into the jungle [a book of poems]

sarasota

they all tell me i

should leave you there,

but i'm too attached to go.

you loved me once on

the siesta key beach and

you promised me things

on my living room carpet

after we made love.

what happened to the man

who called me beautiful and

stayed up to see the sunset smile

on my golden flesh?

where did you go, my love?

i don't enjoy the slow

saturation of nectar tears

that trickle down my

cinema blue beaten face.

if i wanted to be used like

a piece of average teenage garbage

i would've stayed with the

drunken football player

or the alcoholic parolee

that loved me on a sheet next to

the street barely hidden by cars.

you're so worried about my past

that you can't see the blinding present.

my biggest regret was slipping you

into my virgin kiss the first time

i snuck out into the velvet night

to get a glimpse of you.

tell me, what makes you different

than ------ or ----- or ------?

you're just the same and as much of

a creep as ------- was.

you make me feel like i'm dreaming,

like i walk in a haze and i'm

tired of feeling crazy, summer stranger.

your threats don't frighten me

'cause they're emptier than your hollow ribs.

i'll call you when the moon rises and

the sun rules the tides or the bible parts

the seas the way you once parted my thighs.