today is a forest of silence
and I am the joker in drag,
I am the wondrous leech.

Mother, today I bought you flowers,
I bought you flowers but I can’t remember
where I’ve been for the past 2 hours
or why I am stark naked
and cold as glass.

today the words don’t stick
to my inside like they used to.

I hate my teeth.
I bite when I kiss.
I wish I could melt into the scenery,
melt into this faux-leather chair
and become a neon sign that says
WILLING TO PERFORM TAXIDERMY ON SELF FOR A COUPLE OF HUGS.

these smears of lipstick
this tightrope march over my own sleepless form –
they’re not helping either, and –
-- doctor, doctor? --
today the world fell away like a pair
of old pants.

these could be anyone’s legs.
instead they are mine and paint-white
and wrapped around
the amphibious shape of a boy.

Mother, Mother, happy birthday, and thank
you for this lust for loudness.
thank you for a name I can’t pronounce,
a name I can’t down to get drunk,
thank you and please turn off the light.