.i dug up thepast again, thosememories viciousand snarlingi set them looseinside the houseand now we haveto leave
.i wanted to bathein fire; for the amber tonguesto lick me clean, pure
.love grewand died repeatedly;she tore it out atthe root
.you are a walkingcoffin; there are sentencesburied alive inside you, all thethings you could not sayand they will fester therelike maggots, eat you fromthe inside out
.is it worse tohear a truth,or give oneto tell a lie,or live one
.i shudderwhen you speak;your words arecold when theytouch me
.a storm breaks insidehis mouth; my name washes upon his tongue, stranded
.my thoughts want toflee, but there is no fireescape, no guide to theexit of my head, and theyconsider digging a holethere, i feel it, maybe acrack just wide enoughto crawl through, drop arope through the backof my neck and climbdown, prise open theearth - a tremble turnsinto an avalanche, anda snowflake in the flurrywonders am i the same asall the rest? he coughs andsplutters and chokes onit - i wake in the earlymorning, heart lodgedin my throat, that redbird in that chimney, he'sgoing to starve there andi'll be spitting feathers;i won't claw the insideof my neck again fornobody, i'm past that,pick me up by thescruff and drop mewherever you're going -but wait, when lightningstrikes a tree, well isn'tthat love? and when therain pelts the ground,well what about then?when you miss the acheof wounds as they'rehealing, is that it? wellwhen your nose bleeds,that's still love right?cos i've got an entirepack to get through -and what a funnything it is
.you brokea heart,convincedthat there wassomething goodinside
.you're afraidto let anyonestoke the firein your chestfor fearyou will burnthem alive
.the breathin my lungs -you tookeverything
.some thoughts get so loud thatyou cry out for them to leave;they scatter like birds startledout of their trees, before landingagain where they wereand after a while,you just have tolet them sing
.the shadows bruise thesunlight while the moonweeps in the darkness
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck
.in yourhead liesa well troddenpath;i want thewilderness
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
.everything i hold deari hold too tightly;i am so sorry you weremarked when i had tolet you go
.your heartalone shouldremind younot to beatyourself upyour pulseshould remindyoukeep steady
Keep your secrets, wolfgirl.I have been suffocatingon the stars of my pastlike horny gentlemendo with innocent lookingwolfgirls at 3am- their bitefearless as thieves.My lilac lungs are breathing indust and the tears of Saturn’snameless moons,while the rest of me -well, shes warm off wineand poems leftunfinished.
You asked for dark poetry.i will neverbe niceto my enemies.i will devour them all.slowly.methodically.with a fork.
painyou're disgusting.i hope you know that every time you show your face,i cringe, collapse into rage.you flay my body with cutting board scissorsand laugh at the sight of my blood.it's everywhere, staining everything.my clothes are ruined,splotched with your dirty curse.i can't ignore youwhen you're so persistent,grinding me like coffee beansto grit beneath your boots.i'm a shipwreck. you're the bottom of the ocean,suffocating everything.i collapse into bathroom stallslike a rag doll,falling on my knees and begging for mercy.you're the reason i have medication.i swallow pill after pill,but they don't let me forget you.i feel you within me,twisting, pulling at my guts.there's some idea out therethat women are like snow-capped strawberries,but you are the part of methat releases the bitter, razor-edged leaves.you cut.my mom tells me i'm being melodramatic.it's just a period, after all.
hyenas make the best lovers.i need to stop lookingfor death in every bodymy fingers touch.i have been force fedold lovers, & slicesof the moons lying dustfor years-i am messy poems;i am fractured confessions.i am laughter& teeth.my jaws achewith the taste ofwolves blood,& names.i am still hungry.give me your sugar;I will share my breath.remember,you are still made of starstuff,& i am no longer caged.
I'm the type...to try and smile when they're gunning me down andI won't tell you until I'm full of empty shells thatthe world wasn't built on land but onsuffering anda lack of better term for human desire for satisfaction that does not exist.To be optimistic when one's soul is a realist butit doesn't matter how many petals you count becausethe last draw will always end with a dead end thattakes you to a new beginning where at first you feel.. this is it. And I'm going to make this myhome.. If not for the eyes that prey on your identity while perched ontrees that take root on ground made of greed andsuffering.Is happiness a paradoxical conspiracy that finds salvation in the dreaming minds of those awake. Or perhaps justsomething I have only caressed but never tasted toremember.Is suffering that which is beyond the first dream that we all awaken to after sleeping that first sleep when we break free of Innocence.Or are my words not but images that you have unconsciously
lung canceri will die with your name on my lipsbecause there is nothing else i'll need to say.you are my coffin, my funeral pyre.as my bones disintegrate, popping and snapping,you will greedily swallow my ashesuntil nothing is left of me but secondhand smoke.i've danced with you, love, across hospital tile,the scent of antiseptic cloying as valentine's chocolate.you dipped me into unconsciousness,and i willingly closed my eyes.the intrusion of your scalpel teeth no longer scares me.you, my rigor mortis soul mate, always take me under.your tent of frostbitten shelter pulls me down, an anchor,while i gag on pills too abstract to save me.forgive me, lungs, of my cigarette abuse,but i've found happiness in a reaper's cloak.i find comfort in these carcinogens.i've made my nest in a swaying tree,my body destroyed by the nauseous rocking.they smile at me with pity in their eyes,scribbling nonsense on those jaw-like clipboards.their crisp, stark white world still has faith in me,yet
hometown bluesthey say home is where the heart is,but they never claimed it had to be beating.if this town is all there is to living,then I'm dead,and these dusty dirt roadsare my sad little gravestones.there's a harsh winter wind.I'm breathing,but it's the same air I've inhaledsince I first opened mysurgical steel eye to the world.remember the pale pink dressI wore to our senior prom?you held meunder the fuzzy yellow confetti light.I loved you because you were so gentle,and when I fell apart,you were the only person who knewI could fix myself on my own.you twirled me like I mattered,because you knew that one day I would die.you forgot that you would, too.you are wrought iron starlight,my crooked grey dove.you live in the sidewalk cracks,moaning my name as Icautiously step over the gorges.my mother calls, from time to time.I've learned to let the phone ringbecause her voice is not the one I want to hear.she's too tepid, unsure.she's the link strangling me,pinning me t
you stoleyou are smoke,blackened feathers,and I forgethow the mockingbirdused to sing.please,I forgethow to miss someone.you left warm spots in me,familiar dents and puckersnow empty.nothing holds my eyes in place.they roll from one end of my skullto the other,rattling.I don't want to seea world without you in it.you let this place hollow outand dry like infinite droughts.youlet meburn.the years age me,and I don't know who I amanymore.I only remember you,but I forget that you are gone.
NothingI heard someone sarcastically sputter,"You are what you eat."But hearing that sole sentenceallowed me to finally understandwhy I amwhat I am:Nothing.
.pour love allover, then strikea match;the fire willburn itself out,but the ruinswill smoulder
Crush the carbon in your fists
And let the ash make way to diamonds.