comatose.i never told you:i hated the way you smelledlike winter, likefog or listerine orsomething long forgotten.i guess i miss you the wayi miss brooklyn,all thirsty for a song i've never heard, pining fora place i've never been. homesick.--i never told you:i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,like bruises sleeping fallowalong my hipbones.i promise i'll love you always, i promisei'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,and if you let me,i'll fix you well, you never were a fixer.what you are is tired, and you never understoodwhy this fucked-up little townunmade its bed, swallowed an ambien,swallowed you. listen:we were always comatose, clutchingat bedsheets,hands gone coldand quiet.
:in between words and worlds:i.With amorphous regret in my mind and genesis in my notebook I turn the page and there is the hateful etching of your name a hundred times over and over until its engraved on my wrists and under my eyelids, those crimson marks dispersing into atoms when I close my eyes, there is the slight tremble of the summer leaves and the south birds migration, there are the salmons leaping in ocean's tears and mountain's streams and there are cars whizzing by the empty voids between our words and worlds.To you, words exist in worldsAnd to me worlds live in the existence of wordsBut you'll only frown and turn away, and accuse me of being philosophical and boring.Because maybe that's what I am, a cluster of clashing words,Clashing worlds when I shut my eyesAnd clashing sounds like soap water when I just l i s t e n .ii. In the translucent yellow of this candlelight, the lisp of words soften to words sifting above whispers, and in vain I sketch in my mind the shape of your smi