.i wanted to bathein fire; for the amber tonguesto lick me clean, pure
.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
.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
.you should haveemerged with life; yourlittle roots should haveclutched the soil in theirtiny white fists, andgrowni did not mean to trampleyou, i did not mean tolet my body killyour body
.he splits hearts likeoranges in themorningsinks his teeth intoripened flesh, andleaves nothing but therind, too hard toswallow
.i opened mymouth;you showedme yourteeth
.he told me prayersare uselessand if i really want hisforgiveness, i should get onmy knees and beg
.when you claim your slotin the ground, it will claim yourbody in return
.my head isthe apple and youare the worm;watch mesquirm
.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
.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
.she became a seabed noanchor could grip, with ahabit of turning everythinginto a shipwreck
.dead flies scatterthe windowsill, theirbodies shrivelled anddried by the suni mourn the spider,hung with his own web
.little robin, wingsoutstretched in the dirt, a smearof red on your breast
.i was born with thecord wrapped tightaround my neck; itwould seem fitting todie the same way
.tiny heart drummingin your chest, i canhear youred gravy pumpingin your veins, i cansmell youyou are such a freshmeal, and i can almosttaste you
Can We Just PretendHey...Can we just pretend ?Like we did when we were kids?I can pretend to be strongAnd use these twigsTo build a mansion for youSo large and beautifulThat you'll have everything you need.I can pretend to be smartAnd I'll teach you new things every dayGently widening you eyesTo the world around you.I can pretend to be a musicianYour own private concertoSing lullabies to you each nightWith the few notes I know.I can pretend to be funnyAnd have a witty criticismFor all the things you dislikeAnd sweetly teasing youTill you gift me with your smile.I can pretend be wiseHave an answer for all your problemAnd advice that never fails.I can pretend to be a cookAnd delicately createMudpies for you to eatAs though they were gourmet meals.I can pretend to be someone I'm notSomeone who's beautiful or amazing or kindSomeone who won't let you downSomeone who won't break your heartSomeone who can give you everythingYou could ever want
a.m./p.m.i put my handsin the stars-feathery hair, coldskin and cyanosis fed, i realize that i amnothing. born in neither winteror spring, crying aboutcherry tree spines andthrowing stones, iwas left for thewolves. it is the dawn ofFebruary, and i am so close toseventeen that i cantaste it; i am very nearly choking on age. the sky beckons me most at 11:49 pm, becauseit's hovering between tomorrow and yesterday--that destroys me. i want to burn it to theground, breathethe ashes in like cigarettes ondirty curbs. i am stuck here in a windowless town witha thousand memories stuck between my canines;into the wind, i drop words like deadweights. take me home.
sati(ate)dit's ironic,isn't it? the waythey say "hunger gnaws"like the way our teethscrape against bones.for all thecalories that are counted,you still feelempty. you aren'tbeautiful untilyou are digestingnothing but airand maybe your own guilt.that's just the wayliving is thesedays: swallowingglass shards toslice up your insides soyou can ignorethe other kind of pain yourstomach is feeling.but when people askif you're doing okay you justsmile and nod even thoughyou can't help butthink "if honesty wastangible, i'd eat it rightnow."life hasan acquired taste andsome days you'dlike to rip yourtongue out.
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.
Two Years LaterShe asked him gently, “Do you love me?”In his long silence, she found closure,And left her love under a willow tree.
Astrali'm the seraphicromanticist,a hallowed bodyswallowing galaxieslike i am hellbent onself-deterioration
and we'll rotoh, poet boy,you are notthumbed bruisesor honey bones& you have onlyever been a godinside of your own head
The end of a worldAs I look out the window and see the clouds of smokePeople are leaving their house,With their face drained of hopeClose by I see people crying,In the distance I hear people screamingThe worst is happening,Only this time we’re not dreamingThe faithful are gathering,Holding hands and prayingThe tainted are bargaining,Taking anything that can be takenThe weak are jumping off buildings,Leaving blood on the pavementLarge scale of suicidesWhether by knife, gun, or hangingIt’s anarchy out thereAnd it has only begunI’m damned to the flamesBecause my sins can’t be undone
To be a writerYou taste like decaying leavesand October's bad habits-when it’s halfway through Februarythat still haunts these bones.I have allowed you toclaw your loveinto my armsand chant into myuninterested earsfor much too long.I wish I was one of those girlswho could say wild flowersgrow up through my nooksand my crannies just to tearthrough my skin, screaming.I’m just that dead eyed deeron the side of the road dreamingof shoving a pen down my throatand writing these verses inside out.I am no scribe, prophet, or spell caster.I know it.My skin knows it.My pen knows it too.Years and yearsfrom nowmy mind will dwellon the way your fingerschain linked between my ribsand shook myvulnerable inside,violently.But,to be a writeris to be a masochist,and I refuse to get offon the pain anymore.
.winter gavebirth to a baby,cold and still