an ocean of dreams in the bottom of your mouth

Dear ______

is it fair if I said
every dream I ever had was left
at the bottom of your mouth?

is it fair to call god a coward because he never
bothered to live up to my expectations?

would it be of merchantable quality
if I sold you my heart
for nothing?

will every subway you’ve ever ridden,
will every train bar you’ve ever gripped or every
car seat you’ve sat on,
turn to dust when you
stop?

will the records cease playing
or the cars stop moving?

no?
yes?
no.no.no.
yes.
no.

shut up.




whenever you cried you
hid lies
in droplets that fell onto your leg
like seeds of the devil’s plants.

he crawled under your lips
and unravelled all your
neurons

till you whirred out of control,
words spitting from your tongue
with no connection or coherency
other than vodka and tequila
and little glasses that looked like glass
but were really
just
plastic.

the phone wires got drunk
off listening to you.
they distorted every claim
of love and
every
laugh
so it sounded a lot like
unordered pleas.




from your tongue I found little bits of light.
corners of life that never flashed.
emotions that were never explained.

I plugged wires into it.
stuck needles and drew blood,
dissected it and thought about it
till I thought about nothing else.

you breathed
through August
and cried through October.
worked through November and
smiled near December.

Jesus’ shadow stuck like furious accusations
in the ears of sinners
but you clawed him from your pinna and
blue tacked him to the bottom of the river
near your house.
the river that flowed in the morning,
flowed in the night and flowed
fast.

if I wanted to talk to him,
all I needed to do was lift the water and wipe away the sediment.

you left him there for me.
if I wanted.
























(ii)

Dear ______

you stood in the middle of a fire
and your skin was melting,
dripping to the ground,
the charcoal flakes lost artists abandoned.

through the desperate scrunch of flames, through the ash lodged like pocket knives in your eyes, you watched the world through orange cellophane and saw nothing more than smoke.  you saw nothing more than what you would of yesterday, the day before, the day before that. 

it sounded like gunpowder,
tasted like decay,
looked like annihilation
but felt like

life.

because you were about to lose
everything
you never thought to care about having.





I made you a mixed tape and told you ‘never look back’ because I was scared too.  scared of the gripping hands of winter tracing my spine.  scared of all those faces that were waiting in line to disappear.  take a number and when they call you, we’ll never see you again. 

I didn’t want to be the gravestone with flowers because I didn’t want to be a fucking gravestone to begin with.





you were digging up the dirt,
thinking of how cosy it will be to sleep in,
when my eyes caught yours and I pushed.
we fell together.

and then got back up together.





if a person doesn’t have

golden hair under black dye and extensions that cost a fortune,
a mocking, thunderous laugh,
soft irises that harden then liquefy, harden then liquefy,
three fingers that have touched the silhouette of fear,
a cigarette burn that stayed longer then welcomed,
memories like gas,
a penchant for green,
teeth hungry like wolves‘,
the most beautiful slurred voice,
carelessness like a five year old that never grew or learnt,

then I will not love them as much as I should
because they are
not you.







we saved each other.
or were a permanent distraction.
but what the hell is the difference anymore?

I gave you coffee when you were thirsty
you gave me a high school musical pen that sung
in static.





your mother buys two chellos when she doesn’t know how the fuck to play.  mine won’t let me find love in the holes of humanity.  your father is rarely seen.  mine is seen too much.  you run away.  I procrastinate.  you chomp and swallow like sharks.  I savour and draw out.  you like hilltop hoods.  I don’t.  you don’t like cobra starship.  I do.

but we are not chalk and cheese
because I’ve used the chalk and you’ve
eaten the cheese.





I love you because you are you
and not much else.