Sweaty Dreams | Poems that Suck

 Never read 
              Bukowski
                     before bed.
                       You'll dream of 
                           shitty apartments, 
                               empty, rattling 
                                        wine bottles, 
                                            and  scabby hookers. 
 
                Then, mid dream, 
                    you'll realize
                        you're sweating
                              buckets 
                                   between your ass cheeks.    
 

October Maple | Poems that Suck

 I never noticed before,
        but
          there's a maple tree
             just outside my window.
                 I can see it as I 
                     soak in water that's
                          so hot my skin should melt. 
                        Its blood red leaves
                     are nearly gone,
                   limbs bending in the breeze
               and I wonder what 
              what it must feel 
             like
           to be stripped bare and
          have the wind rip 
         through me. 
           I imagine it would slip
             through
               the spaces between my ribs,
                 maybe curl its way around
                    my age widened hips,
                      creep in where my eyes
                         would have been,
                            or that space between
                                my teeth that's always 
                                  sensitive. 

A Confessional. | Poems that Suck

 Remember that time,
 about 15 years ago,
 when we were driving 
 down some Texan 
 backroad?


 It started with you
 wriggling against the seat
 but soon turned into 
 a desperate scratching.


 "What the hell is wrong with you?"
 I shouted,
 "Fucking itching won't go away!"
 It took some moments, 
 but then I remembered.
 

 Two days before,
 when we were in the shower,
 I shaved your ass-cheeks
 while you washed your face.


 15 years later,
 and I'm still laughing. 

Devour(ed) | Poems that Suck

I wanted to paint
 a picture of your
   eyes,
     see. 

One that captured
 all the deep blue
  and the light blue
   fibers of your
     iris. 

I wanted to
 paint your pupil
  huge,
   you know, 
    like a quarter, 
     or a moon, 
       or a god-damn Buick. 

Swollen, like when
 you would whisper
  you loved me and I
   thought I could tell
    you weren't lying. 

Engorged, so large
 I could see myself
  in them and I was a 
   different
     person, 
      content with the mundane. 

Those pupils would
 swallow me, 
  devour me
   whole; 
    flesh, 
      bones.
       Everything.

And then you blinked.

Home | Poems that Suck

He smelled like home to a girl
 who never felt that way about anywhere.

The deep green of the forest;
 sunlit leaves,
  crushed pine needles,
   and damp, rotting logs. 

The warm, fresh earth after it rains;
  buried seeds, 
   their tender shoots, 
    and mossy crevices between stones.

And the slight spice of musk;
 a loamy buck,
  the creeping fox
   and the parched air of owl's wings.

Sizzle | Poems that Suck

You were a dazzling neon light
 in a seedy dive bar and, like a 
  moth, I was compelled by your fire. 

But just like every bewildered moth,
 I was consumed by the searing blaze in
  what was a sizzle of bad decisions. 
  

Frustration | Poems that Suck

I'm sitting here reading
other poets' lines about
heartbreak.
I'm appalled,
exasperated,
frustrated.

What is this need to
make everything whimsical?
'Heart break is like 
a wilting flower, 
delicate in its pain.'

No it's fucking not.
Heartbreak is like a fucking
shotgun blast to your abdomen
that sprays your guts on the floor,
leaving you to bleed out 
for days, 
weeks, 
months,
years.