Platelets.

in the days and nightcaps before

i needed more

of what for

reasons

to clot and keep

writing

as if words will work out the kinks in

what i bent beyond repair

like paperclips

nails bitten

blood drawn down to

raw skin angry now

exposed at the

quick

i keep chasing down

leads of cold cases

old stories

frozen in storage and

clueless like i am

with time concepts

passing me by wild guess

always feels unfair

like a fight

with the wind

and like you not there after

things got ripped to shreds

black holes blindsided me left

atomic subparticles leaping from

quantum and me like

you know all about this i figured

from whispers and snippets i picked out

of gossip and what was the strand of straw

that broke barrels of fragile in me

was the evidence found in the light of day

i woke up to find you had gotten

lost

or else misplaced in the mess i left last night

i took too long to miss you perhaps

if i tended towards light sleep patterns

or nightlights

i would have faired better in

fights for what you fled from

in first-class flights

the red eyes were all mine

bloodshot reminders of missing persons

who did not miss me or mind how much

of myself must be severed now so that

septic shock sinks a few spaces lower on

my things of interest and to-do lists

tied off stumps of some limb i let slip

through cracks in the floorboards

slack-jawed i slept as if i knew

my times of rest and easy would find me

six feet under sometime after this

unaware dreaming drool machine of dead weight

and gangrene

good thing you got out when you did

because bad turned into far worse in the while

between your flight and when i finally

found a use for all those strings of

handbags you gave me for two birthdays past and

recycled the rest of the tendons

ligaments like lightbulb filaments to me

potential and brilliant things revealed within

such a deceptively strong design looks less for tasks

like connective tissue takes on

than a spool of sewing thread or balls of twine

cast off like proud of prizes unearned in big fish

caught without realizing the line the hook and

baited before its time was up

poor victim unearthed

from the headlines the sea rips new reasons

to steer clear of too good to be true and proof of

fishing seasons frying meals on land and proudly

posing pictures of before and after the campfire

greased up pan seared with what did not go

unnoticed and left holes in schools of friends and

tragic took eggs unlaid perhaps right out from

under my bedhead like hit and run victims have no hope

and parents of children taken by strangers

find no closure so often it seems

better to take a stab in the back than to

have random to leave open-ended collecting dust

in files and freezer burn brings up trust issues

and made me learn at least how to leave traces

of myself at the scene of what crime i could not see

anyone left behind me next of kin or policemen twisted

otherwise connecting dots between me and what was

implied but listed officially as still open

and this is me missing more moments i would

want to photograph for proof of my flesh

viable and worth immortalizing

a priori awareness of flight risks and such things

that wreak havoc on the fibers i twist into knots

to keep my hands busy and not breaking things down

like the ceiling fan crashed down like hurricane aftermath pictures i've seen before

tree trunks and smashed mailboxes on lawns flooded

spilling over with proof

rained down the plaster and dust i am covered with

still even though showers seem rational

good choices i can't find my way around the tiny studio

since turning it upside down shaking it loose

of pennies and lint balls and ceiling fans

that didn't help in silly attempts made to keep my cool

or whats left

in the snowglobe i feel like displaced

and unsure of my context and limbs

remaining and severed and where we all fit

now that you made years and words stop making

sense and i am left here ending sentences i forgot

to pen before you were gone

with question marks and ellipses more often than

even magicians could make tricks into

and sleights of hand lend me no help as i sit

amongst wreckage and fashion a knot at the end of

what made strands of scraps not even

pigs would sit down to and just long enough still

to reach the shower rod and hang me from

there to dry like soaking clothing i let mold grow on

smelling like fish fried long ago

piles of things and stench i blame less for everything

as the days go by without word

from you or milk carton faces

missing like strings from guitars you took with you

and voices that made sleep a sure thing

back when darkness was still comforting and

your legs wrapped up under covers of me with

no tip line ringing tonight

i can't afford to offer a reward and so i bite the bullets and my lip until

i can forget the hunt for what went missing

the shower in the bathroom caught up in red tape

labyrinth i tack it on top of things to find lists

which get lost themselves after i forget to look twice

at ink spilled into things to make points of

looking into taking a hint from what blew up since

i missed a few insurance past due notes and it bit me back i guess i deserved to learn this

