caged tiger

i woke up with the weather sticking to my skin.

last night still powders my hair and

echoes in my tapping fingernails,

ruinous debris of limb-smashing, hot-breathed, god-yes,

dancehall embattlement.

i wanted you. but that's not good enough.

there was a chase like tigers

a clawing, a sabre-toothed trade-off of

exotic animal perfumes and pheromonal purrs.

i breathed in what you breathed out

and my teeth disintegrated

into powders that wafted right up into your nose

taking you to heaven, taking us to the Congo

i mean it must have

how else can i explain the pounding and the

hot scents that burned me and evoked the jaguar howling

when my bones pushed through my skin

in a vain effort to get closer to you,

to be gnawed on.

you wanted me too. but that wasn't good enough.

i slept in my own tent and let myself be coated in indian summer.

caverns

and it was into the cave

salt crashes and ex-train tracks and stuck in the mud

and light, the cliche light

at the cliche end

and i wasn't afraid to not hold hands

to break against the ledge

alone, in the debris that roared roared roared

i thought,

this is how i'd kill myself, if i thought i deserved a death that good

there was hemming and hawing about

tide traps and skulls mixed with foam, smashing against like jelly-filled shells

shivers and

fear of footing

and i thought, that's how i'd like to kill myself

but i kept mute because

landmarks are supposed to light you up

tighten your grip on what is and isn't natural

pat our backs for keeping one littered run-down piece of geology from turning into

burger kings

beach houses

big, beautiful frothing landfills

but

that doesn't keep me healthy.

i want my body to nourish the scrambling soil, my bones to be

a cragged beach spine

because the only time i feel as alive

is when my muscles snap from poor decisions like

him

poor decisions i want to make.

i would toss myself into the whirlpool

when and if i deserved to die.