this is a secret do not tell a soul or I will have to kill you

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

Is this pink eye?

Residue builds up in the wet, pink pockets of my eye sockets: Sleep-boogers, eyeliner, eyelashes red dye, seawater, a dog hair orange peels, pine needles, various ashes believe it or not, one time I even found a guitar pick in there

m.e. 2020

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

life is like a radiator in january

contacts glued to my eyeballs like cement

and a hazy shimmer of hot asphalt and sunshine

warm me in my new blue coat

BART at 10 am on a Monday

and I’m feeling like a crumpled napkin

discarded on the floor of Starbucks

I can’t drink anymore

I do, but I can’t

I’m hazy, foggy, a little crazy

and can’t see very well

after 2 rums and cokes 

But he held me and I held him

Mutual exchange of warmth

and it felt good

(m.e. 2020)

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

who knows what the heck this ones about

Happy is fleeting like foxes and rats

Sometimes I think the only thing I know

 how to write about is sex

clinical, heterosexually stagnant and disinfected

lips on lips like airbags in a 2 car pile-up

expanding and conforming to one another 

hand in hand, separated by the thin dusty blue of hospital gloves

but inside our palms are alive and sweaty

- Me, 2020

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

Flesh is Good Sometimes

Intimacy leaves me raw 

and exposed for 2-3 business days

 A charade is when

The hand tracing your elbow

Doesn’t have a favorite color

Or a book that they think you should read

Or a song that their mother used to sing to them

Take my meaty hunk of a heart

And squeeze it

Look into my eyes and hold it in your hands

And touch me

Touch my organs and milky bones

Let the skin and fat fall away like a silk ribbon on a package

Dip your hand into the glistening resin that flows through me

When I say “eat me out” in the courtyard of the women’s union

I mean shove your hand into my chest as far as it goes 

and eat

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

Mixed Martial Arts

If you’re below my weight class

I’ll beat the shit out of you 

Like I’m beating the shit 

Out of myself

And my favorite poets will croon in my ear

As I watch your face implode

Guts lengthen to graze the floor

Like an arthritic senior 

Touching his toes

Leonard Cohen will whisper of love and sex 

And the feeling of someone inside you

And I’ll cry until it hurts

And stare into the bloodied mirror

Like a wild animal 

- Me, 2019

[reallyhorriblepoetry]

Journey to Psychiatry

I could be in Vietnam

Or at least watching a movie about it

The square reflection on the bus window

is a movie scene with grass

And we on the bus are crowded together watching it

There’s a lot of bad poetry in me

Oodles of it, like that magic trick where

He keeps pulling and pulling the handkerchief

and it just keeps coming 

when you get to the end there’s nothing left

That’s when the good stuff comes

(or so I’ve been told)

Anyway

The bus sings down the road

And the interior is blue and warm

And someone smells good, like coconut

It aint me.

-Me, 2019