Punk Monk Press/Magazine

I need time in my own head to feel grounded So that I don't feel lost with all you others. But I went under too long and came up empty handed. If you thought the world was a deep dark ocean take a good long look inside of yourself and see if you still recognize the sound of your own laughter. --Neal Wagram

             Don't be sad pink cat I'm coming back out of the night but it's cold so       I might not be the same in the morning           but you liked that about me      because even though your eyes don't add up when you're speaking straight              at me above the noise of your girlfriend's spazzy heart attack     as I nuzzle you with a slow dance the others think is                                                               because of the size of my   but wasn't all that a long time ago when the silences promised one more go around   when all I wanted was to lie to you for no rewards to the ones for whom the night-birds dance     ...

You didn’t believe me until you finally did. You didn’t deceive me until you could. Wash away the dirt from these fingers- they have been deep inside bloody spaces, thinking all the while they held an ancient, sacred, primal chalice, but coming away with a ragged Tampon River . The shelter came again after the storm as we all weathered it as best we could and soldiered on. Nevermore haunted by nightmare visions of silver cupped lattice workings. Mountaintop chills at the peak of loneliness sometimes suffice; better than death at times; better than fake happiness. With strained cheek muscles, she taught lessons on how to stay smiling even though the worst pain lies within. Playing a clown without a mask, the makeup, lip gloss ballerina dances across the stage in wisps, swirling once again to keep me hinged- attached at the hip with wet tears, weeping for release from this physical prison. The Sex Monster got greedy with lust and held on m...