A History of Us By Various Things

Over-sized sweater. He has an abundance of these, keeping them scattered among his things on the floor of his bedroom. Their appearance being their downfall, comfort and warmth their redeeming qualities. If he is not wearing one of his baggy sweatshirts than you are sure to find him wrapped in some other large, cozy thing, such as a blanket. His skin, and demeanour, always warm to the touch as a result.

Towels. Despite the apparent disorder in which he keeps everything, he is very particular about the place in which the towels are kept.

Glasses. An ability to hold onto objects which are clearly in need of repair or disposal is eminent in the case of his glasses. The wire frame was bent years ago in one of our first few passionate encounters and still, i never fail to find him leaning back in the recline of his leather lazy boy with a video game controller in his hands, staring down his nose through the lenses, like an old librarian, at the animated soldiers on screen.

Condoms. A constant reserve in his backpack. The micro-thin barrier that protected and separated us from each other. Me from his heavy load, him from the flooding wetness. Always discarded and replenished in the same fashion.

Model Cars. The thin lining of dust can attest to the rare usage of these toys. Yet they maintain their place on the majority of the few shelves in his room. When I first knew him, I found them lined up like a makeshift showroom. Now they sit atop one another in collision.

Ketchup. His ability to smother new flavours with sweet tomato always astounded and disgusted me. His strong dislike for tomatoes themselves was even more unfathomable.

Eyes. I never questioned these. Pure white shrouded only by deep pools of blue and green sincerity.

Busses. Our destinations within Toronto and beyond, almost always journeyed by one bus or another. His eyes always bright at the start, full of anticipation. An hour later shielded by drooping eyelids.

Weed. Forced complacence in times of stress. His desire for familiarity and comfort exceeding my need for progress and change.

Dishes. Regardless of how many dishes I had in the sink I could always locate his within seconds. Discarded haphazardly among the pile with distinct red stains. Cutlery abandoned atop, remnants of the meal he most recently enjoyed stuck to the prongs of his fork.

The High and Mighty

I don't want to be there when you're old and dying
Looking back on your kingdom - only 10 feet high,
Crying because you only affected the lives
Of those living within your boundaries.

You only saved the little girl
From a runaway car, the dog from life in a cage.
Changed an outlook
With ink markings.
Fought and killed a bear.

And still I won't want to be there,
Drowning in a pool of your tears,
My finger blocking the hole in your boat,
While you realize your absolute fear.

as answers emerge...

My heart,
Plastered onto my sleeve,
Falls to the floor with the rest of my shirt.

And I fall into armless blankets,
Wrapping sheets tight against my waist
Where your hands would be.

It's my skin
And the pumping of my blood
That warms me
Lulls me into security.

I won't claim to be a butterfly
When I emerge from this cocoon

Just a more self-assured worm.

The Time Machine

I'm learning the secrets of time travel
So that I can turn my bed into a machine
Once you crawl in, time will slow till it's reached
A speed so slow its imperceptible
And we will be trapped
In a moment.

Everything around us will age and decay
While we play, like nymphs, beneath blankets
The sky stuck in shades of pink and blue
The red sun hovering atop a still and quiet city
For as long as we choose.

The Thief

Shrieks of ecstasy pour in through the floor boards
You pull me down so that our bodies both cradle the ground,
My breasts pressed up against the wood,
Your eyes filled with excitement.

The Vessels

Flesh and metal vessels
Protect
Inhabitants of the concrete jungle
Below.

The contour of her cheek
Flattened
Against glass.

She watches
They push, shove,
Painlessly
Past one another.

Oblivious
To each other,
To the patches of earth and life
That seep between the cracks of concrete
Beneath them.
To the eyes
Watching steadily from above.

A breath
Affects the transparency of the window
For a moment
And then dissipates
…slowly.

Rigid (unfinished)

The costume party has commenced
And every one of every guest
Has placed their mask upon their face
To cover up the sombre mood
And any other attitude
That the host would disapprove
Of.

Pick

It seems to me you're just another
Version of someone else I used
To know. I've picked you apart
Examined and rebuilt you
So many times I could do it with eyes closed.
I need a change, need you to be
More than man or memory, so I'll take
Your parts and build you wrong
Leave you be, and if you're strong
And if it's right and it's your will
You with knife and good intentions
Will tear open my heart,
And pick me apart,
While I lie still with no contention.

Sniff Sniff Ahhh

Desperation sits alone
In a coffee shop by your house
Where the empty din surrounds, confounds,
Clutters the mind with mottled words,
And hides the collecting, ever growing,
Piles of shit that accumulate.

One step into the cold white world,
Will wipe clean with the whistle of the wind,
And the sloshing of the snow,
These warm coffee scents,
And their numbing effects,
Uncovering these mounds of crap once more.