2 or Black Friday

Everyday is ‘Black Friday’
‘n I have no money, no way
2 pay this debt-

I even attempted 2 sell the devil
my soul yet

He didn’t want it;

He even sent
a memo

2 god y all his/her angels,
sayin’ 2 let me go
in

4 heaven

2 grant me permission 2 get in
heaven cus hell didn’t wish
or want

This mess, I call myself, in it
4 an infinite amount of time

Keeps speedin’ by as we collide,
combine then divide soaring

High [in this cotton candy cloud
sky] like kites or more

Like bats blind- relying only on
our ears/sonar since we
can’t see one another

Only hear eachother- into
the future

N’ with broken legs, wrists, wings,
broken-heart-syndrome

I can’t run

I can’t fly

I

Can barely/hardly even walk away
from today, from the past that
had

You

In it-

That past where I could (‘n would)
kiss n’ taste yr face

[So much unedible B.S. on my plate at
the moment that I can’t even seem 2
be able ta say ‘grace’ over it
let alone chew then digest]

Fate is incomprehensible
from where I sit,

Alls I know is that I miss yr everything
y yr face-

Save a space 4 me at that table for two, please?
maybe we can borrow that chair over there
‘n turn this into ‘three’s a party’ type thing-

I’m sicka bein jest another annoying y
loud voice sititn next to you on
the subway

I’m sick’a being the bartender with whom
you experience a petty exchange

Once in a blue moon- love like this can happen
more than twice/over and over again

But jest don’t forget, jest please remember 2 let
lightining strike;

Open yr heart, close yr eyes y yr mind

Darling, y let’s start making
new, true, pretty memories-

I am so sick

I am so tired

I am so sick y tired of being simply
one more boring face on a crowded,
busy street

In a sea of nobody’s

Business means n.e thang 2 me- so I try
to stop listening, keeping these dirty
fingernail fingers ‘n my tiny
yet shiny-clean ears

Then begin mentally fleeing/fleeing mentally-

All my fears culminating, compact
until they jump back into my body
in the form of a tumor,

In the shape of [things 2 come n’ go] a malignant
mass of a lump ‘n my throat

That I choke upon every single night y day

U move further y further y further away
from my mind,

Further from being by my side, further into a hide
y seek reality, a come n’ find me then beg for it
game

U won’t even let me play-

I’ve been ‘warming’ this bench
for an eternity, yet now

It seems that if you won’t put me in/
play me, coach, then I’ll be

Qutting this team- which seems
to be on a losing streak-

[So much for finishing y getting that trophy/
award, I jest can’t afford 2 keep losing…]

‘N hangin’ up this jersey I’ve been wearing
since u left, withought sayin’ goodbye,

Goodbye?

Nobody ever said this would be fun,

It is done:

Hung up that jersey wit ‘Austin/19’ written
on the back of it

Then I take off my black cowboy hat, burry it
in a trash bag

Beneath my empty bed- that u ain’t sleepin in,
for some dumb reason I can’t begin to fathom-

After stuffin said jersey into said trash bag
I then wrap a whole roll of ducttape
around ‘n about it

In order to trap yr essence, yr memory,
everything you mean to me in

‘N to keep memories of u company

I also slip them into that
black trash bag coffin

Under the bed in this jimmy-rigged, d.i.y.,
make-shift dungeon

Where I keep everything you’ve ever given
‘n meant to me

Safely

Bound within lock y key

Ring falling, telephone not ringing-
because you still are not calling

Me!

However, nature is

[She never seems 2 miss an appt.]

So, love of my life, until next time…

[Wish me luck with the toilet/I’m so sick
‘n skinny I very well could fall in it…]