#(.words

fingers hooked into cheeks | jokered | pinned | peered-down throat | in search of hot wires to diffuse this heart | breath held for betrayal | every beat

calcium | beading into stalactites along the curve of the sinus cavity | blocking airflow waiting to drop into

teeth half-straight | braces plied prematurely making room for | sharp-tipped | the inevitability of torn lips | bloodthirst | a new life spent in shadow as the only safety

from the sun | needling a brand into waning skin | blood- ink like an obituary | a promise | a living will

contracted in dna | fulfilled in fingerprints | parents growing up in broad daylight where all the kids could see | parents burning up before bedtime into ash

raised instead by streetlights | to stand very still scrape sidewalks for pennies | pressed to tongues coins | copper | empty pockets and empty bellies rotting | toxic | silver | stakes too high to survive til dusk.

ON FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, BLURRED LINES, AND A LACK OF CLOSURE

Dealing with Art is a lot like training a reactive chihauhau. Their teeth aren’t enough to do damage to anyone but themselves, but they sure are a nuisance sometimes. Patrick helps Art be better, because it’s the least he can do. It’s like molding recycled clay, because it used to be something but then it kept breaking itself and now someone else needs to fix it. Patrick tries to push Art to say less dumb shit, to do less dumb things, because Art needs him. Art needs Patrick, and Patrick is kind enough to stick around. It’s like having an old car that needs fixing, or a pet that needs training. It’s a project. That’s why Patrick lets Art watch him flirt with girls, why he lets Art third-wheel, because he needs to show Art how good he is, so Art can follow his lead.