down down down

nathan adler
and past masters.

backseat headrests
illuminated by
back-light headlamps and
front bumper headlights.

silhouettes or shadow puppets;
their canvas is my retinas
the light pathway for lost drivers.

they look like two people whispering
or sharing an intimate moment.
close talkers of close words
and merging hearts.

every pure and uncovered body is yours.
a flash of thigh
the speckled covering of velvet hairs,
the observed edge of a forearm
but especially a hand,
but, oh, i know yours well.
no imposter could fool me,
but make a fool of me?

inevitable.

how we die

every night
out in that
great openness, but suffocating encompassing atmosphere
pieces of your essence break off
and trail up into the universe.
they stay connected to you
emotionally, spiritually,
but you never seen them again.
and slowly,
your being deteriorates
bit by bit
and drifts apart
into the vast world.

lately

i wish i could say
that i'd give anything to be with you
that in mindbodyspirit i miss you terribly,
but that would be lying.

truthful speak:
acidic tongue and venomous words;
i hate your fucking guts.

i guess it's good that we are all
one.
that i was misborn
into the wrong species, the wrong planet
the wrong configuration,
entire.

instead i should be native
or perhaps
animal or botanical in nature.
but i think, under terms of perfection
i should exist as a son of the universe,
a galaxy or star or distant nebula.
one singular breath of the
exponentially growing cosmos.
a being so large-
an overseer-
that my only function is
love.

reach

it only hurts when i dream about you
because
you were just right there!
and i wake
in the wake
of imaginary you.
and your body
once so tangible
dissipates into hypnagogia.

but i miss you so fucking much

i just want to feel your skin against my skin

somehow i feel
content enough
just to be in love with you

isms

is it cynicism
or realism
as every color of the spectrum
enters your eye like a prism
and reveals
physical truths:
nature and science.
and even cosmic figures
and feelings you can't see
but you know exist;
like love.
you can't
touchtastesmellsee love
but you can close your eyes
you can block the spectrum
and love comes alive
inside of you.
it takes a form, a name
it even takes
control of you.
it acts through you
while you feed off of its
warmth and optimism.

rejoice

can you imagine it?
it's beautiful.

you sear your flesh with artistic passion
and birth hardened,
but reborn,
epithelium-
a scar.
the nerves die with the embrace of heat
but regrow,
tree-like,
through thickened fibers like forest undergrowth.

macroscopically,
the out-branches of
little tactile cells
would stretch in stop motion,
crawl like alien limbs
reaching toward the surface.

can you imagine?

late night campus

the air has a chill
but it's not penetrating-
it's comforting;
habituation.
i can feel numerous bodies
congregating all around me.
sight, unimportant.
sound, unimportant.
though equally stimulating,
for it holds a physical and
almost gustatory quality.
the night lights mix
blue and yellow
tungsten and fluorescents
5600k absent
red, yellow and blue
no longer converging.

the bodies around me close in,
attack.
a welcoming ritual of enemies.
assaulted, and laying in dirt;
it feels right.

"insides showing on the outside"

and the night is now still.

dark blue

THE EVENING SKY IS MY MIRROR!

there are things i like about the day
and there are things i like about the night:
like the bright street lights and headlights
surrounded by the encompassing breath of
aging twilight.
like when you can see
a lit up flag waving in the wind,
but not the wind
and not the leaves
that represent and track its
bodiless course.

i like the warmth of the sun
and the embrace of the wind
and its voice as it ruffles the trees.
its illumination of objects
and its schizophrenic qualities;
the endless beauty of the electromagnetic spectrum
in all its visibility.

there are things i like about the day
and there are things i like about the night,
but the evening sky reflects my mind
and so evening
is my
equal.

fall

dry tobacco smoke yields throat irritating smoke.
the sky is falling from blue
to grey
to black.
with the leaves shedding their summer facades,
the trees themselves appear
to shrink,
cower with embarrassment in nakedness,
falter in confidence from ugliness.
the treeline falls and reveals more sky
but the sky grows dim
under constant cloud cover.

