playing numb

are the thoughts still intrusive if its been four months,

or can you just be another in the litany of voices in my head?

I’m asking for a friend and that friend is me cause

between me and myself, between

hours of bike rides and the screams of little cousins

between the tequila I drank Wednesday night and the way white men talk to me,

I still remember everything.

 

and the hurt isn’t sharp, not anymore,

its more of a dull throb somewhere between my uterus and kidneys

the way pancreatitis feels once your enzymes reach 2K over the healthy limit of 20

and just like that night my gallbladder exploded, it seems

like I keep retching up more and more and more

every hour on the hour

of the things you did the way I felt

continual flows of bitter yellow bile dumped from the cavern of my mouth

But somehow I’m not getting better.

 

and maybe this means I need an intervention

except instead of a blonde doctor weaving a tiny robot’s hands through my entrails

it’ll be a white man weaving his careful green eyes and soft words around my head

avoiding the pieces that still scream ouch, ouch when touched until the day we both die

 

or maybe like the errant gallstone that blocked my liver ducts, that

scritchy itchy feeling under my ribcage

I’m still holding on to some calcified chunk of what happened

maybe that’s why I still remember the words you said so clearly

every time someone touches my arms

or when the smell of an IPA hits my nose

or when I catch someone staring at my sacred hair

 

words like

do you think that black kid is gay 

or

why do the gays need to have marriage why couldn’t they just have civil unions

maybe they do love each other the way my wife and I do 

or

of course I know that police treat blacks differently, I used to sic cops on black kids when I was breaking the law 

and even

I am waiting to see if you are okay 

 

I am waiting to see if I am okay, too.

 

 

 

Advertisements

intrusive thoughts

its been a month already, don’t you know

and while I try my best to audiate away

what happened

spending every second minute hour day week

playing music and singing endlessly

somehow

I always come back to the thud/thud/thud

of your fingers on the bar

to the ring/ring/ringing

in my ears

like the aftermath of a sad soprano’s solo

(you yelled so loud)

to the sloppy slush sound of my brain

colliding with my skull

as you

rattled me round

like so much sand in a maraca.

 

 

and somehow

No matter how many times I sing

or scream

or beg

my skin still sinks back into the form of your

hard heavy hands

on my face on my waist

that feeling of being frozen as my insides melt

a puddle in your greasy gritty palms

as you gather my legs into yours

your knees leaving dents in mine

 

 

And some nights

when I’m still trying to scrub the smell of you

out of

my skin my hair my soft palate

the trickle of water down the curve of

my face my waist

reminds me of the ocean that poured from your seafoam eyes

while you did everything

and

the smooth oval of your face

intrudes into the blank space behind my eyes

 

 

and once again I’m singing endlessly

frozen as my insides melt

with the sloppy slush sound of my brain

bashing against my skull

as you drag my face to yours

and our foreheads clack together with a click

and my hair is a puddle in your greasy gritty palms

 

and the ring/ring/ringing in my ears

is the only distraction from

the feeling of each of your fingers

reaching around my face like spider’s legs

your middle finger digging into the back of my ear

(could you feel the thud/thud/thud of my heart)

as you rattle me round

like so much sand in a maraca

every second minute hour day week

since last month.

 

 

High (Dreaming on the Hill)

Dry,

my throat is sand

I’m curled up, tucked into a corner

of misery land.

Pills,

coarse pink bugs

Coating my innards with viscous vermilion slime.

torturing my body like a lecherous hug.

Sleep,

its a long time coming.

there’s too many demons,

fevered hearts a’drumming.

Sunshine,

as refreshing as the rain

after the drought.

To take the away the pain.

Sunshine,

streaming in from afar.

You’ve brought me gifts,

succulents treats from the bazaar.

Sunshine,

kind, gentle, sane.

I am blessed,

to even exist on your plane.

Dreaming.

Waking up in a cold sweat,

eyes blind in the dark,

reality blasting my mind: water from a jet.

(why’d you only love me when you’re high)