that’s what makes them gods

we’ll never make it all fit again
edges sharper & the space deflates;
you’ve got a way to measure
how thick blood runs this time.

sayin babe what flavor is the shame?
you wanna be adored?
i could worship you forever,
right up until you fuck it up.
the best thing about gods is
they don’t care when you lose faith —
watch it, you’ll get crushed
under all that ambivalence.

i guess it was arrogant to expect gifts
then again, my birthday’s coming up.
i’m gonna turn seven next year
and no one can stop me!

so say you’re sorry,
go on! ruin someone else’s night
you throw shrapnel dialing the phone
you tear skin dodging a kiss

i’ve got this look locked down
like i’m waiting for nothing
why fill up when the hollow is home?
so yeah — stay empty, baby,
i’m sure you’ll be glad in five years

me, though, i can’t do that
god told me to shut the fuck up
but where else did i get all these words?

sick of men destroying shit

that carbon-black cookie sheet
is (was) a wilton nonstick
(obviously) ruined by carelessness
i’d get another but
i just don’t trust you
not to roast chicken on the new one
(that is what pyrex is for)
it’s like when parents say
we’ll get nicer stuff
when the kids are a little older
but you’re an adult
with a vested interest
in immaturity
anyway
that’s what i’m thinking about
while i’m cleaning the kitchen
& waiting for the mushrooms to hit

you’d like me better burning

we only get this one life
& we’re setting it on fire
how cool is that?

even the xtians know
jesus had to die for what came next
& maybe we’re running toward destruction
because we know how it saves

my religion is my mother’s:
we both love
a reckless dead man
who told us
just keep loving
it’ll be okay

lately i’m blank
like maybe i can’t love
only want
& it’s like —
it’s like blood, somehow

first on the list
last to scream a goodbye
& yes i’m thinking about
everyone here
loves! i feel you all

self preservation never made a good story
self immolation: nothing’s sexier

so:
you can fuck my ashes
& brag about it, later.

benediction

someday we’re all gonna finish growing up
& we’re gonna fall in love
& be fluent in rhythmic notation
we’ll be well-versed in afterlife facts
& iatrogenia mythos
yea, verily
all shall be revealed
& i’ll get high off holding your hand
& we won’t get nervous
when we’re naked
& we’ll stop telling soft lies
about our politics
truth is none of this will matter
love & rhythm & pills & hands
are all human constructs
aren’t you tired
of anthropomorphizing yourself?

this is a long drive for someone with nothing to scream about

here’s a long one for you two motherfuckers off in distant lands
see there’s this guy i used to worship
fell in art with him
the way i fell for you, & you
but harder, somehow
these things never go the way you want them to
you watch them get lazy
you watch them get blocked
this is my oldest story
& we always fall out
due to creative differences

when the act of creation
holds its own
difference (& you, of course)
in its very nature
the bonds are rarer than
the rings–

(look i’ve been trying to yell it
somehow i fell
you pushed on my ribs &
said breathe girl breathe)

but it was him
& the him before him
same as you & the you
before you
we fill shapes & we are shaped
by them & the hymn
before him
& when he came
i stopped singing for fear
he’d hear

oh we’re all idiots
and i needed a win
this is your oldest story
getting naked with someone
who can’t hold a tune
the song you write about them
stuck so deep in your head
you imagined how their voice would sound
if they’d only open up–

(look you’ve got my number babe
call me when you know
if you’re a tenor or what
sing it this time:
breathe girl breathe)

let’s make out and listen to car seat headrest

we can’t have a rational conversation
about all the fun ways my hurt manifests
of course it’s easier when i’m leaning hedonist
& i’m so enjoyable when i’m drunk
but here i am
waking up with a heart full of hate
gagging on nightmares
& i just can’t find the exit
the less i love myself
the more you do
but nobody will ever give enough
to make up the difference

there are ways to manage disgust
there are ways to measure distrust
but i don’t trust the measure
& i’m disgusted by my managed heart
wouldn’t it be nice to let go for a while
if i’m gonna be ashamed anyway
i might as well earn it

i got so fucking romantic
i can’t apologize
o true apothecary
thy drugs aren’t fucking quick enough
maybe if i quit sleeping
i could go crazy again
maybe i’d meet jesus this time
my religion doesn’t promise second comings
& it’s getting lonely
without a second presence

filament

there is a kind of nameless bliss
descending in these quiet moments
so what if it comes with pain
we’ve never been strangers to each other
it’s proof in its own way
that the universe doesn’t owe me sense
or coincidence
and it’s even lovelier watching things fade

this is a sunset on a shopping mall
this is a crumbled pillar in a park
this isn’t that one guy, alone
in his bedroom with a single light shining
i was there, you know
in the filament, powerless
breathing him in the dark
it almost killed me too
but by then i knew
how to take a hit

& so did he, i guess
funny hilarious how we play out
these scripts we wrote
before the world began
time is a womb & the pain
just means we’re being born again
all of us, together

i’m here, i’m here in your blood
& your breath & the filament

(el nino de miel con tomas)

similarity can have edges
& while fiction
is delicious possibility
deep down
we all know the Truth
that one guy
with the bandana mentioned it
once or twice
and he died trying
so easy to blame the ghosts
if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em
we all complain about
cell phone cameras & photoshop
like nobody ever lied in a darkroom
instagram filters are easy,
sure, but it was never hard
& honestly if you aren’t
trying to catch light
why the fuck do you make art?