and fuck your christmas right back.

some time ago I think
ing we can’t be all gray
dots convoluted in sentenc
es turn to page five and
read me the
second sentence about my
misfortune as told by
gypsy crystal in
sights

it was a bolt but it was
n’t
raining quite corre ctly
upside the melting window
panes nobody noticed the
paint was bubbled up
and pooled at the bottom
of my finger
tips as I lay on my back
in the static noiselike
brain wave cha nts
convulsions and collars
shocked in tune with
the
nightwave chills

my hair my neck stood
to turn to attention to
frenetic muses plugged in
jutting out corkscrews
from arteries pump
ing vicious contusion melodic
pumping air nothings
fleeing saints set fire
to the
tune of our father
and the
holy ghost
stood in ovation

list 1

fear of heights
fear of smashed face
fear of falling
fear of falling in love
fear of falling in love too intensely
fear of self
fear of others
fear of speaking
fear of ridicule
fear of fire
fear of thoughts
fear of suicide
fear of blood loss
fear of comfort
fear of loneliness
fear of connection
fear of knowledge
fear of others’ knowledge
fear of mutilation of thoughts
fear of destructive behavior
fear of having fun
fear of letting go
fear of ennui
fear of my name

I haven't stopped writing,

I've stopped caring.