Not So Far Behind: An Exercise in Exhalation

Waiting to feel some
thing this
isn’t what it was
supposed to be

I am a jealous god

I want the words to be
MINE only mine
all mine only all

and everything you used to be
is everything you are and
if I could play Picasso’s
guitar I’d tell the way I really
feel

which is nothing of any consequence

I hate
that it always
comes out like this

I fuck another fuck
like I write another paper
like I write another poem
and then erase, just in case

when the dialogue between us
gets too close for breathing
then I’ll find another way
to ease inside

I cannot decide
if I want or don’t a reader
someone to believe
the things I say

because bleeding might be nice
for someone else to watch
but we’re all fucking voyeurs 
just the same

I would like to run away
have wanted this for almost
all my life
even done it
a few times
and every time it’s better

ifibreathethebreathyouhaveformeandletyoutakesomethingfromme
althoughyouthinkyoumightbegivingitisonlysacrificehownicetosplice
asouloficewithsomethingbeatingmaybebleedingmaybebored

how boring
(which can mean
making holes, you know)

you ask me if I ever missed
the friends I never had
all I know is all or nothing
so I prefer the kind I can consume
not you

they tell you there’s no use in traveling
wherever you go, there you are
it works that way this way too

ambiguity is golden in the way of
things worth commerce and capital 


_