Sour Diesel

told me something. we laid down in the dark night, prime mover and saw something move, drag itself off into the wood. i covered my my eyes, covered my ears, not out of fear, but because i do not need more of this you see.

my familiar. your shadow existence, stubborn, determined to stay in the bitch season, in posse, vast emptiness. i know…this place of no answers is most intimate

that I lay dumb beside your nakedness. You recall my softness somehow and remind me that I can coax healing from lobelia, from asafetida, red paccoon, Symplocarpus foetidus and give breath to the asphyxiated, calm hysteria. Yet how is it that I heave at a touch of your gentleness- Crippled in the way of emotions. I know that I don’t even try to speak to others anymore and wonder why they can’t hear what I say anyway.

that we are all in the gutter, some choose to look upon the stars at times, but what do you say of the nights when we lay face down, tell me.

let me sink like dead a man, the water fills my nostrils, the sage has molded and shrinks in the corner, the sweetgrass has failed me, the poke darkens all around me.

here, just barely. i almost don’t dream sometimes. i try to turn away. i come back. i turn away i come back. you. you are still here too, why not go away? why do you stay? they took my bourbon away at customs. your silver bracelet is a shackle around me, i couldn’t take it off for them, unstable, i somehow enjoyed this.