.in the nighttime you arebetter; moonlightembroiders yourskin and stitchesyou up with apurer love, untilthe morning comes,the sun runs histeeth through yourseams again, splitsyou open
.sooner or later,the tooth fairy picks up ahammer and chisel
.she carries more mistakes thanthere are stars, behind hereyesa lifetime ofconstellations,a human supernova
.he splits hearts likeoranges in themorningsinks his teeth intoripened flesh, andleaves nothing but therind, too hard toswallow
.she calls down angelsjust to burn theirrighteous wings,to see them rise thenfall, those flailingdovesshe tells them, thisis what it's liketo be humanand they say judgementwill arrive for you, mygirl, you will becleansed by burninglightand i strike another match
.fistsclench; i brush myheart frommy sleeve, thenditch thesweater
.i keep a garden ofdead leaves, their amberribs crack under myfeet, and i smilethe flowers turn theirbacks on me
.i was born with thecord wrapped tightaround my neck; itwould seem fitting todie the same way
.he told me prayersare uselessand if i really want hisforgiveness, i should get onmy knees and beg
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
.a spider weaveshis silver lies on myfront door, and iwalk right in;the flies laugh
.horrors prey ondreams, and sleep cando nothing about ita lamb straysfrom the flock;a wolf grins
.crescent moon- silverhook in the sky fishing forstars; you catch my eye
.the sea spitsme back ontothe shore -the waves saythis is not theright tide, theright time
.i keepbutterfliesin mystomach;pierce holesthrough sowe canbreathe
.hangman, could you showme the ropes? i'd rather doit all on my own
.we are one and thesame, that old willow andme, we stand tall with thescars that life gave us -with the names of loverscarved deep in our limbs,and old burns from mydads cigarettes
.a scalpel fromwrist to elbow-you will not beliving under myskin anymore
and we'll rotoh, poet boy,you are notthumbed bruisesor honey bones& you have onlyever been a godinside of your own head
i haven't forgottentell me, boywho is your god.do not say itis the limbsthat spread youbetween knowingand comfort;do not tell me it ishands wrapping a headboard, nor a mouthtugging your namefor salvation.i want to know who it isthat makes you lucent,bent beneath the dark,weeping,because there is no divinitylike the one that makesyou bleed
every night my hair is falling outI have heard that in 7 yearsevery cell in your bodyis new& isn't it beautiful that it will bea body you have never touchedbut I know that when your brain cellsdiefall like ashes through your skullthey stay dead& I can never scrap the memories out of their corpses
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,the longest night of the year.you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.i knew you were not meant to last,powerful as a gale but fragile asthe tulip stems you snapped,a sickening cycle of you,an overwhelming tidal wave.they say two wrongs will never make a right,but i made so many bad choices thati wound up back where I began.it was too easy to love you,but getting you to love me back was impossible.i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,until my nails split into shards.you were born a phantom,and i, your corpse.holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;i fought but always sank into your arms.i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, andfound my organs choked with you,smothered by your existence.you sucked out my breathevery time i kissed you.i died every day with your handknotted in my hair.You left on june 21st,the longest day of the year.i bit down sorrow and deconstructedthe labyrinth within me,the one you hadn't th
despotismshe is a bird sitting, teetering ona power line becauseone way or another, she figuresthe best way to enda storyis a big bang.He is a fish swimming, traversing along,Against the crashing tide becauseHe figures he can defy the law one or way or another,And the best way to beginIs to finish the endBefore he's stuck in her talons.though she is made of feathersand bones and she is still weightless enoughto take to the currents of air,she is powerlessagainst the waves his actionsmake, and she is so easily swept away thatshe thinks her body might as wellbe made of stones.He could tell she was astounded by his ocean,By the place he calls home to.He welcomed her to the lowest depths of it, She couldn't resist the deepest blue of the marine,Nor the glitter of his fishscale,And the place he called heaven,Eventually became this bird's hell.her eyes were always thesize of jupiter when he was aroundbecause she was fascinated withthe way he moved so gracefully from
roadkillYou told meI was November’s ambrosiasweet on your tongue.But now all I feelis discord, siegingand overthrowingthe 3,000 year old treeinside of me.-Centuries to grow so talland strong-9 mere minutes tofall.You no longer smile anymore.And I am here,silent as stone-the carcass of a dead...wild thinghoping you don't leave meon the side of the road.
Once Upon a Carcass,I loved her like the flaws in barbed wire;it stung. & I needed to take her castle ribs-but I was jealous of heaven.She spoke through her bones.She: a beautiful decaydraped along my apartment,& the mess of my mouth.When she left,I cried big ugly tearsfor the First Aid of herheartbeatsI needed Draco.I needed her.“Is it sweet?” She meows even stillwith all my self-doubt.This thing, I must not feed it-As I still long to leave galaxiesalong the length of her entire bed.
in which I become beautifulI drown my conscience inthe holy water of my wrists,I carve hearts from emptypaper for my galaxyboywith stars written in his skin,and I swallow moths tomuffle the emptiness andhelp me fly away.
Systematickids like him are made ofturbulence & fragmentationhe is quicksilver & vitriccanteen skull thatbrims with boric acidhe scribes apothegms inaniline colors& the words are 50/50sclerotin to discontentment.
.the cat keepsleaving dead meaton my doormat,a pile of bones,bloody and rawhe wants me toknow what i'mwalking into, hewants me to knowjust what i am