Reality is wrong, -wronged.

I cannot punctuate thoughts of
uncertainty
the way your eyes can
puncture
void and withered souls and
I felt spirit growing
back into me.

Girl was
wrong and right and
liquor was the finest
décor,
drankdrank, fast-steady
wins the race.

I feel heartbeat in throat and
girl swallows loritab with
hazy eyes and I, a
continuum of love
suctioned barefoot through pavement--
and reality is
a mess, never real, never
in the right places, mostly
wrong and wronged.

Temptress,
just for a moment please
fuck your students and
feel their hands yearn for
your body and curves and
love,
my love,
everlasting?

Night is this tattered curtain.
I drank you out of house and home and
liked it.
Knees give in to
remorse or
alcohol fizzling my brain
-and your body was pressed
so slow into me,
smooth as honey sticking to skin and
warmth of your breath
thawing my bones.

I am a shell or a spaceship.

Today I took too many pills and felt my feet sinking into
desert sand,
wading through hallway’s dunes with
your body in symmetry to me;
interior alternate angles make
your hands in perfect placement
with what I think-thought-shouldhaveknowntoforget.
Geometry bullshit makes sense of
my body language when
transversals cut across so many different
lines and boundaries and
cut across my boundaries,
please,
into skin,
cut into heart and
ventricles, hands pry
flesh apart and I want
your hands to mouth, to silence
this wild desire and hands to
skin, create wounds and
tear into me, flesh and skeleton
crave your fingerprints as proof of
[(our)my(this)your] desire.
(It was not real.)

Fill me up, my
mind is gone until I feel
what your body is like, until I
hear your cells respire
like a Goddess’s body
breathing for eternity.

I wake up and never know where I am or how I got there or who put me there or if
it was ever really up to me.

It was, I
knew it was and I took bottle and downed it to
empty
to feel you in my blood-
alcohol content; it
swells and rises and
I want you in my blood, in my
mouth,
tongue and teeth,
it could never be enough.

I would never be enough.
It is raining so hard and where is your car and
Where am I?
Abandoned or
popping pills in
dark or the open,
in kitchen when I read your prescription bottle and
your face so close to mine,
reading, scanning,
-labeled, printed, text that
scuttles eyes and
I wish your eyes would scan me
and mine,
scan my torso
numbed by opiates or shock from
your touch.

I drown in
these empires I so sought;
puddles, oceans, landfills of
rum, whiskey, and vodka,
..and MDMA pumping so
Quicksoslow?
I am in someone’s kitchen, thinking of you with
hands tingling and anesthetic mouth
lulling me to
nightmare.