Distraction

The months have drifted by
Filled with bright bits of color
Little glittering shards
Momentary obsessions.

I thought I'd seen shine
Then he stepped into view
I've been dazzled ever since

Drive

I like the dark, slippery roads
Cornering tight and fast
Flirting with the threshold
Enticing danger’s brink

There’s as moment,
Where the tires start to skate
And hazard overpowers me
With an intake of breath

And it could all go awry
With my brow demolishing glass
And my blood spilled like wine
On the dash light glow.

But my faith in traction
Has served me again.
And this treacherous arousal
Is sated for a while.

Thief

You stole the covers,
Walked them out the door.
Now I lay, insomniatic,
In dawn’s light,
And frigid skin.

You pilfered my identity,
Discarding bits on the floor.
Tossed a title out the window,
Washed a definition down the drain.

You purloined my future.
Put it on EBay.
And sold it to the lowest bidder,
To show me how little
You thought it worth.

It’s all right.
I kept the good stuff to myself,
Because I recognized a crook.
And I’ve got a safe,
That you’ll never crack.

Sequential Fixation

They’ve escaped me again.
Fugitive minutes.
The little devils are hiding.
Under the carpet maybe,
Or under the bed.

I can hear them scamper
On the outskirts of my psyche.
They taunt me in undertones.
They jeer at me sideways.
I hate them.
I keep them safe.

I could recapture
These impish moments,
Dig beneath the laundry piles,
Sift through the cupboards,
Entice them with sweets
And reminiscence.

Of course then I’d have to face them
And they have ugly faces.
So I’ll slink into the present,
And hide myself instead.

Desperation

Don’t go.
I’d chain you with words
With expressions
Made metal by despair
If only you weren’t impervious
To sentiment.

I’d bind you here
Sinking my claws
Beneath your muscle,
Impaling you with zeal,
If I could just clutch you.

I’d shackle you
In the insatiability
Of my craving
For your proximity
If that could give me purchase.

But you’re a slippery bugger.
Well oiled with apathy.
Glistening with vacillation.
And though I can sometimes enfold you
You are just far too slick.

Scarf

I knit my love for you
In silver, and platinum
And jet.

The needles were slick
With my blood
And bloody devotion.

I worked out the kinks
With patience
And therapy.

It was 9 years long,
And beautiful.
It suited your eyes.

And you took it,
Without a shiver of remorse,
And gave it to her.

Inner Child

I think it's pretty funny
That you consider yourself
Dangerous

What have you got?
An army guy,
Machine gun noises,
And a squinty face
A tantrum red.

But you know,
I'm pretty sure
That my Barbie
Can knock GI Joe's
Dick in the dirt.

Of course,
It'd be kind of hard
To test that,
Because like you,
He's got no balls.