violence

stuck

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I clean him, wash his hair from the vomit of killing,
he starts to kill .
So I find myself in the ultimate taboo,
holding it now,
grateful to those who will die after

I move away from the victim here,
no matter .
He can’t grasp the lost grip on his face,
no accident, pure violence,
I can’t bring myself to

I lost my keyboard, writing it out with fluid onto the floor,
equilibrium .
I find myself lost in the grip of possibility
of a different world,
a trigger about

I delicately exchange narrative for the inevitable,
let go .
I can’t grasp the lost grip on love,
manipulation,
only opportunities to get caught on

Back in self-protection mode,
he stumbles  .
He finds himself in the ultimate taboo,
the silent death in my eyes,
no empathy such as longing for

box

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

Open your dissertation,
(which is certainly uncertainty about killing,
which is probably one reason the narrative arch … )
Stretches from my hands
Lie still enough
Face harder
Push into the stakes
Streaming down my torso
Honor the room

My mind is my only open airway,
(which is certainly uncertain about being seen,
which is probably one reason the narrative arch … )
Leaks out of my mouth
Gagging long enough
Breathe harder
Push into the pain
Streaming down my legs
Honor the sky

lost

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

who is..
where is…

what happened to your sex?
is it in the bathroom, the bathtub?
did you drop it into the toilet?
did it get sucked down the drain?

or is it still sleeping entangled in the bedsheets
while you left for work in the morning?
with socks lost to the laundry,
on the kitchen counter,
or in a bag in a drawer for safekeeping?

Did you ask someone to hold it for you,
and then they ran off?

Was it removed by a doctor,
as an anomaly?

When its taken from you
its hard to remember

Maybe mine is in the car with bad breaks
in the ruins of a New England mill
lying in the tall grass next to the river

Or gathering dust in the teacher’s closet
behind the dugout
caught in drag in a bridesmaid dress

You search frantic
sweating
pounding
wanting

for what you misplaced
fearing it is gone

And then you realize
he took it from you
he lost it when
he misplaced his own

bomb

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

i see the fear in your eyes
you know i could go off
at any fucking minute

my head is filled with the knowledge
of what you cannot admit to yourself

my body is filled with the damage
of what you cannot bear within yourself

hide away
lock the door
look through me
pretend I’m not here

you can’t just place your pain in me
then send me off
and wish me well

i used to believe you
i was unlovable
a wreck
a damage
everything vile

i saw myself in your eyes
i was danger
a bomb
a shame
everything evil

fuck you
i will speak
but never against you
and never against my own heart

necessary

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I didn’t know anyone could hear me
write a riddle
design a game
study, advance, retreat

I didn’t know I could speak
learn a language
you speak me

I’m digging it up
crack weeds at the root
be taboo, say it provocative

I’m tending to my wounds
open yours
break me apart at the seams

My guts are spilling out around you
its ok
i’m fine

give me violence, give me sex
Let me feel you

I’m silent and you’re listening
your tender fingers trace the surface of my walls
your cheek is pressing against my glass heart

I’m digging to loosen all the ground
my spade could split you in two
my sex would penetrate your heart

tend to me, hold me
please
Please

erase it

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

before someone sees

she’s erasing me
like a mistake
an ugly thing that shouldn’t have

no sooner do i disappear
and then she constructs a shrine
a memorial to my untimely death

remove every trace of hir
broom and dust pan
burn the poems for my pedophile
trash my phalic paintings

will you want to keep these love letters?
no.
you might wish you had
no.

sweep me up into the attic
away into the closet
where i hid from him
with my stuffed animals

stuffed animals into trash bags
they have bugs,
dirty

keep it under the bed
before it gets put into yard sales
and give aways

i cannot be erased
when i was never there to
begin with

you could find me in my writing
my drawings
hiding inside my father’s tattered clothes

craft a memory of what i could never be
you will sleep there sometimes
i never could

remember it

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

Children can love it shrieking,
recklessly racing up the dunes without the fear of falling
I fear children
they remind me of how her life was stolen, of her unheard cries of terror
Children make me sad
they remind me of how he never got to grow up doing the things boys do

Ignore the children
and the father’s laughter will spike a chill up the neck
a punch to the gut
the smiling family portrait will turn demonic
uncanny eyes

The sand is a pit and I’m sinking
He can soothe the anxiety of his control by making your sex
(it’s the way it’s always been)
Forget it
But I miss it

make a scene

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

Threads of the past tied a knot in my side
 afraid to weave them,
 cannot allow them them unfurl

I keep my nightmares in my pocket,
you know, the kind that go on without end
you’re never sure you are getting anywhere
you move too slowly, like you’ve been drugged
    you’re either in trouble,
     late,
    or just plain vulnerable

Mine is a crime scene
 floral wallpaper
 the smell of him in the laundry
 residue of piss blamed on former residents
 lint and hair in the bathtub drain

     I don’t want to touch it
     I want to know
     I don’t want to know
     I want to touch it

Don’t disturb the debris
 hang up the wet towel on the shower rod
 keep the fuzzy toilet seat cover neatly in place
 but you left your underwear on the floor
     sloppy

I smell 409 and antibacterial soap
 you clean that shit up
Don’t let anyone see the dirt
My body is dirty
 you clean that shit up

Hide your eyes
Hide the inside of your head

Coming here now I thought to have it out with you
 but it’s empty, just as you left me

I won’t touch it
I will go about my own business
Take a shower, run a bath
Take a shit, wash my hands
Lather, rinse, repeat

inside

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I had to focus just to say
are you there?
I read dreams and visions to find my reality
become more poetically erotic
shed our skin to find clarity

I was sweating nervously in his subjectivity
What if it was something about what he did?

Safely twisted I reside inside a fantasy
but when I enter him I meet his virility
he is afraid to be seen, drunk, without will
I rape myself with my own subjectivity

Just take some notes make observations
construct a man
Let him out for a few days where he can be playful
clever

I’m in the men’s room gagging on his hard edges and my lived experience
write my own anger in his energy

I do
it is the difference between us

will

~ jacobalden ~ Leave a comment

I want to be in the autoerotic
I will not touch you in order to set off some cascade of fireworks and minefields
I will touch you slowly, gently, with love
I want to know my own skin
I will not isolate myself into fantasies
I will find pleasures I haven’t been able to access
Never again will I endure your touch
Never again will I hope that you can know what I need
Never again will I cross your lines and leave you for dead
And one day we will touch
I will know your skin with a tenderness reserved for my own
I will listen to what brings your pleasure
I will ask for what I need
Our lines will meet with trust and honesty
And the friction between us will give off sparks of life not death
We will no longer grope around half awake in the darkness
We will live and laugh in the light