Words Part II

our relationships seems

to be one of words yours and I

I tell you things quickly sometimes

almost hoping you won't hear them

and think 'I am a book.'

You study me through your glasses

once you took them off your face

and put them on my nose

I said, You are blind!

But when I get up close enough to

your face you recognize me clearly like

words of a book

the moon

tries to hide herself

behind thin sheets

I am walking in the dark

my breath like wine

my knuckles like coal

my lungs on fire

walking in the dark.

blind man's bluff

biology class, 4th period:
thirty future
gas station attendants
and porcelain sanitation
majorettes
stick gum on the bottoms
of their desks
because they are under the
impression trash doesn't
exist if they aren't looking
at it

well, I've got to stare at garbage all period

four kids whistle sharply
with their fingers in the back
of the classroom

I ask, "Please stop whistling."
they do not stop whistling,
so I ask, ever so politely
"Excuse me, how fucking old are you?"

they do not stop whistling
(I blame it on self-loathing
and a destructive impulse)
"Hey, man, after school let's burn stuff"

today
I am bleeding out of my vagina
all over my best pair of underwear

I don't have time for this shit

tomorrow I will inform those four
little songbirds, ever so politely,
that I am a high functioning autistic

and they could keep whistling
they could whistle their way
to an early job at the gas station

only if they wanted, of course

I do love a good game of poker

jeeeezus why am I so rhyme-y lately, crimeny

we're back to the old analogy of mine
with the heart and the chewed gum
and the differing directions
I stepped on an emotional landmine and my macbook
girlrections, missed connections, craigslist mania
'weird gay slob seeks same'
has brought me Milagro Coffeeshop fame
'dear god I hate myself'
has been a recent obsession, thanks Max
Sketchy Broad's Late Night Lunchbox
chef buys me a passionfruit
while moot battles meghano
I scan twitter, skittering cats in wool sweaters
underneath the recline in the chair
with a backhanded stare
at yet another girl whose name
is a motherfucking color
just blow my brain now lest I birth and not
munch on an aggie school cow

the coyotes are screaming
the sound carried from the desert
into my bedroom

in the sixties they
built this house on
a cement foundation

while tapetum lucidum
watched from the tall grass

Too Much, Too Soon

I found some abandoned Man-jeans
upstairs so I wore them
My bra was two sizes
too small and I didn't realize it
yet.

Oh, you pretty thing
so flawless at 15
how infinitely envious I was

Too much too soon
it led you here
A sh*tting, screaming little machine in your arms
Though your looks have not changed
You seem different
You are no longer pretty
And no one is envious of you
anymore.