drones. And it was important to keep people around now that he was so alone.

  The calmest and scariest place was in the bath, covered in suds, listening to his radio. In his thoughts the past would dwell like hanging ghosts. Plants talked. Unicorns existed in the history museum. Ancient texts were all hidden truths of the world unexposed. He was sick. Like a blue dog. Like an ice trunk on a private yacht.

  Blue Wars

  Part I.

  the cars up on the lake

  I’m only joking

  there is no lake

  only a street

  and on this street

  we live alone

  I have a room

  I keep a picture

  by my bed

  of the war

  I need to talk and not with my mouth

  I need to feel and not with my felt

  I need some security

  fuck

  my youth is over

  the ending is coming

  all the stars are burning out

  not growing

  but idiots with guitars are strumming

  I am one of them

  and I am awful

  out of tune since yesterday

  as if it was the 1800s

  and

  as much as I would like to be in love

  I am not

  punk is dead

  and my best friend says,

  “oh well, let’s fuck”

  and

  I just, you know, puke—throw up

  what’s more important—

  first kiss or last?

  you have to know these things nowadays

  because

  it will not end well—

  and that is how we are taught

  latch-key mall rat from the ’80s or not

  I wrote a melody once

  in an elevator at 6 a.m. for booze

  and prospects

  i got scars and civil war artifacts

  and clues

  bar napkins stuffed into my pockets

  scratched into them like they were arms

  and I was a cutter with terrible blues

  from blue wars

  there is part two.

  Oblivion

  You know what they say,

  If the show fits…

  Well it fit you, it had to have

  You bought the whole store

  Playing games with the boys in the bar

  Telling your version of the story

  Saying it loud enough that anyone listening

  can hear the new edition you revised

  to attract them

  Lies Lies Lies

  with X’s on the eyes

  You’re a company in trouble

  miserable and downsized

  Lies Lies Lies

  busy-bodied slacker

  who’s a slacker attracter

  Starcrossed,

  and only lucky with the lazy ones.

  You know what they do,

  get drunk on information

  then they actually get drunk

  and tell anyone who’ll listen

  You’re getting good at this

  Good work, keep up the practice

  One day you’ll be above them all

  and I’ll be fine, I got a cactus

  Lies Lies Lies

  Put X’s on their eyes

  Your company’s in trouble

  You’re miserable since you were downsized

  Lies Lies Lies

  Shoving boys into the bags

  that you emptied out your shopping in

  You’re starcrossed and lucky

  with all the lazy ones What’s

  another name for slacker, it’s a bum

  idiot starfuckers

  Sign your name in the space above

  don’t call her

  she’ll call you

  You can audition for her love.

  Just remember

  she’s only lucky with the lazy ones

  Go mess up your hair

  lose the tie and stand right here

  you’re on.

  What Is the Password for Summer Again?

  Birthday Gemini

  stares back at the glasses through bright candle glow

  stares through the plate

  a pill went down

  probably

  it says it all

  says, “for now, this night is too late”

  with no waterfall

  no father-and-son type dialogue

  stupid like a flock of rackety glisteners

  champagned and smiling

  like geese

  some asshole talks about poetry

  and

  you know,

  she sleeps with him

  so gross

  not even cheap

  just fucking gross, and wasted on the sheets

  who am i to be the one to tell him who

  or what

  when i am just a thought

  in a flying spitball

  not even a contender

  on a flight

  of nobility

  barely an example of either gender

  inside soft like pound cake and sweet tea

  a world of vessels

  with me a dam

  that would never let a single fucking boat come in

  without firing on it

  before a warning sound or shot

  i am a war

  —she sits and stares and watches

  sits and stares and wastes her time

  like I am not looking

  red hair like bloody morning

  cars begin

  and interrupts the happening

  and

  if it was true, ever, anything inside

  then

  the weight of love should crush us both

  like summer bugs

  but

  separated forever

  without the password for summer

  just outside

  for my bones ache for you

  like i was not here

  yet

  and a season to forget

  i am only a word slut

  Snow Lady, I Wished You

  sweet dreams,

  snow lady

  cinderella shoes

  and tap

  tap

  tap

  on the walls

  my eyeballs fall out

  I cry

  during funny parts

  of ghostbusters

  now

  I am old

  it’s so funny

  you would even laugh

  sociopath

  and I guess I don’t belong to you

  than I do the South anymore

  dodo bird

  wasted moment

  crashed car

  traffic accident

  real

  heartbre
aker

  it was nice to meet you

  i think

  sweet dreams

  for

  every day that finishes you in bright light

  and

  honestly

  may you sleep so sound

  and

  live eternal in my heart

  as

  an amulette

  made of something stronger than hope

  snow lady

  Gay As Fuck

  write a line

  cross it out

  nothing i say

  is ever good enough

  anyway

  my stomach is turning

  bloody gray

  full of rust

  riddled with cliché

  and gay as fuck

  dirt in my room

  vacuumed to death

  until the curtains

  get sucked

  until night’s only left

  night is only left for me to piss off

  riddled with envy

  and gay as fuck

  dreaming impossible girls

  who spit and cuss

  on car windshields

  pulling out guns

  and firing at famous cemetery headstones

  in gingham dresses

  and

  with busted lips

  the leaves go red

  orange and brown

  a tree gets chainsawed

  tree falls down

  falls on the fence

  of the house that I bought

  for us

  my life is a comedy

  i am a hack

  and

  this is just nothing

  and

  gay as fuck

  sarcastically

  with

  a Southern accent

  in the back of mind

  Auden’s complete works

  held up

  to God

  as light

  of course

  still,

  gay as fuck

  as if to say

  so

  what.

  You Will Not Miss Me When I Am Gone

  Car goes past

  the window in the room

  the lamp by the bed burned out last night

  and it’s almost afternoon

  seashore lined with bars

  Broadway girls missing

  into the mouth of the moon

  mid-autumn

  and you will not miss me when i am gone

  Heaven and Earth

  Body and Soul

  last light of day

  flowers in the cold

  sand and sea

  how happy we used to be

  memory

  oh you

  two tickets for the movies