mental blocks

How do I flee?

tell me  how to get rid of

mental blocks

show me how to stop

the voices

trust me when i say

i want you

to curse me

prepare my will

for all these walls

keep me locked inside

myself.

every time i want to escape from you

you bring me back

clean the snow off my car

let go of the facade

and i can complain

about mental blocks

come here, you say, i’ll show you

exactly how to get rid of them…

but you never realize that

these blocks keep me sane

to stop the intruders

from sucking my soul

and fucking up my brain.

voices

i woke up to the voices again

after all that drinking and St-Henri parking

in front of the usual side streets

with bearded hipsters

open door lofts

stolen dreams. Coming out

of Cayenne and Pepper

sexy shoes and leather.

i don’t know what i was

thinking when we had those

shots, those drinks,

wine, and i didn’t smash

into you at the street

corner, looking like

quite the classy whore,

there was some white lace too

enough of it to want to see

underneath. no more questions

about my ass

my poems

just listen to my voices,

or ignore me.

it’s what you do best.

i ran out of cream

have to always catch myself

as I fall. my arms

are comforting

my words free me,

it’s the only way

to breathe from the place

you make it hard to breathe from.

what distance? you’re here,

what time? you’re on it,

what sky? you’re staring at it,

what sex? we did it.

did you have enough of me?

trust me, i know,

i have had just about enough

of myself too. i can’t blame you

for leaving me, i wanted it,

it’s my island

i want to be alone

on it.

Mystery night

Head pounding after drink
binging
creating beautiful worlds
to let in the innocent
and their dreams.
Midnight driving from
the west of the island
to the east
from north to south
listen to GNR to remind
myself of how
the Big O almost burnt
and I was chasing shots
that night
watching from above
always being your angel
saving you from dying.
I see how you adore me
when you look at me
if it wasn’t for me
you’d still be searching,
you stopped when you
found me
and want every piece
you can’t have.
It’s funny how
I see the highway lights
glaring the truth
the voices
creating the poems
under the tunnel.
Skipping conversations
because the poem is
in my blood now
don’t care about yellow
lights, speed limits
all I feel are the words
thirsty
for their paper
to land, to penetrate,
to feel alive
as bodies would
could
and needs take over
this mellow night
of headache
sexy legs you wrap
around yours
like an early Christmas
present.
Do we need a list?
A list of what not to do
to lose a lover.
I will be under my blanket
the rest I leave to
your imagination.
All of it
for it is
and will always be
a mystery.