chemistry

some people swagger:
conducting and dominating the air.
others float and move
in tandem.
while, like me, the rest move
as if to stay out of the way
of the oxygen (O2) and atmosphere (O3),
tiptoeing through the haze
manipulating the body in such a way
as to fit through the nothingness.

detaching

my body crashes silently in the midnight car,
exposed,
and organized in a vulnerable way:
arms splayed and knees touching.
the sound of my body breaking
screams your name.
it radiates desperation, greed and sorrow.
the atmosphere in the car is hyper-real.
i feel more alive than i do
at any given waking moment.
i feel connected to the universe,
yet detached from social interaction
and what it means to be human:
probably because i no longer am.
i have ripped apart my pre-frontal cortex
and thrown it away,
allowing the lower brain regions
to take control.
my heart says no.

we need to be in each others lives,
we just haven't figured out how to do that yet.

but it's my broken body's only concern.

dissatisfied

i swear i tasted your breath on my lips
tonight
and i felt my tongue searching
the pathway of my palate
for yours.
but tongue and lip were
entirely absent.
i miss their softness;
incredibly velvet.
if i could have you here
on will alone
you know i would use every atom
to get you next to me.

we are MEANT to EXIST lip to lip
and i'm sorry you can't see that

i smoke my pipe
and stare out at the snow
falling.
i realize
we can't be together
when the snow hits the ground.

pretendpretendpretend (it feels good)

i zombie walk the dark hall
in my sleeping house,
arms spread out bracing for the hit
but instead my fingers gently brush the doorknob.
your words slice through me;
multiple layers both
fabricated and real.
maybe if i chant a phrase enough,
i will believe it.

there was always a misunderstanding
and still, you don't know me.
you cannot empathize.
you jab at me with a venomized tongue
but i know you are just hurt.
and i am here to tell you: it's ok.

you can't hear me

but it's ok.

and maybe
you just never cared anyway.

today

It was a wet fall.

The pavement was damp, but not slick, and lay indifferent to the warm-tone leaves littering its surface. The air hugged every cubic centimeter of skin with its cool-but-not-yet-cold embrace. It was a comforting feeling.
He was on his way home, window cracked with dry fingers caressing the air currents with their callouses and white valleys. He had the radio playing but it was too silent and the road noises were too loud.

His motions were automatic, this route engraved into the neurons of his muscle memory. He scratched his unshaven face absentmindedly as he passed by his daughter's school.

It had been a tough day.

This man worked for a multinational conglomerate corporation in one of the subsidiary companies in a unimportant department on an unimportant floor. He made good money. He had a wife and a daughter. And like most Americans, he was unhappy.
Every day, every morning until every evening, he sent emails, had department meetings, graphed data and talked on the phone. He daydreamed often across his shift. His mind wandered into the darkest, most deviant places. Thoughts far too shameful even to be told to his life partner; his wife. They twisted and morphed from one topic to another, slithered in his mind like a sexy woman, beckoned him with the promise of addiction. And every time he agreed to let his mind wander. Every single time.

To coworkers, he was cold and distant; unfriendly and antisocial. His interactions existed only for business, never leisure, because he was never "there" to take part in such activities.

More often than not, while lying in bed with his wife at night, he felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying a pure soul by having such dark thoughts. This wonderful woman in his bed had not a clue of his true nature. But the more he thought, the more he desired. And he would never let go of these thoughts while still living such a shitty life.

He downshifted to take a turn, blinker flashing faithfully.
A fucking cop, he thought, spotting the blue-topped black and white trap. He resented cops. In the town he grew up in, there were no friendly cops. None of them smiled or protected the citizens. There was always an air of mistrust and fear in his small community, and it followed him into adulthood.

The cop was stationed at the country store, the unofficial hive for the police department worker bees. He made sure to drive extra carefully as to not give the uniformed scavenger a reason to pull him over. After he was sure he was in the clear, he let his mind begin to wander again.

