inspired by an inspirational speaker

what percentage 
of those that work 
at inspiring 

are honest?

just a sliver.

hope as a profession

is mostly for liars

and people
waiting

to be violent.

Say it again again again

she wants to meet me knowing
that I have always fucking
loved her and she says
no expectations
because we're older
and I think
BULLSHIT
no expectations
just
gives you that
back door

that keeps me loving you
that keeps me begging you

with unspoken practices
and emotional blurring

I used to type until daylight
and then
curl up next to her

the junkyard next door
at dawn
looked like
new secrets
like
promises

after bone ridden nights
tapping keys and feeling
her
curl up
sleeping and smiling
against
me

it felt like a dirty secret
and it might be

Not once, not twice

he gave me his card and called himself DR. RAY
he wanted a discount on his wine
and for the bartender to make his woman

(HIS WORDS)

a key lime gin rickey
and serve her

a serious
but not too heavy Cabernet

it made me feel real but off-center

        

she tied my right hand to the rented bed

before she bit me and made me bleed

Sunday to Tuesday was defined by teeth

she used me as a rock

to rub her rope against

I remember saying please

then 

her husband asking me to explain

she said
that neither of us was noble 

but only she was insane

he came back later

drenched and wanting to pay his tab

he said 
he needed to pray for patience 
and it seemed
like violence
was trickling down his spine

Gospel compilation

she was Dutch
which I took to mean
a few things

and she wondered why God
was everywhere in the South

a Church every few blocks
people ask about your beliefs

in the 21st century
still thinking we should all be tied to the teat
of JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SUPERSTAR, ESQUIRE, ETC.

Fuck
does anyone know why?

Fear of the other and the need for
simple defining of each other and all that
SHIT?

You tell me, outsider.

I'm from here 
and I still say
'God bless 'em' 

and have other
Judeo-Christian ballast
for my thinking.

I still struggle with the snake
before I sleep.

There's still a bit part of me that thinks
those without any God
are wrong and weak and not trustworthy...

Help me think out of this
please.

Jesus shines and he makes me blink.

Frost

You might have heard and it's true

I'm an ass

and I like to show off the bruises that this picture hides

which might be pretty or sexy

or just more exhibitionist ass

but inside it's that path I took in early life

strewn with dead leaves and toys and bodies

forgotten and rotten and sweet



you forget

my dirty feet were never on your floor

and your door was open when I left

nothing hidden

nothing less but

the blood on the windowpane might be a sign

that nothing was right

...and going

she asked about death and touched my
grey
eyes

the irony was too much and she left
coughing

what a hack
we laughed

we rubbed the rest of my feeling
into her skin

creamy white
thing

she chose me despite the warnings

all the drippings leading to my sudden
end

it's not like this every morning
it''s not without foreboding

you moved my flesh to the inevitable end
and I was puctuation

That seeking sinking feeling

she offered herself as siren. after, she tried to be
rough seas,

at one point, she mentioned international waters
and no rules.

she laughed when I said I was
a smooth sailor.

then.
later,

a picture of her half-naked in front
of a mirror

without words.

am I a traitor for thinking?
silence is better.