I am so brazen

these days

so fickle.

My skin is dirt,

all smoked and used.

There are better words for me.


It falls

hair by hair,

bar by bar.

The stark ticking,


in your

glittering claw.

So strong

and asymmetrical. A burden

floats off yourself.

Your hair

glints red.


I could do it.

I swear.

Before my tenderness

turns back to acid

and corrupts the memory.

so ungraciously.

I want it photographic.

Not a sound displaced,

not a note stalled in

my caving throat.

You would think I would

just let me have it.

Just this once.

I cram water in your hands

and take all the good experiences.

I could,

I will be a man

when I remember it.

it will be all silk.

One color,

like my confidence,

a gale,

then takes wing,

a separate personality.

Just let me have

the breaking gleam.

You never do.

You never do.