Infliction

At the time, I was nervous

for living,

when no one else

 

wanted to talk with my mind.

You have no free time

to sacrifice, nor do I.

 

All our time is filled up

with taking others for granted.

Yet we talk on the phone

every couple of years,

and become friends

 

over preferred lovers.

When  we were lovers,

we loved each other,

we lamented our skin

 

As old lovers do.

It never gets old. Your skin is my map

home.

Time makes clouds

of us all.

 

I have no hard feelings

over deleting you

It is merely a word. Define it.

Gone, evaporated. Hack me!

 

The moments are in hearts

reliving the kisses

and the touching

 

every spare day

I spent it all. Poor again

loveless;

Childless.

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Never Tell

I can never tell who loves me anymore

they like to rehash old shit

from five years ago

when I wasn’t the same person.

They like to pretend they know me

because they read my poems.

I can never tell who needs me anymore

they live their own life

without calling me

or texting me a simple hello.

I can never tell who wants me anymore

they don’t say “i want you”

they ignore me

and make me feel useless

and hated.

I can never tell the time anymore

it keeps on making my future

unattainable.

I am losing my witching powers

and becoming too normal

I dislike people

and only want them one on one.

Groups are killing my spirit

eating up my leftovers

and wiping their mouth

with glee

at my destruction.

I just can’t tell anymore

if love

is real.

7 songs

I was reading Truly Madly Guilty

in my t-shirt and underwear

under the blankets

away from the -25 Montreal cold.

When seven songs arrived

at my doorstop

that killed me in a slow

musical dance.

Each one had a story to tell

like a poem

each voice had locks and keys

to a mysterious track

in Old Montreal, the one I would

stare at every day for seven years

while I worked at that bar.

I want to smoke now

kill my lungs

but it has been two

and a half years

I have not killed myself

that way. I could drink instead

and throw up my pain.

Your hand is somehow

in my heart and on my skin

and your territory

is not even near mine

yet magically you

appear at my doorstop

with seven songs

of heartache.

You light me up

and I believe again.