poem x.

driving into sunset, i careen
foot against pedal against floor because i've black ice but no swollen tires,
just burning rubber and smoke and then -
i'm out and on fire and something reminds me, falling down hot hard roads of the last two winters, rolling heavily into
saint sebastian is how he knew he was, how he always knew
drink the gasoline (eat me, drink me)

our bruised boy, our agatha in furs and pearls and curls,
him stark against the sky, tugging on my braids saying, girls,
i'ma gonna get crucified,
impaled on a meat hook, i'm gonna jump into the oblivion which welcomes me with the dark and with kisses
both of which i long for---
and we just got him high and laughed, spooned him to sleep
melancholia and icecream and i'd

something about the arrows and the blood and moving to the wilderness

i'd tried to lighten the mood outside the psych ward
by making fun of the 'risk of elopement' sign but his mother said,
'it's because they escape.
when i went psychotic that time i ODed on valium, i blacked out
in this ward and woke up four hours later in
in walgreens. i'd crossed two major highways. the police
recognized me because of the hospital gown.'

his eyes were hollows when they let us through. he was holding a book
about learning to

1984 and nurse hatchett and where'd you go
what did they pump you full of, ghost-boy,
you used to be so sad, but your eyes were always so bright

we lost you once to the cult but twice to the hospital
coming back from your manson ideals to clear out your room

i'd never seen a cage
emptier
than you