a new poem to let you see i am broken and stuff (1-5-14)

one dead frolic in terms stood by-

those lilted arms of april, those trigger
finger march sonnets, like frank beans
my days counted up and swooshed

they pounded the dirt like a wedge
on the 15th, blazed skyward like balloons
and laughed at me like the internet.

one month ago i was masturbating to thoughts
of death now i am covered in a trillion sacrifices
like pollock backfired on my bellybutton

and that was disgusting to write and probably not true.
but fuck love.

i also wish it was may, every other month should just be may,

with the eagle on the pot, my jet sky iris by the gilded lullaby and with the heart my intent has thudded,
i can hear my veins sing in my ear,

till i am reading this back and every word comes at me like a jackhammer, and then i remember that there was a girl once who lived inside my head
and i think i should make her backpay me rent

because it would be nice.