the hard way in retrospect

the cause seems plausible now that i have felt the

effects of oversight

and slighted you it seems now like unfair fighting still

thinking of you booking secret flight tickets and jumping ship like a pirate in motion

pictures i fill my squinting with till they shut themselves

cartarized cut off to preserve the life

sacrifice limbs of which i cannot bring back from this mess made when i made no mistake to make you right to

take flights in the middle of the night leaving me

bobbing and weaving aboard vessels about to blow up

and sleeping i did not see tidal waves of

change

coming until after they had passed swept away like

a ghost

i am haunting this house with words you should have heard

echoing down the halls but i might have left out

the point of the story too oftentimes bogged down

with nuance when bottom lines

like i love you please help me will you stay here with me

maybe could unbreak deals and ceiling fans

piles of remainders sloppy left for dead

on wood floors i wouldn't know where to begin

to make clean

or how to find you after your clean getaway

worked too well for irony

and cliche to make light of what unable to track back to you

crime you planned right up until the night when you swiped back my right to guess wrong

and trust blood sources blind faith in forces

of nature and pretty singing voices

that sold me on what this ruse was without

as things turned out

to lie and save face to protect from short term losses

and snake coils hissing split tongued and two-faced

spit lies while lying in grass and in wait for

me to keep sitting like a duck easy target

for you to sink into

recoil from

the face staring back from an oil slick spilled

recklessly left mirrors in places i used to avoid

superstitious

i probably still should be cautious with

with the process i care less for since

everything stopped making sense

and before this toxic wasteland took its toll

in what i avoid at all costs like mirrors reminding me still

of wrinkles and creases the worst of the proof that i used to

quench thirst with shots of laughter

sounds i cannot remember

but shake loose in silent slices partitions dividing the quadrants

of facial features

i realize years after chasers and

cheers

like a life on rewind i listen but still hear

nothing i can find evidence of

what must have been years spent

outloud

and alive

carved out fault lines

i missed signs of at first maybe i was

less blind

than i tend to hide behind excuses of sometimes

when time has passed without

rogue reflections in puddles find me crying for

years on end it seems

easier under the covers where silence is

less unnerving and air pockets leave enough

to my immagination unbridled

images i mumble to myself

inaudible and usually aware of

alone

falling in the forrest and i still will indulge this

question

for arguments ceasefire once and for all

i can tell you nothing

and everything

in third-person

or set it up less like impersonal

and pull the drapes back for

audience i dream up and imagine them clapping

thunderous

deafening

my family my brother flown out just so

standing ovations would start

in the front row with thumbs-up

my father

finally

and encores encouraged aftermath stage crew

just me

cleaning up

trees that fell down

too loudly to tell you how i found out

the truth

about you

sweeping up things with waves of your clammy hands and

brooms

on the floor of what forrest

i am overwhelmed too much for better guesses

and left to wonder

where you left me and if there exists

any map

on the planet which may help me get out

of this labyrinth and lend me a hand

with the blindfold perhaps

as a friend would have known i could use

if only such a person still existed

or even better

question mark-makers

than mute buttons make me unable to answer as i once

knew all about everything

a priori most likely

and shouted from deep belly places

so loudly i assume

and assured in some stance or premise built on specks of whatever

i sifted through the sandbox with kid gloves to keep me

pacified

in spite of the book you threw at me

fights ensued and ensared my better days

in the crevices

trenches of untold depths within me laying down

hands meant for healing but bought and sold instead

and caught red-handed winters past in downtown haunts i lost

what counted

more than whatever nonsense meant less than mugshots

and not stealing things

cheating leaves victims even still

i shift my weight around in the best of things unable to relax

and ease into skin that sags since i first laid eyes on the finish line

and found ways to cut corners

and you out of my life as it turned out

