Lucid (Feb. 2010)

faces faintly seen
in dark whispers
of what may or may not be
a light
or a darkness
rippling
swaying
pulsing pins and motes and grains
weighed against
the background black
the way away waning
the far off farce
of what was once
an iota
of measurable
photons
immeasurably
numbered
bouncing beamed beyond
the moon's own craters
and the farthest
rings of
the Haymaker.

I Hope

and wish the worst
on people.

And I should care, in fact
I should work
to not have such thoughts.

That said,

I hope that
City
eats you alive.

I hope the bloody pulp that
comes out its
digestive tract
is acid etched
and you can
feel

every

single

moment of digestion.

I wish every mugger will
eye your purse
and every crack in the sidewalk
will make you trip.
I hope the sun via the pyramid blinds you
and you careen into the Mississippi.

I hope someone
can destroy your
self-esteem
and make you
feel worthless.
As a sunburnt
mangy
stray dog, who overhears
the neighbors
calling him 'ugly'.

I hope all the fast food kills you,
or rather
ruins the rest of your life,
with sugar-piss
and diabetes
and for every
morning
I cried
You will
drop a toe, or
a finger.

Now no one
will care
what kind of garbage
you put in your body
ever again.

I hope you
get skinny again,
or catch a black
man or maybe
a Mexican immigrant,
who should beat you
but won't.

I hope the next one
enjoys talking about
your job
and nothing else, and I hope
you continue to sigh
and roll your eyes
whenever he tries to talk
about politics, or
a dark star, or
Tesla's experiments.

I hope and wish that I had,
in my worst and most
crazed moments,
picked up that shotgun
and killed us both
like I wanted to.
If only for a
fleet moment.
Or at least given you
a reason to leave, like a good
knock to the forehead.

I hope and wish someone
makes you hurt
for as long as I do, which
is indefinite and unlimited.
A heart's alignment to evil
and consignment to defeat, or
my God's fearful wrath, I hope
it burns and itches like
chiggers in your skin.

I hope and wish someone
lies to you, fools you
lulls you into contentment
and shatters a glass pane
over your head.
I only wish that someone
else out there is
as cruel as you.

"Oh, there's Alex, the
drama
queen, get over it already."
Fuck that mess and
fuck you too, I only hope that
someone mocks your
shortcomings
and mental disorders
and makes light of
your hurts and sorrows.

You would have said, at the
sight of Auschwitz,
"Smells likes money."

And the best, most convenient part
about all this?

You won't see this, maybe not ever,
because
you never read
my poetry anyway.

And I

Chose to suffer
So I could write.

I awoke and cried,
most people
smoke something
or drink a cup of coffee.

And I chose
to suffer
for the depleted
mind
for the addled
psyche
praying maybe
motivation
would show herself.

And then, I chose to suffer.

And I
didn't eat for
8 days
so the twinge
in my gut
could remind me
of your
touch.

And I chose
to suffer, for
every tear a
treasure map
or heiroglyph
from how long ago?

"X" marks the spot
where we first
kissed.

The Shipwreck
drawn in afterthought
near the compass.
Northbound sea monsters
in a weepy, teary wave.

Carbon dating
the dating
and love
and luck we had.

Fossils of
lions
like
mice.

It was my fault,
it was your heart.

And I chose to suffer.