She smelled of sweat and loam

she found dirt with her fingers
on your leg

she laughed and didn't care
how would you split this she says

her smile angled like an anchor
sharp while plunging downward

to her dirty dingy lap apron
ass half-cracked visible thong

she ashes and swallows turtle soup
in a haunted sweaty hotel room

teardrop sweat stains on the carpets and walls and covers
dingy dignity at best her knees bleed

she takes the twenty
and leaves

'There's more to man than the liquor and the lust'

2583888

she laughs as she scratches my chest
eyes below my waist she says

you know you're kinda Bowie
scratches a lot harder

a red line below the waist
turns her finger right to crash into my hip

I involuntarily arch and smile while
asking

what do you mean

like Hemingway
a few words mean everything

"take the guitar
and leave the girl"

I venture one kiss for the lips
one for the neck lean and one for each leg

look her in the eyes and soften

the devil always carries change

ever wanted someone to just destroy you?

ever felt devastated by long-distance love or
disassociated
emails?

listening to sad songs
angry
crying
driving and yelling

all the fools
the assholes
this rage...

breaking glass thoughts
fire on the brain
cracking bones on display

this flesh is as weak
as this spirit is transparent

as the transmissions are lost
static is all that's left

Fame is a game and you are beautiful

why should I doubt anything you whisper to me
all of your breath on my neck seems true like kisses from relatives
like what confusing touches mean like thinking of a means to an end

shut up she says

off stage I hear violins shuffling strings heroic strokes
like lips strumming after mornings that you claim
you forgot


good night whispers and insufficient promises
she touches your face and thinks she is
lost looking at your flesh go blank

mornings of consistency fail to inspire you to kiss
girls you have never met
xoxo

simply not relevant
anymore

wax melted wings

it sounds like the bottle lead her to Christ
like crystals lead her to talks with angels

gem-like barlights shining like a revelation
inside a train station mind

she cried one more time as
words and songs and God failed her

dancing broken glass as her head collapsed
her eyewear bounced against the ground

her vision narrowing on sparkling shards
moving towards God in a bar

her heart stopped
whiskey soaked hands gripping a sticky table top

alone and no clarity offered by God or crystals or songs
just another folk singer in brown

just another forgotten strummer for the lovelorn
just another plastic visionary for the quarter bin

but some
still sing her songs

just
not her