pact

tick-

ing

tickl-

ing

in the eagle egg skull that pulls the cold body onward to glory,

or gory destruction,

through the undertow suction

of depression.

 

confession:

I killed them all

with the thoughts that I scribbled

on bathroom walls,

and screamed from stages built for gallows.

dark harvest has left my innards fallow.

just hold this bomb

while I go call your mom,

and tell the poor women you're dead.

 

it's best if it's pressed, like a child,

to your chest.

aortic explosion,

red cloud commotion,

the notion of loss

costs a universe of pain.

 

but,

as the plane falls

from a cotton-soft cloud

I wait for the sound of your

end.

 

true friends

always

die

too

close.

 

steer your new ghost

straight to the coast;

where the infinite sea laps

my essence.

 

I'll breathe in your pressence

and dream.