the archive

[cKy]

[cKy]

you have the worst timing.
you have the worst timing and i hate you.
you could not have arrived at a worse time and yet here you are,
standing, on a train platform in front of me,
rotund duffel bag on the concrete, pillow and blanket in your arms.

you have the prettiest lies.
you have the prettiest lies and i love you.
you could not have arrived at a more opportune time and so here you are,
kneeling, on my bed next to me,
my love in your mouth, wearing a big, pink dress in which to bury your arms.

[cKy]

you changed your hair
you changed your hair
gone are the days of a fringe mousey brown falling just short of your eyebrows
gone are the days of sharp endings of hair in your bob cut caressing your neck
now comes the age of itchy, dead, dyed hair, black like the ocean
now comes the age of growing out your hair, having it fall past your shoulders
i wonder,
as you changed your hair
as you changed your hair
and watched the brown natural pigment be devoured by supermarket black
and as you saw your hair descend to places it has not been since you were a child
was i, too, devoured?
was i, too, killed? have you gotten rid of me, now?
isn't that something?

[cKy]

i can't even picture his glowing face anymore
i see damien's face
wendi's beard
laszlo's hair
doug's eyes
i see someone else's smile super-imposed over his face
but, his scowl is burned into my mind
fuzzy with the pain of the brand, searing flesh
this is not the worst thing that can happen.
(it's not?
we don't need him.
we don't, i agree.)

[cKy]

nobody wars for my attention like i, yours
skittish touches & angry red scratches
dying on a carpeted floor
clawed fingers draining the ego in my stomach

nobody bleeds for my attention like i, yours
whimsy glances & brief excerpts of text
dying in a plastic chair
feathered arrow draining the ego in my chest

nobody bargains for my attention like i, yours
vicious laughter and tattered packs of cards
dying in a damp bean bag
spiked boots draining the ego in my head

[cKy]

its always the same her
and always the same feeling
of missing someone so bad you can't bear to speak

an ache in the bones of those who send longing glances
they travel across rooms and are received
but never returned.
those need to learn to deal.

hover,
as she is crowded
as she is comforted
by those who are not you. by those who are the antithesis of you,
and learn to deal.

learn to ignore the burning hole in your heart,
and deal.

[cKy]

does it burn?

does it hurt to see all your pain,
all of the physical manifestations
of how bad you ache

wash away?
be scrubbed from your red, red skin
singing under searing showerhead--

does that burn?

do they worms that work your skin
(sow and reap and sow and reap)
disturb you, or make your stomach turn?

do the leeches make you sick?
because they love you.

does it burn?
does the touch of another blister across your flesh?

[cKy]

canvas for my sorrows.
damage to your nerves makes you shake.
do i scare you?

do you scare me?

is writing about things that never happened your creativity
or your wishful thinking?
you resign yourself to being dragged through the apocalypse
& pointing out the problems they already see.

dead weight.
hear gas pour like a shower in the other room.

[cKy]

eight years too late to tell you i love you
eight years and i cant tell you its okay
"it will all be ok."
hold your hands and your face and your heavy heavy heart

because that's all you needed, wasn't it?
warmth.

i want to lay between you and watch bad or good movies; it wouldn't matter
i want to sit in your car on a long drive and listen to a good or bad cd; it wouldn't matter
i want to keep you close where i can feel your muted sunlight radiate
i want to keep you
like an ember
until i can feed you twigs
until you can lay relaxed on a bed of warmth

[cKy]

simple adjectives wouldn't do you justice.
my mouth or words couldn't do you justice.
you're more than i can say; you're a million things at once; a kaleidoscope showing the myriad of angles at which a man can be viewed.
you don't show me any; how could you? i see them anyway, though i'm robbed of a majority.
you're the shy sun hiding behind a sodden cloud; looking the other way, you don't wish to exist in the light today.
you're the dustless DVD collection sitting proud on a shelf. you are the movies about a deep and heavy draw between two souls; but more, you are the movies depicting profound loneliness.
you're the pull i feel in my chest when i see you; and i only ever really see you in one way. dated. yellowing with age. kept prisoner in an evidence locker or museum somewhere.
you're the want to prove my worth to you and to everyone else by pulling you out from below the ice; warm your legs so they don't stiffen and fall off.