the lies of everything lesser still lying in wait like fault lines unseen

but shifting just out of reach

uprooting huge trees having stood smugly in one place for at least

enough seasons to earn the distinction of

self-righteous thing of analogy

sharp contrast to rootless gypsies unsure of my voice

the inflection and pitch

forward

faceplant the earth rushes up to meet me

halfway it seems

i trip over something so strong it sends me straight down

without awareness of me eating soil now skinned knees

this enormous beast of the forrest ancient tree with roots forced up

from the earth for lack of anymore room to grow beneath the ground

hints of seeds planted by cavemen perhaps

its sap like mummified whispers preserved peaks and glimpses

we gather from researching this and its next of kin as to

patterns of weather and answers to what we won't ever know

about pieces of history sealed up entombed beneath layers of sediment

rust and trees driving roots so deep it defies

climactic catastrophe and what i made myself into a canibal of sorts for

i survived through the end of days fending off mirrors

and other wrist-slicing tools while making meals of my self

spitting out insults i shucked before sucking the meat off my hands

that did so much damage

they deserved this fate i felt like i owed the universe this much in the way of

honesty

and karma like earthquakes maybe and how

appearances make less false confessions than i would guess as to

how many innocent victims claimed foul

played out in countless cruel efforts laid me and people who

had varied tread patterns and centers of balance

different mindsets maybe like minutae subatomic

details differing in the weave

of fabric itself

and how forces of physics and nature

affect it quite independently of statistics and senses of justice

like i had when i missed the ground

and stepped over mistaken wrong place to lay soles down instead

of whatever plans i had for vague maps and whatever

edge i was too close for comfort to

that day or this one it matters less to pick out just one

instance or misstep tripped up by a tree root i did not see with

plenty of light and time to take ease with traversing but chose not to be

honest and humble

i insisted on keeping my nose in the air

and ended up limping to

nowhere that knew i was even there at all

with friends that faired better

in fair weather and

you

who heard rumbles i was not listening as i tumbled

slow-motion downward spiral

hell-bent on crashing apparently

all-or-nothing

dirt laying hurt down like rugburn

unknown terrain and rocky rough ground

breaking my fall

while the rest of the fall i spent

asleep like a bear or else comatose patient by choice

broken down cars ran into the ground as i could do back when

i was capable it seemed

to everyone who passed

judgement

and me by

and back in the days before they took better versions

of me and framed things that made sense of myself

hibernating

in denial of what was broken

and what i took to heart despite the fractures and cracks between that too

like a memory i think might be something

that actually happened

though i claim to be certain of nothing in light of the evidence

and humility wrists of me

weakspots

exposed and bleeding out let fly the things of self-imposed

pressure chambers bloated veins now able to zip their jeans finally

and keys

to a car that i owned almost and

paid for in cash i cost less for since then

when my flesh still made sense to put punctuation marks afterwards

and wash the makeup from my face unrecognizable

and clean

somehow

although i must have been more transparent less of an actress

than i built myself up on

when all was done and less was said

than i had left blank spaces for you to fill my head with before this day

when blindfolds found better ways to hang on

than i did

and made me lose sight of

the path

i was on and the one i came from

the breadcrumbs laid down blown away

in hindsight obvious

ending i couldn't care less about

back then

when weather disasters were forecasted long after

it mattered most

and retroactively waxing

poetic

and explaining myself with less lies

and less capital letters

unimportant punctuation marks

that make no sense these days

like dollar signs

before my name in a sentence that runs

on

and on

leaving me out of fingers

to count on and toes to add with

that still feel enough empty air

whooshing by

and you not there to block it still

to count as fingers and not just corpses

shot nerve-endings too frayed to make connections of sensory implications

and i lay in the dirt for lack of a better way of life i know how to get back to now

