all the other people.

x.

there is someone who whispers oral retaliations
down through sewer tracts
back to the place where we’ve been together
-back in the deep end-
without feet or flotation devices and doing just fine.

and i don’t mean to pry
but have you ever tried to think up
or down
or at all?

you can’t practice with shiny toy guns
but you never miss when you aim
at this pumping red target.

put the barrel to my head


and promise not to miss.

*

it’s more about the music
isn’t it.

honycomb-strings break rhythmically
but only a few people can make music out of nothing;
there is nothing wrong with screaming at trees
for shoving oxygen into the air,

you’ll know when you are crazy
because you will turn on yourself.

it was nothing more than
one too many red rimmed champagne glasses &
cellophane-wrapped packages marked
return to sender
because the sender was too busy
blurring tears with happy endings to stamp on a sticky-note
plastered with the entire spectrum of pink and red.

xx.

she heard once, someone told her,
a voice should never say never
because never is a promise
and the only thing that keep it true
is a little faith in shallow puddles and a letter postmarked
you.

she strained to hear
through concrete walls of cracks and stained steel,
reverberations undulate and shatter everything that’s real
there is nothing touching
palms always reaching for another
and when a finger stretches back
the one first mentioned lingers…

butwhen the greaterfeeling gains momentum&perception
she falls and falls and falls to dust

and maybe nothing really lives beyond the light
-beyond-

xxx.

you can’t force a lie.