Morning Dreams

In the mornings, I reflect on my dreams while the dog tries to escape the back yard. 

“Roscoe, ROSCOE, come back this way. “

My nurse brother once mentioned a type of bruise you can’t see on the surface. Because I don’t touch my skin and feel you anymore but-

“ROSCOE!”
—I’ve had a lot of time to find my bruises. 

“Good boy RoRo, stay this way.”

In my dream we were cordial to one another and I felt so much forgiveness for you in that space.

“How was your trip to New York? I’m glad to see you doing well.”

I wake up and realize that Roscoe isn’t in this space.

“BAD BOY, get in the house. Every time I trust you, you run off, baby!”

My sister calls to tell me that I was in her dreams last night. 

I make Roscoe his breakfast. 

In her dream she could see where I was sitting but not the exact location. She drove from Florida to Memphis looking. 

She drove for hours in her dream to find me. 

Roscoe is already well asleep. Ready for his day. Moving his legs lightly. What are his dreams?

When I go back and over all the things that you’ve done to me, how do I create forgiveness in a space that you didn’t want to be in? 

How do I be kind when my whole body still rages about you?

Paloma

There is a bitterness

with every bite, as the juice trickles down your chin. 

And you grin 

within 

the duality

as tequila cools your mouth 

but warms your skin. 

Pain is fleeting, 

pain’s not sin

but pleasure is her vendable twin. 

There is a sweetness

in the squeeze, as it gets roughly stirred,

it spins. 

I spin. 

If my mind became clear

I’d tell you then

I’m really only used to gin. 

past. Dreams

I won’t regret

the dreams I had

with you in 

mind. You drenched my

eyes with your 

words. I can’t understand my

story with out you in my

past. Dreams 

don’t die when people 

leave. You’ll always 

be in my

past. Dreams

continue. Will you

dream of me too?

10/06/19

The hardest thing in life is swallowing “I love you”.

But it be harder, for me, to keep wallowing in untrue...

                ....niceties, formalities, rehearsed varieties 

all leading to emotional distressing mediocrities.

Sobriety, bitingly, never filling this cavity. 

Is it you or me who hasn’t seen this decisively?

It was impossible for me to swallow “I love you”.

But it’s possible that I just allow my own undo...

           .....from reality, totality, especially neutrality, 

from being able to hold a sense of my own morality.

When I say I want friendship, I don’t want all the pageantry. 

9/18/19

I’ve made my bed every day for 33 days

Making crisp lines before I’ve even started the pot

I forgot to take my medicine for a couple days

I used to keep it next to our coffee maker

I’ve made my bed for 33 days in a row

It has become second nature, a flick of the wrist and I’m smoothing and I’m done

I haven’t shaved in over a month

Sometimes I workout twice a day though

I’ve made my bed for 33 days in a row

But I never unpacked my suitcase 

It has been 33 days and I spend time differently

Can you tell?

9/14/19

I wipe the counters down thoroughly 

With the idea that you might see this

We opened our reposado and looked up at the moon

“It won’t appear like this for another 30 years.” I said

I rinse my sink out the way you would

Perhaps, just maybe, you’ll see it

I’m unsure it the harvest moon or the tequila

Your mouth taste new, or just different 

At the gym I’ve been going further with the barbell 

“Your chest is getting bigger.” You said  

Yesterday when I saw you, I felt new, or just different 

When was the last time that I saw you

09/11/19

I possess love that has yet to be spoken.

What’s the difference between being apart and broken?

We can’t swim, yet we dive in the ocean. 

Because I’m there, and I care, and I can’t win.

And I’m scared you’ll declare me a has been.

Wherein I’m within the only confines where I have been.

So, should we just leave everything out there unspoken?

A word unsaid is a word actually chosen. 

Am I heart apart or heartbroken? 

I possess love that has to be spoken.