i've been obsessing over the brains chemical cycle

and how it rockets and dives in bright violence

every time we orgasm

and how i pile these peaks and valleys on one another

creating a jagged landscape in my mind

rocky harrowing heights for a synapse to climb

and then a 500 meter drop off for my thoughts to falter off

off

off

off

and so it makes it feel all the worse when i get off in the shower

my stomach glowing red and little beads of sweat gathering

at the edge of where my forehead meets hair

and i can't quite remember if i said your name out loud when i climaxed

to feel the chemicals drag me down the drain

to watch half myself go down the drain

every time i get off

off

off

off

megan makes me wonder what it means to get this off my chest

and where all my anxities go when i pour them out onto paper or through keys

does she absorb me when she reads me? does whitney still cry?

does my mom have this page bookmarked as a way to try and get close to me?

how come i can only write about women? i need to turn my libido off

off

off

off

i guess this is me trailing off

i miss jackson and his slender frame and awkward elbows

and the way he made me feel like a central character in anything

and he was a cronie and a sidekick and more trustworthy and reliable then i ever

allowed him to be

nostalgia for a seattle summer and walking down to the fishery building

for creative writing and then loud laughs on the walk home

how often did i split off

off

off

off

guess i am trailing off now

sometimes i wake up

and my eyebrows are falling out

and the hair on my stomach is cemented down

held hard in unnatural bends

sometimes i wake up

and my arm is asleep and heavy heavy dead

cells spark up the feeling eventually

and i can rub the sleep from both eyes

sometimes i wake up

and my throat is full of mucus and i can't breathe

it hurts like i have been crying hard

or that i should have been

what do i choke back in my dreams?

sometimes i wake up

fetal and alone with a phantom body pressed to mine

i think about all the pretty pretty girls i am awful to

and how i won't be calling anyone today

Dream Journal 13

i was with Ryan walking around a hotel and a little kid came up to us and asked us if we wanted to see magic trick. we said sure and the kid told ryan to take the gum he was chewing and split it into three parts and put it into this bowl he was holding that had three separate segments in it. ryan did this and then the kid told him to hold up his middle three fingers and point them up in the sky, and when ryan looked back down his gum was in one piece again. we said it was a good magic trick and then ryan started to tell the kid how magic wasn't real and that was just an illusion or trick and it started to make the kid cry.

so we left in a hurry and went to the bathroom where i took a piss. the toilet was a huge room that sloped down to a drain in the middle and you just pissed into this empty room, and there was a mirror across from me and when i looked at it i looked like my dad. i was too tall for the mirror so i couldnt see my face, so i bent my knees to see it and then i was back to looking like myself again. i realized i was pissing all over my hands but i didn't really care.

then i was in a car with two women who i don't remember. i was crossdressing in a small black dress and high heels. we were walking around the outside of a giant mall at night and i kept asking if my bus station was in there but the women i was with were too drunk to answer me so i just followed them around.

i hope you will know this soon

that when he jerks off in your bed

after you've tried giving him head

he won't be thinking of you

no he won't be thinking of you

he won't be thinking of you

la la la la la la

and when i've gone soft in the shower

with my stomach skin glowing red

and the water pounding on my praying pregnant head

i will be thinking of you (la la la la la)

yeah i'll be thinking of you (la la la la la)

i will be thinking of you!

la la la la la la

you are the songs that i listen to (you're kevin's lyrics or yoni's q)

you're the pages i get lost into (you're lady ashley through and through)

you're the road and the highway home (and little snow blown haunting ghosts)

you're the stillness in my room (my blackened shadowed hollow womb)

la la la la la la

la la la la la la

i want slender shoulders pressed

and little rippling back muscles under pale skin

a graceful bow running smooth to hips

and parted lips

and slowly parted thighs so so so..

fevered frenzied searching finding fingertips tensed

gripping grabbing choking out the feeling

chests pulsing rising falling falling falling

turning toppling twisting moaning MOANING

breathing heavy breathing heavy heavy breathing

breathing beating heating leading on

to saline slippery skin with sinking teeth into

swelling sin and suckle harshly hardly break the skin

of straining necks moistened splattered by dripping sweat

running sliding off tender nubile flesh

with each concession with each little press

growing gaining losing consciousness and aching sense

pounding loudening meaningful motions find us

coming to a rest

i was going to write about how perverse it is

to have all your sexuality channeled

through a cell phone in 140 character limits

and to have something so foreign

play host to what you find most intimate

to things you should out loud when you're alone

or on pen to paper

or from mouth to mouth

not with dull fingers

not with calloused tips

but with a dexterous tongue

catching and rebounding off hard white teeth

that grip and pull of fleshy lips

i was going to write about how my language has been strangled

beaten back down into brief little thoughts

afraid to venture outside of a sensible sentence

and how envious i am of megan

her words spilling out and bursting seams

flowing over edges with abandon

they are wild wild sentences

they are stallions on open plains

it would be wrong to capture them

to break and tame them

i was going to write about how surreal it feels

to know that they will read this

you're high and texting me now

words pulled taught over limited characters

straining to say what we want

words pulsing

how sexually intense we can get

the things we do to each other at times when no one's looking

but you're mapping out your love letters now

research and structure

research and structure

and i am masturbating with no climax now

first hard then soft

first hard then soft

someone told me a dream about an elevator

is me trying to escape from you

that you are the towering buildings

all hard edges and glass

that you are the looming skyscraper

tearing a seam in a bruised orange and black sky

and i am inside of you

and i'm lost

and i am inside of you

and i'm lost

tracing my steps up through back staircases

and long darkened halls

my fingers reach out dumbly to get a baring on your walls

where is your exit?

where is my exit?

why does your soft steel bend and restrain me?

why do you bind my soft wrists down to your walls?

and when you fall asleep when i say that i love you

i realize i'm drying cement after all