Coagulated

It's surprising the things you find

out about yourself at 3 o'clock

in the morning,

lying on the living room floor

head spinning with drink,

mind racing with regret,

wanting so desperately to send

that message, yet knowing it’s

inviting the devil back in,

granting the succubus access

to my vital organs once more,

like the drag of the needle

tracing silhouettes of angels

wings down my arm, veins

clouding with the junk of us.

More

Are we ever really happy?

That gnawing, clawing,

insatiable, teeth gnashing

feeling that there's more;

more to experience,

more to explore,

to love

to fuck up

to lose.

The feeling you're just scratching

the surface of life.

That there's not enough

hours, minutes, or seconds

in the day to discover,

pursue and accomplish

those things that were

strategically placed

just out of our reach

in the deepest recesses of our soul

inexplicably linked to the very fabric

of who we are.

There's always more.

There has to be.

I Used to Want to Sail the World

I used to want to sail the world,

now it hurts to say your name aloud.

We swore we would tell each other

when we fell out of love, that we

wouldn't waste one another’s time,

but it came suddenly and

without warning.

I can count on one hand

maybe two, the times I dialed

your number thinking just a whisper

is all I needed.

just one word

followed by silence,

*69

and the imagined shock of

realization across your face.

That's enough excitement for tonight.

When you walk away from eternity

does that exempt you from heaven

and hell?

I just need to know if it's too late

to hedge my bets.

I hear reincarnation is nice.

I could come back as a raven

or maybe a silkworm,

and weave my failures

into a nice sized duvet.

I used to want to sail the world,

but now I can't be in the same room

as you without losing the ability

to conjugate vowels.

It was always vowels with us,

our arguments always ending in I-O-U.

Not to say the times in-between weren't

the best we ever had, just that the edges

were sharp and the cuts were deep.

I used to want to sail the world,

nowadays I just want to right the ship,

keep it safely tucked into the harbor

and moored to the shore,

far from the uncertainties of what lie

beneath the surface of the deep.