straits

can a void be hereditary?
a heart pumps eons of grief
in frame stood still as statuary
peering through panes of filthy belief

build gold-lead sarcophagi
to shield a plutonium soul
while desparately seeking any eye
and patience for my rigamarole

there is nothing for me here
no understanding awaits
a husk in metalwork veneer
in straits made worse with every year

burn it

you showed me things
i did not want to see:
dances to songs
that will never be played

i’ll hold them, deconsecrated
in my hollow breast

i gave you things
you did not want to carry:
hymns i can’t sing
devotions i’ve prayed

you can leave them on your pyre
with all the rest

matroyshka

was born a ceramic shell
painted up and hollow
for a woman to put her dreams in
but she didn’t have any

when tried to fill self
with mysteries and cotton balls
was put to side
in search of new toys

have taken in smaller dolls
but they rattle round
fall out
crack enamel and peel paint

bullet holes and rubbish piles
a person as a tenement
waiting for gentrifiers
looking for a quick flip

break

so seek out poison frostbite
in grey tornado alleys
daylight walking proudly tall, but
the nights will make you smaller
to fit into lives that are not for you

perfecting your lipstick for long nights alone
frozen face sticks to paint
coveting the light of song shone
on verdant little strangers
whose lives are not for you

stand in the cold dark
watch the lights change
yellow red to green
for others

on a former thoroughfare
where people used to matter
now barren concrete blocks
for you

somebody told you that you’d be enough one day
somebody told you but it didn’t mean they’d stay
to wait for you to be someone
whose flaws were worth their time

so you seek out poison frostbite
spiteful fables in the night
and you hold the hand of one who
would not ever shine that light, trying
to fit into lives that are not for you

fuck albany

the river looks like static in the dark
this city of barricades
a home to no one

it was here i lost my structure
in this benighted place
unfinished nest of highways
going anywhere but here

veins of leaden pipes that starve
dead parks and stagnant streets
time stops here
and falls backward
staggered by relentless winds