yes i would admit
the pitch of his voice is just a little bit
mono
but his words
speak more clearly than my mother's eyes

you do like to use your hands in speach
i want to believe
your voice has enough for me
that i don't need any waving
any inconsistent hand flapping

when you stand against the wall
staring
watching me work my swollen knuckles
your eyes looked past this rotting flesh

then the time i tried to make spaghetti
without a shirt
when i carried the pot over to the sink
the heated water was too much for my chest

i don't believe in a thing called love.
how could you?

it's easy, just question the cause.
do you feel butterflies around her?

no, i feel her presence swelling within me.
do you think you might drown in her?

if i could.
would your hand grip hers?

every gasping second.
what is it?

what is what?
that grin on your face.

can't you tell?
can't i tell what?

can't you tell that i'm happy.
yes but your face is red.

well, it's like she's holding me upside down.

bad-fucking ass.

DUDE!
you need to come see me read on saturday!
i posted everything on my journal.
i'm gonna be reading the final edit of this piece along with two more.