You’ve got my shoes
and I’ve got your bruise
I’m screaming out
“This hurts! This hurts!”
But they’re your words.

God I want someone to punish me.
I feel like such a bad girl
For having such an appetite
For feeding the hunger.

I heard you.
You were screaming out
“Love me! Love me!”
Goddamn it, those are my words.

January 7 2012 

I now it’s the drugged beads of sweat sitting on your cold clammy sin that’s speaking to me when you say “I love you now more than ever”
And I know it’s the monster inside of me that feeds on affection that keeps me coming late in the evening.
And now you’re all I think about. I think about you in ways I never did before. I believe I had my first taste of blood.
I’m touching myself thinking about you, as if cutting through your skin and taking out your pain were the only things to satisfy me.  

January 7 2012 

sour-plums:

suck on my clit while you indent every finger into my thighs. 
so it looks like I’ve been handled after you got your fingerprints taken down at the station

Every one behind these doors
is in love.

At least that’s what I think when I count the numbers on the doors going down through the hallway back to the hotel bar
to order another expensive cocktail that’s charged to the room bill

I think bitterly how there are no single men here in the bar
because everyone in this lodge is in love.
So I take my Lynchburg Lemonade and pace the hallways
thinking about how everyone is behind closed doors
Loving each other.

I have forgotten how tequila makes me horny.
I have forgotten how everything makes me horny now a days.
I saw a very chaste couple in the hot tub earlier 
sitting about a foot away from each other
staring up at the ceiling.
And yet I’m here at what may or may not be their door thinking about him eating strawberries from her pussy.

I want to live each moment anonymous. 
I want no history that comes with a name.
Like a woman
in an alcohol comercial 

It’s December 17
It’s hailing.
I find I can’t remember much of last December
or last month
or this week
Every life I’ve ever lived is so far behind. 

But there is something I do remember;
All the times I ever wrote that line.
“Every life I’ve ever lived is so far behind.”

All of a sudden, I’ve lived three lives this year
and I didn’t even pay attention to them.
A year has passed me by and I hardly noticed it until now.

 

I yearn for all of them to take pieces of my body. 

I’m sitting on the edge of something that used to be a city. 
The eroding, melting edge
saturated by the river
It’s slowly being consumed.

And I feel like I’m falling off.

December 15 wind.

I count and mark the days because it feels like it’s been late fall forever.

The grass is a rolling wave of young green blades and dying straw like grass.  
Inside of the fence is just green green grass
Isn’t grass supposed to be dead if it’s trying to be grown over toxic waste?
Isn’t grass supposed to be dead if it’s December 15th?

Still, nothing makes sense
and I’m falling off.

at the far end of the city is the biggest toxic waste dump this side of the Mississippi River
and I’m sitting right at it’s gates.