The reason work had been so tough was due to peaceful protests opposing poorly distributed wealth that were occurring across the nation. As well-off as he was, human rights were his top priority and he fully supported the protests. However, many of his coworkers who were conservative did not. During an interdepartmental meeting, the topic was offhandedly brought up, and the consensus seemed to be that the protesters were lazy, dirty welfare cases looking for an easy way out. As reserved as he was, he felt that he was required to speak up.

"These protesters are hardworking citizens," he said, "who are finally speaking up against the financial inequality that has been growing in America, and they are doing it without violence. I admire and fully support them."

But of course, his words were felt like acid by his cohorts, and it didn't help that he was already seen as an antisocial creep. The backlash was incredible. Almost every soul in the room spit venom in his face. What about our hard work! They screamed. These protesters are trouble-making parasites! They screeched. My brother is a respectable police officer who is threatened daily! They squelched and cried and squawked. Suddenly his coworkers were growing in size, morphing into monstrous creatures that were fueled by anger and rage. You can't win against these beasts, the voice in his head whispered. So he folded.

He was yanked out of his nightmarish reflection by a vehicle that was speeding toward him on the other side of the road. He flashed his high beams on and off, not wishing the wrath of a sickeningly pleased police officer on anyone.

The sun was beginning to set.

He arrived home just as the sun dropped below the horizon, desaturating the atmosphere but casting a pink glow above the trees. He sat in his car for some time, just breathing. Every breath raised his chest, straining the buttons of his shirt. His long lashes sweeped his cheeks with each blink. He entered his home with a soft sigh.

The phone rang.

"Is this the Stanfield residence?" Said an authoritative voice.
"Yes, may I ask who is calling?" The man replied.
"Sir, I regret to be the one to inform you that your daughter was hit by a speeding car in front of Grove Elementary School this evening. She didn't survive."

there are times in which i just want to disappear
and forget about you.
start a different life,
move on and
forget your touch,
your breath, your fuck.
forget the beautiful shape of your hands
and how your fingerprints feel on my
sympathetic nervous system-reactive skin.
forget the way your laughs leave your lips
and everything else that has left them in the past.

but the feeling of being without you
is one i will never forget.
and the thought of being without you
is one that tears me to shreds.

wont turn off my brain
wont shut my eyes
wont rest.
though i haven't much as of late.

i keep seeing the same face everywhere
similar features, it's like i am haunted.
a mouth that droops open
eyes that cinch.

where is my lion-eyed beauty?
slipping away, water on saran wrap
at least it feels.

i exist only in bad thoughts and memories

post title here...

my room is filled with smoke
and heavy perfume
from waterlogged oil
that fills the room.
i am choking on its essence
but it smells divine
and is clouding my head.
i drove 85 miles to this wretched town
and stayed far too long.
in the end it didn't even feel like
the same state.
i returned not in the same body
but now i only have 6 pounds to lose.
not like i'm trying.
i've had the feeling
of doing something
drastic,
destructive
of course to my own body.
but i can't stand to hurt
the one i know who loves me
even though my head wont receive that signal.

hunger

jellyfish aneurysm plug:
a barrier to opening up,
a stopper holding in nectrotizing thoughts.
to banish it: i consume it with my third eye
and it expels the demon invertebrate scyphozoa,
the tentacles tickling on their way
out.

l u h v

all this time i thought i was mistaken
but it turns out i was right along

and that cracks open my stone heart
with an overflow of joy
and the substance spilling over
shakes hands with the universe
in a binding agreement.

strings and piano

it's easy to see beauty in other people
upon first glance.
as a constant observer;
always calculating a million times a second
the visual input of another person's face,
i drink in the sights.
but, no matter how much appreciation i have
for strangers or acquaintances, or even friends,
my love for you always shines through.
i can look at someone beautiful
and only feel you.

it makes me happy
that you make me feel differently
than anyone else can.

aaa.

for the first time in my life
i don't want to be alone.

