draft for today

I wear a pretty narrow sash
more like a ribbon, I suppose
shiny with little threads of you

and in the sun we melt into
everything we used to do,
a number less than two

you were like a seashell to my ears
I could hear all the perfection so far away
a swirl of water that begged us to swim

but we lived in cold white snow
not gentle flurries
like on made for tv movies

but covering the grass and eating our shoes
till there's nothing left to do but sit inside
and sip booze, sing the blues

sin king

You're sinking in, sin king
it's hard night to be the martyr's mule
someone else's sinking fool
someone else's colorless fuel

gas has a smell, you know me well
and as far as I can tell, I'm not 100% justified
I won't claim I'm right, but I won't say I'm wrong, either
I won't apologize for your lack of attention

so we can go, merry go, round and round
but I don't see the point
when you can't hear your own sound
or shed some old town

so tear me down, but you don't have solid ground
to stand on or rebuild, and when you shoot
your aim is always to kill
so don't be surprised
if sometimes, I die

I'd do, I'd do, anything for you
but you'd fuck and and screw
anything to get through
to the top

and I won't say stop, I'm not putting my fists up
for a false fight
because even when I win
I always lose

I'm trying to lose heat but it fire leave ash
and I flinch at this flame, you and I both to blame,
but it's too big now
for either of us
to easily piss it out

cleaning

I used to love the vein in your neck
when I said I was studying to memorize every inch
I meant it.

I use a lot of mouthwash
but I can't seem to get rid of
the taste of you

It's more like soap now
washing off sex sweat and sugar words
but leaving big bubbles --

a slippery blanket.

fear of recovery

These days I'm not so obsessed
with being medicine for someone else
your anti-depressant
your clonezapam

I lie in bed, chemicaless
no white tablets
no words to fill my heart with swaying
and I'd like to say

that I like it
but some days I am just so bored
I want to be over it, I want to be sane
but if I reach the day where your voice

doesn't make my stomach ache
but instead, I feel nothing,
not even anger
then that seems like

I'd be much worse than feeling anything else.