BoySlut

Suicide

You walk away
last time
look

deep into the street

swish of your hips
neon breasts

stairway to the roof

you’re done with me
and my kind

seeking the stars
pretending
you have wings…

Broken

Broken
before we met

I only caught a glimpse

your face a mask
your body an instrument

you played well
gleaming in the dark

soft music
of the phantom

with a twisted little switchblade.

Shadows on the Wall

You tried to tell me
a few times when I wasn’t listening

our shadows on the wall
swaying
with our slick sickness

nympho with a conscience
beating yourself into our bed

I was the gangster
continually layering my shell

finding you in the morning
limp in the bathtub
raw and pink from scrubbing so hard

I couldn’t speak
unsure of what I hadn’t done

I could only pat you on the shoulder
whistling some sad song
hoping that would do.

Secrets

The moon pulls us
more than you know,
tearing the sheets while you sleep,
unbuttoning
your night clothes,
spotlighting
tease of your body,
bringing the wolf out of me…

I pant and pace the room
with the moon wobbling in the sky,
pulling,
contorting
me
into something you mustn’t see.

Calling Me

Window
breeze seeping in
whispering
for me to return home

out of this
cold
loneliness
slow killing

will you take me
back
without remembering
all the wrong
I’ve done to you?

Looking Up with a Grin

She takes me
in the backyard
buries me
in the garden soil
face up
watering me
with her cool
squats of shade.

Visions

You settle me down…

Night shadows
across your body and face,
swimming in the air of my room,
wingless nude,
soft sorrow
I know
you’re not really here…

But I take you
always,
keeping me
alive in tomorrow’s glare.

Why?

Sometimes it seems I’m crawling
into everything everywhere
getting a taste of what I don’t want,

poor little worm
under night
drunk,

quickly on the road again
racing away
screaming
in my truck bubble,

too many wild parties
in my mind trap
writing too many poems
on the back of my hand
smearing a dream

putting the brakes on
finally
obeying the traffic lights
like so many of us
men to worms to men again.

Tell Me

Where will I go when you leave me?
I’ve planned it over and over…

Not really sure what I’ll actually do…

Sand in my eyes.
Pudding in my ears.
Lava in my throat.
Fire on my skin.

Tell me once more
we had it good…

Ready to Kill

Ready to kill
the old me
always noticing the negative,
questioning the good,
not believing the believable,
grumpy
lump
continuously squinting like a prune…

Pulling the trigger
now.