mayday

Peregrine is supposed to set course for the moon a day after mine once I noticed my profile pic|ture| & a painting of Lucifer have striking things in common notably the ability to hold a grudge I roll my eyes and say must be _^fate
              I don’t forfeit the experience however contactless I derive we must be on flight 370 lost in conspiracy time & again we’ll stumble over pieces like these & it’ll be signs of a grave
             we are both gray familiar with betrayal dreading the connection with what’s _unfamiliar I swear we’re both passengers

–LM

shelter in place

December seems like a cruel joke whenever it swings around every year
      fucking bladed pendulum, Edgar’s creation
            and there I am, digging the pit

            ^I don’t ^{know what to believe} I only know I grew up humiliated for wrong pronunciation & then remember precise for the rest of my life
                          an existence of trial & error like a failed test like rope on rafters like a drug pummeled corpse smuggled through border patrol & call it perfectionist I’m

SICK, sick unto death with that long agony;

–LM

consequences of friendly fire

intrusive thoughts remind me of you
when I taste the blood in my lungs
                 pair it with a cataract sky you’d think was simply gray up until it begins to snow
      & then everything makes sense in that silence that followed the snowflakes just eat it right up
              it was below freezing when I mapped out the tremors you left
    when the flakes settle I’m reminded how it ended
                                        [it was sabotage]

–LM

the law of unattraction

there are moments I’m convinced it’s telepathy where I’m saying my side of the story aloud
              in an empty room
         in an empty house

washing my hair
           brushing it out
                 these shower walls are cherry red
    with what remains of my favorite exfoliant

      lingerie is a personality trait
             and sexy is a pumice stone
                      undefined & low testosterone
      the loss of a flush of color is a tip off

                 grotesque how little I’ve blushed since

–LM

nothing worse than a broken phone

like Alan Wake I’m lost in my own company where the reality is I’m stuck in enemy territory shadows sing silhouettes become people I haven’t yet met I need a flare or a sawed off to protect myself from this Dark Place

wondering if I’m going to be all right everyday I don’t need a clean slate these cracks’ll spread & Christmas is coming I’ve remembered I need a doctor it’s first on my list the moment I remember is the second I forget I want to go back I’ve got my own Scratch

                     just take me back _{to the lake}

–LM

too much time on her hands

& the scariest question is
   what if all along the real aliens
        were human

& if the government wants to keep us separate here on Earth
     why not in space

              sprinkle that on your cake
                          & eat it

–LM

a girl looks pretty in red and blue lights

Thanksgiving left me with a trauma response cue the panic attack
                            syndrome like an unfriendly ex
                keeps coming back
                     every unbecoming hour

                wish we knew better
            praising every sin in the Bible
   as if we don’t know right from wrong
                            instinctively

                   mandatory  do-over
          I’ll stretch out on the dissection table
                             Jesus flipped

–LM

title screen

I fall in love often it’s like we had a life together we met before I’m Mr Rogers don’t you remember being my neighbor what role did you play who was your character to what level did you make it before you returned to Sender

–LM

ceasefire

I’ve tried scraping the heart pieces
  off of my sleeve but I can’t
   they’re all that’s ever existed for me

               arteries & vessels labeled in fatal tense those somber, concrete & taxidermied
    I’ll speak another language when we’re unaccusative lacking a subject

                 accustomed to shelves the pedestal put a new definition to high-rise 3.5 billion times

      rather than devolve the splatter I’ll call a

–LM

kerosene

Universally we’re all souls tied to tragedy
           I gape @ the human experience ™
    first person must be uncanny
            I’m wondering wonderfully how now with an eerie lipstick grin & wilted grimace
         fake tits symbolism is just starting to blossom we’ve all yet to protest so

    have a dry laugh this world is hell complete with its nymphomaniac prison
          we’re so used up
            the orgies are inchoate
as fertility rates steadily decline we extinguish

              who are we mirrored for &
     have we met before are we all
  waiting for
                combustion in this black hole seeking ourselves

–LM