but i think i'm just trying to find someone
who wont let me down.
but i can't help but realize
i'm searching all the wrong places.

the warmer the weather gets
the colder i feel

i look at my phone with compassion
when really,
i should be looking to the south

end this

standing, facing each other;
we resemble parenthesis.

slowly, lovingly
we tear off pieces of each others flesh.

in agony and eventually
there will be nothing left

thanks for dripping lemon juice into my eyes
from your smoke-dried tongue.
thanks for rubbing salt into my wounds
with your nicotine-soaked fingers.

i like the way it hurts.

the only thing that keeps me going
is the hope that, one day,
you can't touch me anymore.

are we worth it?
i beg your answer

fuck beautifully crafted words in rhythm

we can't be friends
because we can't be lovers.

and we can't be lovers
because--
too many fucking reasons to put into
pretty lines of poetry.

stinging, aching

this night is perfect
on the outside.

but miles apart,
we could be 4 state-lines away
and still shooting BBs at each other's
soft, sensitive patches of skin.

still hurting each other,
regardless of time

still inflicting pain,
our lives decidedly separated.

i was truly born to be alone.

i hate rhyming poems but

i just need you to hold me for a min
and let me touch your skin.
press my face into where your neck meets your collarbone,
inhale deep-- it makes me feel at home.

and maybe,
just maybe,
if you would permit
our lips to meet, just a bit?

dear love,

rainbow twine connects us
to the collective body of the universe.
ours are knotted and tangled.
even for a man with nimble fingers
and magnified eyes
would they be impossible to untie.
when we touch,
the knots get tighter,
more fine threads become entwined,
two single threads become one.
when we kiss,
like a harp,
long fingernails sweep the multi-colored strings
and a noise
soft,
beautiful enough to make gods weep
and human hearts across the earth to break
in a moment of unity.
a sound so divine and transcendental to this world
you must strain your ears to hear.
so the next time our young, fated lips meet
hold your breath in silence
and listen to the music.

adore mais ne pas desire

you're always lost
upon first glance of something you've
never seen before.
but your eyes will always adjust.
i'm still partially blind, but i can see by touch.
i feel my way around the maze of weeds and vines
and i acquire spatial perception.
i still need the light to open my eyes,
but my gray matter has already made a decision.
we're just waiting on cardio's O.K.

and i kissed him
the sweetest i ever kissed him;
i could taste the sugar on my lips
against the brick and underneath the night lights

screwed

this burning is innate.
it's in my blood stream,
can never be flushed from my system.
my body is a temple;
you are the faith supporting it.

people question where the honey bees disappeared to.
truth is, they migrated to the inside of my skull,
munching on meninges,
buzzing incessantly,
filling the sinuses and ventricles with black and yellow fur
and tiny, translucent wings.

i've become a time traveler,
ripping a hole in the very fabric of the time-space continuum.
i fell asleep and opened my eyes in the middle of the universe.
i would gasp at the sight of a million sparkling stars and celestial bodies,
but i can't breathe and my body's frozen.
all i see before me are roads i've already walked down,
flashing across my field of vision,
hyper-real with vivid colors; rich as whole cream.
i taste them.
but the moment my mouth floods with saliva
the visions cease
and stuck in space,
i realize

this is eternity and i am lost.

Neither time nor distance can sever the human connection.

SH

mmmmm

high

the wheel spins and hits the flint
it sparks in his voice;
a sharp inhale:
you know, the way virgin breath
from swollen lungs
mimics the voice of its issuer...

i want our bodies to connect where life first began
i want to embrace you in-between sodium waves
i want sea weed to entangle our entangled legs

i want you

equivocate

trying to equate his eyes:
all that slips over the tip of my tongue,
chemically burned on the journey past my lips
due to bitterness,
is the horribly dull, "jade."
such a beautiful stone can't even come close.
analogous to breathtaking,
homologous to iris,
the history of the world
can be learned just by looking at
the invention of the wheel;
cracked in spots, ancient
but radiating warm light.
in just one glance,
i can look down and see the origin of life,
i see the salty seas where organic molecules arose.
i see midnight dust brooms careening across borders,
columnar keratin waving like tall grass in the wind.
i see velvet charcoal
bowing to ponds over populated with protists, bacteria.
i see delicious sea weed
with 40 tiny arms fighting for a bite.

