we are most alive in dreams

Describe the feeling
you had when deciding
on divorce, on putting
him outdoors. After, two
days under vicodin haze
at his request and how,
he crawled into you: half-
conscious and begging
stop
stop
stop
stop
stop. Husband, please stop,
I’ll say the words exactly
like you want, no more
drugs, no more
stop
stop
stop
stop
stop. Describe that feeling,
when the shackles of forced
love fell from your ankles,
tell me how beautiful you are.

Here lives the great
Colossus next to lung
nodes Three or Four,
clothed in gray soot
concrete dust cigarette
ash still hot off the press
of learning, who You were
with when I was hospital
bound, and down Fifth
Avenue across two parking
lots light flashing red then
gone, then red and I’m fading
into Comatose with head-of-
table seating when my Heart
stops. But they shook me
once, twice, and I’m brainwave
awake still learning that I’m
frail and weak for letting You
inside.

I still,
can’t believe
I let you,
touch me.

Night before
leaving, heaving
into a toilet back
of bar behind
falling off door,
remembering how
you asked me to stay
and I laughed, already
soaring high
dreadging stomach low
because fear
won’t let the drugs,
keep hold.

And you tell me how,
that shirt I left
still hugs your body
at night, like I did
only once but
remembering is easy,
because it was my
first night substance
free in three months.

I wish you,
were my only
memory,
of the place I died.

The next big thing,
already happened.

It was called
the human
experience,
and it has died.

Grave marker
that reads:
It was fun
until celebrities
became obsession,
words lost
their meaning,
and social media
replaced the soul.

We’re all
dead. And,
no one cares.

Days have been
cloudy and cold and
bright side of twilight,

sun shy of showing skin.
Everything, that frightens
me lives in daylight, where

past clock ticks sit, slow
concrete sludge drip of
memories wasted on being
lethargic, with hearts and

feelings and truth. Push,
comes to shoveling night
onto the lids of my eyes,

with Death
leading me to bed.

She is turning out
like all the ones,
I’ve thrown away-
Only saying fuck,
when she is drunk
and the sugar-
coated facade
has me in knots.

You’re just like
all the rest, and
it’s sad because
I don’t care if
you don’t want
to be compared.

It came down,
upon your crown
after the words,
“I’m not like
anyone else, ever,”
left your lips.

We’re both
disappointments
in our own way,
but at least I can,
be honest with myself.

That’s more than
anyone will say
about you, ever.

I have
forgotten,
how to love.

Not because
of the people,
but from the
disappointment,
of being alone
and how
comfortable
it feels, draped
around me.

Being wounded,
and begging
to be validated
is not for me.

Not anymore.