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Sammie, the First Onset of a Memory

The night before she left, I couldn’t sleep.I didn’t want it to end.
I was convinced once she was gonethat her tiny voice would echo throughthe hallways.
I removed every bit of her presence in futile effort to hide my grief.I painted the walls red and purple.
Where we’d once pantoned our hometogether, I replaced  her pictures with artwork or left nails sparse and barren in her absence.
I was entirely wrong about her voice.
It was the silence that filled the hallways, suffocating the rooms without her to let the light, the fresh air It was unbearable.
I realized a year had passed and soonthe months would displace us until more time, silence and distance was all that remained in the crevices and wide spaces she’d left behind.
In this silent movie, I replay my father fixing the zipper to her Halloween costume, saving the day, as always so that she could dress up as a velour“monster shark. “
In this vision, she is walking with us up and down Cheviot Hills in wonderment of the macabre displays, co…
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Gone

I tried to be cool and reserved, to refrain from dramatics and all my nervous inclinations to flip the switch

But you, you
are undeserving
You've probably got a clue of where we're heading and today while I felt the neglect of that time and space, realized I'm not the one
you wanted after-all

Jealousy slaps face,
Envy in all its shades of green can't even match your jaded shade

You could hold her
You could say you loved her, she was your angel
and every time she stumbled in drunk and you thought she saved you, I left thinking I was already there,
but not anymore

You are my greatest failure, lingering in between every possibility I had, or sending me on a wild chase for the treasure of you, I want for nothing now

I've walked down every familiar street of my life today, miles and miles of lost love paraded in newly painted apartment buildings, bus stops, trainways where it had only been tracks, up hills above the city and hid in tranquility, I have been cheated by yo…

Phantom Sense Soiree

Just like the moon on the horizon,that’s how I see you.
I can’t quite put my finger on whether the illusion comes from what I knew of love before you and think I feel in the loneliness of its absence, like a twitch from a lost limb,
or if the idea I created with you, of you and because of you
is a phantom in which I will forever be haunted by and driven crazy knowing well within it doesn’t possibly exist 

Phantom Circuit

I use to hang on your every word
I can’t hear you anymore from the kitchen, or the hallway-
I’m not sure if it’s the softness of your voice, or perhaps constant static hum covering what you say,maybe it's  the phantom electric current that splices 
in between  us  until its me and my shadow down Mentone Avenue with nothing left to do but listen to Pearl Bailey and wonder where it is that Jim, Jack and John have all gone...

(Me & My Shadow playing softly off a phonograph from an open window with lace curtains, arsenic rain keeping count of my lonely)
*Phantom Circuit:  "acircuitderivedfromtwosuitablyarrangedpairs ofwires,eachpairbeingacircuit(sidecircuit)andalsoactingasonehalfofanadditional derivedcircuit,theentiresystemprovidingthe capabilitiesofthreecircuitswhilerequiringwires foronlytwo." (dictionary.com)


On Strike (This is a Song)

You’re coming out of clear blue and while the color suits you fine I am a little less inclined to follow you around or stand-by patiently
why should I pick myself out of the ashes and the dust
why should I chalk it up and forget the anger and the rust that I cannot simply polish away like I use to do before
I am not as capable as I once was of welding the decay while you brandish your anger caustically ruining the effort I have given time and time again to cull you back together at the wick of my own candle
I have burned too low and morning is not the same because now, when I wake up, I’ve become detached
and chasing you around mulberry bushes or churning to butter at your mere utter of delight, does not sway me
from way over here
I stayed up, ventured out and brought back ineverysingle thing you wanted and you look at me like the clerk with a pinky-ring at pawn shop
greased back, name on his shirt doesn't even
belong to him and the jerk won’t even give
twenty-percent o…

I can be light hearted, see?

Everyone who ever got me is dead
and everyone left is constantly trying to correct me
or pick a bone-and frankly,
I don't eat meat off the bone,
I don't have the attention span to listen very long,
and in particular, additional criticisms about myself,
of which, I can do nothing about
and if you want me to spell it out:

A-D-D

Wait, where was I going with that?
Oh yes, addict, Attention deficit,

🎶These are a few of my per-son-ality.
When the gin is gone,
when I leave on
the oven or the TV  -
simply remember A-D-D...🎶

Words in my head

The feelers and the sad fits; remember Darby's castle,even if not, it only took one nightto burn it to the ground.
My mother couldn't read,barely speak a word of sense,while she lie there dying,but she asked me every visit,If we had mended fences, she saidwe needed one another, to fix itbefore too late.
I have suffered exposure,wrinkled near the grave,I have starved at the table,right next to all that ate,I have wept among the willows,arms breezing to the fingertipped floor,I was drunk among the residentswho laugh incessantly behind the baseball game announcer in my mind, crowded humof the muffled next batter upand the bases are loaded.
Put your secrets 
behind the walls,Keep your coins in a sock 
in the drawer, near your passportwhen all is done and said,I know what I was,
but notwhat I was
for.

Derelict in Love (still has nothing)

The ribbon was magenta,
tied carefully over locks of curls
I'd placed perfectly,
violet hues and perfume
illuminated my eyes, neck and wrists,
waiting
longingly for your kiss,
only left for remiss.

I was in the wind,
circling like a black bird,
toward the light shining through the leaves
of the tree nearest your yard,
where I'd littered a cigarette butt
I kicked into the shrubs a day before,
it was on the pathway
where I walked my bicycle
to lock it against the fence.

I climbed the stairs high-heeled
 and ringing your bell,
I stared censored
as you turned locks,
my eyes were latches
to the door,
your back,
and you then asked me
for a cigarette,
I tossed you my pack,
you took the last, the one
right next to
a half I'd saved for desperation.

I freshened up,
staring at you through the reflection
off the screen and foolishly said
to let me know
when you wanted company
and gently let myself out
with nowhere to go,
no one to turn to,
not a smoke to my name,
not pretty or smart e…