i see beauty.

torture

brazen bull locked inside a marrow jail.
calcium bars mock its huffing and bellowing.
passion fuels the blazing hot metal,
but his presence throw cold water on its
clanging beats.
it ticks with each loss of degree.
i feel the bull steam and cool
and it hurts, but in the most comforting way.

university

i feel so opportunistic
yet covered in led
heavy eyelashes weighing down lids

i own an xy chromosome shield
but i'm too weak to put it up.
the FDA put a warning label on my nape
it reads:
caution: rock slide
standing near can result in crushing, serious injury or death.
but my hair makes it hard to see.

i gave out valentines and they all said
fuck off:
if you smile when you think of me you're already dead.

it's hard existing when everything is so worthwhile and satisfying
but completely earth shattering and heartbreaking in the same moment.

a woman lives inside my heart
she lives caged in, but claws at the bars.
sometimes she escapes and wreaks havoc on my insides
i named her "Evil".
she frightens me into submission
and tells me awful things.
she's constantly in heat and easily reproduces
but i have Evil antibodies.
they are often sad and absent,
lethargic and sick,
but after systematic outbreaks, they put her in her place.

only, she's always there,
can only be stopped for a moment.
her madness eats away at her skin
and everyday is a mad struggle to escape her painful confines.
i can hear her enraged screams from time to time
her only target is me.
she is me.
i scream hate at myself from an outer bodied, yet inner bodied place:
i have split in two.
i sink inside myself like hot quicksand
i become her and feel the rage, it feels like arousal
but i feel my outer, physical body cower in pain.

i hear her voice, i hear her voice, i hear her voice.

head exploding
the world is crashing down on me

mange de la caféine un fois
mange de la caféine deux fois
mange de la caféine trois fois

am i awake yet?

dear cute boy who works the information desk,
would you permit me to get to know you?

dear cute boy who i left behind,
i'm so glad to hear from you.

retourner

the library is a fortress;
impenetrable castle.
one grand entrance
but no other way in.
it stands tall and looming
but it can't protect me.

out of all people
my skin's cooked to a crisp.
crunchy like an exoskeleton,
betraying the contents of the package.
but i'm aware everyone knows this.
they cradle my hypocrisy so divinely
so sweetly and without blame
that i would deteriorate
like frail paper in a flurry of winds without them.

the insatiable need for companionship.
survivalist instincts spit acid on solitude.
undeniable, fear-based
but an indecisive teeter-totter:
fulcrum balanced, bar misshapen;
constantly changing.

one day it's:
bodies on top of bodies,
brain stem desires,
the shivers that don't disappear.
the next day:
putrid disgust gasps at underlying shame,
reality takes a shit in the middle of desire's forehead,
desire retaliates, shoots flares into the burning horizon
sparks fly into the star-strewn sky

and the process repeats.

similarly,
eternal love and other illusions
fight head on with the used and broken iron cage
that festers inside of my chest cavity;
it's atrophying.
it's desire vs. reality
but in a more conceptual, cognitive, other-worldly phenomenon.

it's still opposites fighting for dominance.
one dominant and one submissive.
they switch constantly and whisper in the ears of my future lovers
lips full and soft with saliva
they part and pucker and waver and stretch
they quiver,
and caress the auricle with warm breath
they say:

"read between the lines"

hey,

I FUCKING HATE YOUR PATHETIC EXISTENCE.

me.

s t u c k

it was just an extended hook up

it's easy

step one: become a real person

step two: hold me in your arms and tell me it will be alright.

step three: kiss me 'til the sun breaks the horizon

step four: never walk into my field of vision again

step five: obliterate yourself from my memories.

I'm still fucking hurt, i just thought you all should know.