manifest

the fear instills itself.  

some mornings I make toast and watch the glowing box glow.  

some days I stare at the ground, the ceiling, the sink.

time passes with nothing on it's mind.  

people forget I live and breathe.

I forget to live, to breathe.

I am a room, only an object.

I am, objectively, alive.

impartial to the hour, a loss of significant flavor.

I am sexless, loveless, I burn cold.

I watch our plants grow, through unaware of their progression.

their height.

What you see is my reflection,

the manifestation of a woman.

outside.

He refuses to remove his shirt, 

the sleeves have been cut off

I've hidden every knife in the house, though none belong to us.

I've never seen a body, a body like his.

the body of a wolf

mutilated, deranged, 

the blood. 

the talk of terminal bliss.

cross hatching skin through skin, motion etched neatly.

I try to read the thought pattern carved into his chest

his stomach, his thighs

his bloated purple lips.

sweetly, I blame myself.

some nights we are beautifully manic, 

we frolic in our bodies 

majestic as our love allows.

today, we are only damaged, ugly.

think of the children outside.

addition.

let go.

developing the best ways to avoid confronting anything; sentimental, 

imagining myself small & insignificant, 

each word that leaves my lips just a test for the next, 

inaudible, no sound corresponding with another.

I cease to speak anything worthy.

palms at heart, I sit

in front of all the plants that will soon replace my presence,

except in bed, where their soil would stain the sheets.

I feel like I own nothing,

Lately, not even novel wit.

or a faultless way to let go. 

understand.

damaged.

a smell reminiscent of piss between tree's in the Don,

the nurse is home. 

wet from the lackluster anticipation to summer.

it's pouring.

craving banality, 

a sedative.

tending to the parrot as patient.

REPEAT STEPS CAREFULLY.

REPEAT.

lacking narrative in his manual

a needle end polished, too dull to puncture.

still,  the nurse drives it deep 

stake to the heart.

still, the parrot squawks 

reminiscent, of a man learning how to fall.

"Don't cross your fingers. Sundays will never change. They keep on coming. You'll be a freak And I'll keep you company"

werewolf.

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf

Comes stepping along

He dont even break the branches where hes gone

Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying

I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying

Cryin nobody knows, nobody knows, body knows

How I loved the man, as I teared off his clothes.

Cryin nobody know, nobody knows my pain

When I see that its risen; that full moon again

For the werewolf, for the werewolf has sympathy

For the werewolf, somebody like you and me.

And only he goes to me, man this little flute I play.

All through the night, until the light of day, and we are doomed to play.

For the werewolf, for the werewolf, has sympathy

For the werewolf, somebody like you and me.

- Micheal Hurley 

fav cover  Chan Marshall