the mental museum.

“Stop dropping expensive devices, Lauren,”
   is a metaphor for my conduct lately,
     glazing the contents of my heart
       onto my freshly washed sleeve

  [& it’s bloody, call nine-one-one
      strong, a sort of Maker’s Mark
         I’ve drunk presently …
    
     it’s powerfully potent
       like you in a glass-artifact bottle]

    I obliterated my phone screen this time
       it looks like I took aim and fired
         fuck these concrete steps, too/
           & the wayward chill
              I won’t miss this location

I won’t miss this location

      but

         I’ll take the main feature with me
           wherever I go,
             something like the Mona Lisa,
    my winged Victory of Samothrace 
             but with its beautiful head
                                  held
                                  steadfast
                                       attached
   
–LM
     


           
   
     

vi|r|gil

I had two hours of sleep
  I’m starting to come to the conclusion
    that there’s  [something wrong
                             with me, but| I snake
                                through the front door &
                                  still my nerves dance
                                     the tarantella]
   it’s raining
     and it’s not that I forgot an umbrella
      I don’t have one___ I’m listening
       to love songs, they haunt me like
        wanting you___ it never ends
  
              meanwhile,
                this widow on my calf
                   a w a k e n s

–LM
       

the eve of eviction

endurance is a kind of patience
  like watching leaves fall
                                       & flutter
                                       like feathers
                                       back to
                                       Earth

           I’m never saying goodbye
             now that you introduced
                 yourself / there’s a gift
                         in transit:
                I can’t be anywhere else

I have to have it
 
I’m stuck to your side
like Eve and I’ll give a rib
just to be near you
            infatuation isn’t the half of it
  
  Sincerely,
 
—LM
                                         

tuck and roll

here’s why two and two
  don’t make four per usual
     the compound:
           they may be twenty two
             they may be two × two
              they may be matrices
                                which in all three cases
                                     stand individually

now this is more thinking out|
      loud               》                  side
                           the
                            ■
                at 3 o’clock because
                   I can’t sleep &
                       I’m sorry
                         I just
                       wonder

after you
                      too much

–LM

authors note: see you when it’s appropriate to say good morning

the tale

there’s no dragon up here
   & I find I am always awake
                oft alone though
          
     I think I see where you were
                     in my lofty window
        check the prints your hands left
                                 on the stone

       it’s cold isn’t it
         maybe you’d require a monsters fire
                                     to bake your insides
                                           & keep you warm

                       I can guarantee the ignition
                         phoenix have nothing on
                            sideways princes
 
                   even less on a corrupt princess
                   without a coin left to her name
                         just lyrics

–LM
          
                                
        
       

a new lease on life

I’m on a backlog somewhere
  reserving breakable tombstones
      for howling children
        that I don’t know,
           & have no discipline
     [there’s gotta be somewhere
       anywhere|else            to go]

                    where it’s silent as the snow
                      I wasn’t this violent
                                            before, you know
 
                I wasn’t this heartless
                          in an instant
                          & now. . .

I’m gone.

–LM
        

crouched near mass transit

my grey matter self harms|

I’m going straight
      to Hell
      with my father
       my fixation
        & my complaint
   HR wears a face I can’t see
                           [it’s too dark]

                           I can only spy the peek
                and it’s staring back at me
                now if only
                               if                      only.
                                 it was listening

 because everything I’ve discovered lately
            has been maddening
            & I am possessed by obsession
           

return
  return to flannel
    christened/dusted by snowflakes
       which fall as fast
           as I did for you
 
in no time at all//
    foraging for portals
       & scavenging for wormholes
              I am ravenous
               for what’s eternal
                                                  

–LM
 
             
     

dreamwalking

I could watch [this movie] forever
  one where you’re a main character
    people believe you’re famous,
     because you were born ace-high,

conjuring coyote magic

with your eyes/
    
paint the sun again & send it
   so I can see the world in a new light
      once more

–LM

this is Rome

Where are all the gods
  where are the liberators
      staring up & it’s staring back
        emotionless fucking fervor
  like the sky is pacified
       I need your arms
       I won’t lie [but]
       |tongue tied you are

     my favorite masochist
     we’re a faint dynamic
     of equal bodies & equal hearts
     rivalling experience like a video game
     counting trophies

    One
    TWO
    a hundred thousand
 |   paralleled. |

     I would ask where were you
     but I know I did that already
     I know I did that
     Constantly and
     I’m not keeping track or looking
     back behind me tallying bodies yet
   
     old songs recite in my head
     recite| sing
     sing well

–LM

bank on boudoir

the little tears in my lace
  are from my own indelicate fingers
             three sheets to the wind,
                           dealt in haste
     everywhere they are placed,
        your tattoos [& the colors they hold
                                      stand emboldened]
                       
      I try not to stare, but
        I’m afraid I’m besotted
          waiting for the skylights
            to motivate me otherwise
                but I don’t think for a split second
                                               it’ll work
        
              I have to know now
               how you sound
                when you’re thrilled
                 and spill over 》
                  like my cup runneth . .

   –LM