"mejo, can you get down a few avocados?"

twist of the hook
and an avocado falls

the sun sinks
into the neighbors roof

it does not catch fire
though i can visualize it

my breathe
reeking of ghosts
my eyes
distant as stars

but i sit down
with my grandmother
with a box of avocados

and the earth pauses itself
for a moment

and we

have a very decent conversation

about plants

everything

is in relation
to your eyes glinting in the sodium
they produce

our expired tongues

gun barrels smoking
and still

how a helicopter
keeps a spotlight so steady

the way daylight becomes
your hair

how tomorrow doesn't exist

i can feel the earth
buckling under the weight of the sun

pilate esque

he is the meat
of a white chalk outline

stumbles over
tongue
and self

legs buckle

and the floor
rushes up
to his cheek

he'll go off on his own
rounding dangerously steep bends

that he could have fallen
that he could have plummeted
to his death

i didn't try to stop him

and it surprises
me

how little
i care

anymore

while listening to brahms

observation is
a (________) ordeal

distance = appeased tumblers

it is important
not to contaminate

with bias

adjust for heart
in winter solstice

a death
in black garbage bags

black pupils
black dahlia

neat

tidy

corner

of the mind



and soft

like snowfall
how

it wants to kill
me



how it wants me to push

daisies


how i'd need
you

how I need you.




(to die)

parapraxis

i dreamt of teeth
in control
of throat

we were stoic in the day
melodramatic by night

and with the kind of eyes
that might gaze
from the apex of pyramids

the sky forever
stifling our views

the kind of eyes
that might fall

to the floor
as something
sugar-coated-sour passes

but we are slaves
to nothing

skin charred and blackened
from the light world

retreat to the womb
black and aphotic

and i'll hold you up to the sun
like a lit matchstick





realizing

2 C8H18 + 25 O2 → 16 CO2 + 18 H2O

no help is
nothing but normalcy burns

photosynthesis stain
blame strange
song same drain names
mother mary beads
thumb and index

dreams

nothing means
fusion solution confusion

ex colorado flow allen
down all drowned
know hounds prowl
brain exposé say nice
day

dot the eyes
and burn

intruder

a can of red paint
falling from scaffolding

as I try to imagine stability
as I push the next round into its chamber

i think about families
who enjoy each others company

i think about god

(and a can tumbles in the sky)

i think about
the dinner table
when i was a teenager
where I revealed
i was a satanist

i slap the revolver shut
and it goes "click"
it's satisfying to hear
it's solid
it's affirming

a sound that only my weapon
can make

(the can falls. and we are falling)

my revolver blurring
as she comes back into focus
just above the barrel

i'm aiming

and shes sobbing,
hunched over his body

her everything

they're both in their pajamas
they were watching television
i watch

them

for a few moments
intrigued

fascinated with the raw emotion
that runs from her eyes
that emanates from her mouth

(the paint is fire engine red)

i wish it were me
laying there below her
loved
cherished

dead

but

this is real

this is their house
this is me
having found their spare house key
under the welcome mat
having shot a man six times

still kneeling by his body
she doesn't take her eyes
off of him

i pull the hammer back
with my thumb

and a loud bang
accompanies a burst of color
to the floor


It is beautiful
it is art


and she is dead