making angels i can't even see

like fallen snow we used to make days into memories of childhood

this soil i roll my limbs over makes more sense

than wood floors and mousetraps

walk-ups that had many trappings but still found less reasons

for you to lay down

in bed with me there for long enough to be sure you'd drifted off

i thought you cared about excess baggage too much to

leave me unlatched and clutching a suitcase full of laundry

still wet

from where you dried up supplies long since backordered out-of-stock

piles exhausted

of what for reasons and what you liked

in what i was back there

around the block

from the curb i slept on just now

just for old times sake of what i still can do with what i have left

after missing persons reports made no news to anyone else

they may have known better

than to mute the weather forecast in favor of phone calls filled up with what for

and lies like naked other men

tended to do

back then in my bed and still wander around in between

wondering about you

in pictures i took and taped to my lids

relief from real life

lines incomplete

and my mirror in smitherines

still bleeding my feet are from not learning my lesson

watching my step and my back and less focus

on strangers and aliens out to throw judgement down

hailstones like spit fired i feel trapped by

like tires on top of me

puddles of something soaking through layers like rubber burnt stinks

and the bus i'm under is turning out to be less

the cause of things and fishy odors

shady blamegames and rain i was

unaware of

on its way

rolling in black clouds

i couldn't see from where i lay pinned between

the wheels and the road

i should have used to escape long ago before the lightening clapped me awake

always just blinks and eyelids half-shut too late it seems

i realize the worst of it reeks

of cowardly passive evasive tricks pulled

out of top hats

one-way tickets you flew out of thicker forrests than

wherever you ended up

i can't guess but still

i bet my first-aid kit on this;

whatever superficial artificial phony life you jumped this ship in favor of

you lost out

after the aftershocks died down and the rust eroded down the parts enough

for me to lift the bus up

and i made from scratch the rest of what i left upstairs before

you left with all the keys

i ever would have needed in the world and i realized

a few things about lies of omission and escape hatches i carved out

with tweezers in weak moments bad days maybe less of what for

reasons and more question marks

branded like cattle on my flesh

perhaps i have more on my back that i haven't figured out how yet

to reach out and feel

still i stay here where you once pleased me with

words and sentences complete

with proper grammar beginnings and endings

i guessed wrong about these things

implications i took as proof of life's constant full-circle momentum

complete with a middle and commas

and capital letters that combined with words otherwise left to imagine what might be

something that smells like a title

and pride

i try not to lean on too heavily treading the things i know flutter and sway

with whatever swept up in the dustpan on stage with it today

happens to say and i already know not to listen to the

trainwreck

encounter fake smiles and nodding uninterested

vaguely polite and later it will go down as they liked you

for not making waves and for taking a backseat

to lies and circumstance

inevitable in all things but still i was stunned

when you showed me what you see

in puddles and mirrors i assume you still look

i would not think that snakes lying in wait for what prey they just bit

to fold

feel much remorse or touch cold sides of the sheets sometimes

inaudible craving escaping

my lungs as a sigh hanging like smoke in the stuffy dark room

where i can't sleep so well with no one to wake me or take note of my absence that might

happen if i sleep through whole seasons again

this year i just would like to get this through the static crackling miles between you

and better versions of us

before you left me hanging soaking wet

on the clothesline by a thread

to break

and your mistake still makes me take stock of short stacks of what i found

in the rubble of what was blown up

or else displaced

by jet planes and plans you made while i made excuses

for stains on my bed and spent most of my time

facing away from you

back then

before i stopped dead in my tracks like a deer

left for dead

the train swiftly aiming for places beyond this

important

i wasn't but did not know how so

until the roots that were so massive that i tumbled and cursed them and crawled back

