Neal

They are
talking
snapping
itching
scratching
hard

they go
latching
onto anything
that helps them
to forget

not one
of them
is really happy
being
alive
being
anything
anywhere
anymore

they all
roam
sob
shamble
spend and
spend

and
spend

and
complain

these
poor fools

these
starving ghosts
thinking
praying
believing
they could
actually
buy life
back

and death,
it comes

with them
never
recognizing

never
realizing or
understanding
the sheer
simplicity
of it all

they die
they go

never
knowing
how

they forged
their chains

they bound
their wrists

they cut
their throats
themselves

 

(Originally published in Provoke)

 

 

and though our tongues may not share a kiss
nor our throats speak with the same laughter
I will content myself that we still share some things:
the sun that shines upon you may shine upon me, sometimes
likewise the moon, the stars
the waves and the rain that travel from your shore to mine
the thin wind whispering through the leaves and tousling your hair
like a wished upon shrine
carries with it the remnants of my words:
I loved you,
I only loved you.

 

 

 

 

 

tear me
from my drunken reveries
and drag me
screaming and
flailing
into the haunting majesty
of these days

tear me
away
from all my thoughts
of her
that my new nights
may beat out unfamiliar rhythms
upon the drum-set of my heart

tear me
from the safety
of my stupid cocoon
and teach me the fire-
show me how to burn
all that was
or could have been,
how to be born
again and again
in the transient splendor
of each passing
moment

my friend,
tear me
now
into the present

teach me and
teach me
everything,
everything
all over
again.