high on the job

someone offered me a calendar
  told me, you’ll need this,  
    I lost my place in twelve hours

today is the kind of day
   they yak about it looking like as
          we reach the end of the world
      I’ve learned sadness is visceral
      
     pure and simple
:     hemorrhaging crystal

like an ashtray in pieces
    disassociated from moment

to moment
         [my archivist is suspended]

                          –LM
              

blink

the knots in my hair are
  indicative of the one in my chest
  I keep getting snared
  
I plead where do I draw the line
    how do I convince myself
    to keep on | keeping on when
    there’s so little incentive
                  much littler time
                  I blink/it flies
   
    & yes there needs to be some,
               just to change my mind/
                    I’ve suffered enough/
    if you don’t agree, you’re in line
   with my maker, what luck!
they must not agree with me either
         start counting my blessings
                                                          for me
the first being I’m alive
         the living are selfish
         maybe one eye blind
         I’m just fine with that assessment
         I blink___________
         _____
         _____
          

–LM

death december

my heart shaped box is
       satin indigo violet, dark
        but beautiful, silky|smooth
  like baby flesh
            your fingers graze the net
      some time

            green is my favorite color
       & not for everything it affords
             nor is jealous for
         but for how it compliments
            me when you stare for
                too long,

        ask to remove the lid
            and I’ll respond the same in
                                               kind
                            there’s only so many
                      hours in a day
                                       needless to say
                      I can’t guarantee much time

        I’ve got a sordid rep & two widowed
                grandmothers in twenty days
           I can only hope I’m not next in line
        I can’t speak for November and I was
     blind waiting for winter that
         I suppose now I’ll have to reclaim
             this black December as mine

            we’re all nervous souls gripping for
      people to hold in the dark online
               the anxiety kills me
     I didn’t think my birthday would be
            spent in black for this reason
         disaster was flirtatious now
              its given me its recipe
          
           if you find me in the dark
           hold me still … maybe
               for a split second this world
        will stop spinning

–LM
               
        

poetry & paganism

Sacred relics
  left untouched
  like a mad girl’s virginity
   [at least, you pray]

There are chords despite the tell
  they decrecendo well
  & diminish to where
  you imagine there’s
nothing wrong but there’s
       something wrong I swear

  red flags & alarm bells

    flapping of wings in mourning
          it’s too dark to be morning
       it’s too dark to
              dream anything but the moment
     
I wonder now that you’re deceased
        and I believe, you can see everything
       will your image of me, change?
      
more than anyone else you had a hand
      in staging my final product
                 the priest was right
about encouragement, at least/
       my part, my piece forgone, defiled

           I know you know what I meant
          
–number two

gag order

My heart beats cleverly woven
                       in your relaxed fist
 the rot in your bones
    glistening merrily [for Christmas]

           i can Never take part___
    active & stoic
           my smile reveals a thin line
                a breaking point///
         I have ceased to cry because it’s
                  all left inside
                         doused out
                held down
             a weight
                       I can’t determine
         if it’s hatred or faith
    [ they both breed on the same fence ]

        
        I am not the same as I was
     《《《《《《《《《《《《《 Before
            there were   so many chances &
               I took every one to say I love you
           
          
LM

adieu to the circus

His grave his pyre is alive
   I swear/ these coins… shine on

cupped in pleading hands
torn away like chiffon
 

 I extinguish this pain
   with poison
& retrieve my gut
  by sunrise in
  [porcelain]

I battle being
           swept by this grief
   yet I cast shade anyhow
        
 though my tree of life may be
   bramble,
             garrote and garter belts
              tempting over every stick
         
I am hiding in it

     knowing what has come to light
and acknowledged it/
       I will never forgive this crime
          against my humanity
                [ simply/
                    pardon/ your twisted
                                     rendition ]

I won’t be stunned by misdirection
    for my focus is entirely thus/
 I bid adieu to the circus,

forward —–》|march!

–LM
(Author’s Note: edited this for over an hour & I’m still not satisfied, fuck)
 
    

Reprisal

Revenge sometimes arrives
     by ignoring hysterical
          cries as you rattle
[ my cage for you ]
 
to preserve my life
      I’ll promptly
      abandon the canary
                                   in the coal mine

–LM

Vibrantly

In another world the columbarium
    wasn’t real

             in that game it was just
                 another quest …

     yet| as we all stood in a line|
         looking up at a wall of
                   closed tombs &
                     golden plaques
                       old enough to be
                   nearly illegible

It became sentient without the glow
                                         [of objective]°
               as soon as
      they lifted the champagne casket
                & you and your single white rose
                                        with it… within.

–LM

[Authors Note: resplendent in unknown suspension, the greatest story the teller ever told was your legacy]
                  

scarce

whining
groaning
caged/bemoaning
I want to feel something else
I wish I knew for myself
                   [What the fix was]
but because
I’m lost
I need your hand
In the dark
I need a hand
I need you|r| hand
I need a hand

–LM

butterfly scales

Maybe aboard my steel eagle
                I may make my ends
                                    meet
              Expect drama elsewhere
                        I won’t be bringing it with me
                  Butterfly scales glisten on the
                                   last iridescent frontier
                           between reunion
                                        & insanity
           I hardly have the wherewithal
                                          to swallow
                                              this loss

Somehow,
            when the owl searches at night
            I hear your call
    
–LM