[WhatILivefoR]

Twelve

Fear comes between me and my lips-
so confined together in the same mouth
with the same teeth, same pierced tongue
the same breath, the same frustrated call.
And I remember I don’t want this. God, I don’t want this.

With the beams of the heat converging,
two went out with the broom on the step.
And twelve followed their fire in passionate upheaval
collecting the crumbs of their blistering decent.
I’m feeling like I’m five years old again.

like Gretel runs; the leaves stretching after some intangible...
wake of an ocean. the one for my father.
There’s no one in the woods for me. It’s draining, it’s vague,
and I’m in the delicate process of getting lost with my eyes shut.
I’ve been lost before; I know what to expect.

Only the oven waits. The fires of Hell, unquenchable;
a surrealistic romance of a dysfunctional form.
the twelve timed chance of a new life, gone.
GOD the leaves don’t give.
They silverize and spin like a worthless whore.

While the cigarette is flushed, her lips close around it.
hold the grip tight because falling will quench it.

“tuck and roll.”