to you while you kept quiet

as to what flight you'd just booked and how many

sticks of dynamite you'd left in your wake

on the way out of town

after you spent years unlocking ketchup jars stubborn

and ears i closed for the night

the door we shared that led us down

to curbs for beds and clothespins flares shot up like nightmares and cold sweat

find me these days in my bed that makes it easier to feel you

not there again

even years later

the fact of the matter holds water

as well as anything left after you poked holes in buckets

of rainwater

puddles of oil spills

slick and i used to mop the floors with

instead of as vases on the table between us a nice change of pace

that would have been

but was never as clear in the days we once spent

chasing down drinks with bad sex i think you knew well

still blessed with this

remaining great swollen sense of grateful

inside my bruised and scarred face maybe less of a looker than once but

no better off then, it seems obvious now

how little i lost when you left roots that held on to the core of what counts

in the earth and stood up

in the face of epic and tragic stories that played out like earthquakes and tried

to shake down leaves and branches but

strong as oak

solid and sure of the place where they stand

and what they still see over the tops of others who lost sight of the sky

is sunshine and everything coming back down to earth

falling stars and second chances

boomerangs and better answers to questions you ran out

before i had time to ask and pretend less these days

since i lost too many fingers from playing with

matchsticks and mayhem

and hands

of card games you cheated your way through

bound and lept tied up undone

frayed ends

of the edge of the fire escape

undone i came up on my

tip-toes high above the treetops but

rootless

and perilous my perch and existence

up on that sixth floor with you and your eyes i avoided

making love to the front door

while i would take many more lifetimes to find

my cause

and effects of what i can find myself smiling at

in front of the mirror or maybe just making eyes at me from the sun in slivers

sometimes makes me feel

special

and able

when it shines just one small spotlight down catches me

off guard and this time

i notice it

from my perch on peeling bark

pulled back to expose the guts of what still works

and tried and true

deep roots of trees and lasting laugh lines

i trace the proof of times i can't replicate

but my feet are planted firm for a change

certainty of this is making up lost

innocence and ideals of broken open what went wrong

between us i never realized

that the things affected me less than i credited

the face i can't find as my own lately for

letting me aim my head in forward facing directions

a compass of some sort weathervain spelling out what to put behind and what

still makes sense

and the sun on my cheeks i feel free to bask in at last as if untethered by what

i look like to strangers and what those who spin judgement into

webs of unhappy words don't matter much anymore now that you're gone

with the last of the leaves from last spring and my hands let the past be at peace

unfurled knuckles at last free up hands

tied up for too long

the years spent clinging to question marks

that need more soil to sink in

so i let them fall from what seems fair to say

is a better grip on things

than what you think i let slip

through my thumbs like you did

so many sunny days since flicking me out of your life like

the shell of a katydid

exoskeleton

i made better and stronger guts from

in the days after the earth shook

like palm trees fragile and telling

fly by night keys to my own door i come and go from

as i please lately it seems less like fleeting happiness is what i created out of air

and dirt and worms with guts

well-suited to survive and learn to love the warmth of

sun on my face i have made up for lost time changes

between this and that maybe less is more when what gets the job done of

finding light in the woods is all that i could want out of today and what works is

what i need and nothing more

too much carry-on nonsense made me a mess and ended up somewhere else altogether

in spite of the trek i made for nothing i have left

still i had to see myself

the absence of alternatives and knees left skinned reminders of worse things than

alone in the forrest and wondering less

these days about spent dollar signs of the times on sundays we used to spend naked in bed

beside ashtrays and filters of what was spilled since then exposed in the sunlight

that gave me new life and made me wake up forget blindfolds and warm up to daylight savings time

which finds me springing ahead you ought to hear all about

the fallout and how i spent years falling back every time finding new things to lose or misplace

the stories i could entertain you with for days and what a shame you are not facing

forward like i am and finding out how to replace old

photographs with color ones brand new and updated proof

i need less of since i wasted more sunlight than tears over you

to fill up the wrinkles and frown lines the gaps drawn deep into skin still my face

