okay
so i’m bad at
goodbyes
and the pause that you pressure
is hitting up that girl
you’re crushing on at
a funeral
a scale they use
to weigh the world
but i’ll pack you into
my lungs
while i dance with my
hands full
in spanish
that burnt green of the woods
that magical realism
that excuse
where they bury you
and burn your whole
forest down
i’ll miss you but now i’m
the remainder
comatose on my own time
beeping a little beep that sounds
like a stupid fucking
funny rhyme
so i’ll be a reminder
breaking a stare
some sort of
record holder
because my eyes
were never open
in the first place
self-infliction the color
of a yellow bottle
and a reflection
that coughs in
the morning
and the bathroom
sink is a red
that i ran
asleep at the wheel from
old sacramento to
manhattan
my little ugly
unbound sign of
how we used to
share the same
pretty pile of
lies
i’ve never known a breath
of fresh air
and it took me
thirty-something years
to fix
my faith
the sky is the color
the streetlights
make when they run
down god’s spine
i hurt enough
to rather be
cigarette smoke
that gets in your eyes
and you try to flick it away in your lap—
the ash
and you can’t wave me away
and we crash
Poisoners 