January

I hate January.

You probably don’t know that everyone dies in January.

But they do.

Without hesitation.

Not all of them get a marker.




My heart’s become a dirty pervert. It wanders my psyche naked in a trench coat flashing and streaking by when I least want it. It should be noted it resembles you now. Has taken your most devilish grin and distorted it. I think you’d approve of it’s use of eyebrow but shake your head at the flashing. Any pervert knows it just looks ridiculous all limp and without purpose.  Yeah. That’s a challenge.





I keep having these grand moments of realization. Everything gets extremely clear and I understand all of it. And then I want to tell you. And I know I’m just as screwed as ever. I’ve been here before though. There were great times on the other side of this hump.




I really feel something coming on. This move really fucked with my head. Have felt displaced so long. Yes I’m saying it was the move. Shut-up I’m already fucked enough don’t tell me different.

It’s this house on the edge of never. It’s this AGE on the edge of fucking never. There’s nothing to do but stand here and be afraid

or jump.

There’s that other January thing. But I would never. NEVER.

There’s a smell in my babies necks that makes more sense than anything has in my whole life. With my nose buried in the satin smooth stink of them I know why I am. Why is so much harder to find than who you know.  It’s chemical and timeless and it anchors me.