i make better use of in days after i gave up fake and play nice and

stopped making worse what cannot be changed

in days where the rain will pass and no guilt or bad blood will spill

from my head after years wasted chasing you

my ears have stopped ringing

with blaming insults i spit at myself once

before i gave up on sure things

and grammar in the everyday things which amount to

whole lists of inventory backstock boxes packed up

sealed duct tape and stacked up high enough by now

to block the sun from faces i feel sorry for

like you and countless

hypocrites amorphous and not so tough

as sunburned battered and fried at the ends

still i made it up and over the odds piled all around the way i'd come in and

i could have just shrugged and kept pavement watching as you forecasted maybe

but i found worms and guts and other freeze-dried reserves deep inside of me

made my mind up to keep the sights set and make it so no one could

erase me

and the ink i've spilled truths into since

giving up the chase and writing lines i put time into

making rhymes pleasant treat for what its worth and read out loud to your better half

of the sheets tonight while they are able to keep eyes closed lightly taking in how it feels

to wrap the words of me around the small of

backs and

roll around like children playing snow angels sticking tongues out

and i want to make sense of others that cannot find better ways to sleep diagonally across

like a crossword by sunday too much to get through without giving up

i want to rhyme more than just right for me and i understand how the lattice unplanted and lonely

must feel deprived

of her birthright

to hold up and make a home for potential but upward-bound lifeforms

in vines and rosebushes

blooming somewhere i hope they appreciate the magic of giving up caring for

details that do not add up to much more than dead weight in the end and when your

rope finds you dangling

with no knot to hang from it seems clear which things you will let go of first

to free yourself from

alternatives which do not work

but serve as background noise and good image makers still

clears out fast from disastrous pathways

where it seems less of a way to die than to live where opinions of others matter at all

counterintuitive and counterproductive a crisis proved

useful as a snowplow coming in inclement weather to rescue me

wounded and sprinkling salt over

freshly cleared roads that lead out from where i had bottomed out and stuck to

the sides of trenches the walls of this rut i made all my own years after

seasons blew past me without news reports or forecasts of better days to come

but with no reasons left to spend on why not

i took the road i had to take back to find somewhere to build back bones i'd lost somewhere back there in the depths of no turning back

only faced ahead for the remainder of this trip i packed just what i wore on my back for

and made good on after initial steps uncertain

lessons learned i want to hang like

spiderplants or vines crawling

on display for lattice lovers

and friendly neighbors

i could care less about nay-sayers now though

obvlivious to what i could only find

in the lost and long gone

and wounds on my surface won't skim the story for time's sake i know by now

not to try

trimming down

trees that matter

and stories that need not flatter the author

but better be caught in the grip of others who might need it

or know it by heart without ever reading a word of it]

having lived through this

and learned to lose

my mind and fall to earth from grace unheard

is the fate i bear witness to date

all alone in the forrest i fell and went down without a sound wouldn't you know

what they suspected was true

all along

i was the only one who could pick out the truth from the line up of

lies and identify myself as better than what i was back then

before what for

was an answer in and of itself

and when i had lessons to find time to learn

about reading between my own storylines

and rhyming things that ought to be strangers

lending sugar and hands to help friendly new neighbors

unaware of how lightweight i feel now in front of the care i unloaded

and back bones no longer broken

as i am also healing in perpetual slow-motion it finds victories in little things

like living through snakebites and wild rides and learned my lips are better left

to plump and plant kisses not pain from where spit flew out from where i bit them and the bleeding stopped over time i realized i did more good for my life without trying so hard

just by leaving behind what hurts awkward on my shoulders might be worth shedding tonight

words waiting anxiously eager to find other rhyming lines and make stories of all this

i was and learned since

i might have been otherwise

if not for trees stood firm for what it was worth to me all alone in the woods

and would not let me fall i guess goodness grows with guts too

like sap and truth serum dripping from porous surfaces

tree bark and scar tissue i relate to signs of the times

and the view from the top of what i went through and over since then

takes my breath away still unties my insides

unmistakable sense of bigger things than this counterclockwise wheel we all turn on

blindfolded and i thank forces unseen for finding my mind in better clearings

space and time than certain old things

i hardly realize i left behind

lightened load feels so right these days

as i go in face-first as i should

and i use what i know i can still do

i climb.