.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
.you're afraidto let anyonestoke the firein your chestfor fearyou will burnthem alive
.i shudderwhen you speak;your words arecold when theytouch me
.if thesewalls couldtalkthen i'm surethey'd bescreamingget out,burn usdown,we can'tbearto hold youanylonger(been too busy dreaming to get any sleep)
.i dug up thepast again, thosememories viciousand snarlingi set them looseinside the houseand now we haveto leave
.and like a stone atthe bottom of the riveror the sea,i think life might just beflowing right past me
.lies can slipthrough your teethwith ease,the truthgets caught inyour throat(i wish it was a lie, that i'm your flesh and blood and i wish it was the truth, that i hadn't been drinking)
.some people are deadlong before they die -there's just no burialor cremation,no funeralfor the spirit
.spillyour emotion,or drownin it
.your heartalone shouldremind younot to beatyourself upyour pulseshould remindyoukeep steady
.you were a passingstorm, a tornado scribblingyour name in the sand
.you pulledall the strings;now i connect morewith the puppet thani do the puppeteer
.the breathin my lungs -you tookeverything
.everything i hold deari hold too tightly;i am so sorry you weremarked when i had tolet you go
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
.you were life's newwork of art;small easel bonesand a blankcanvas of skinbut he ruined you over time,added the brushof a scaror two
.he stood on the shore,and told the sea he loved her;the jealous wind tore hisvoice in two
.love grewand died repeatedly;she tore it out atthe root
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
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.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed, a field of wild flowered- imperfections, sticky metaphors & an inability to speak. Love them anyway. Know that when they look at you they are noticing the little things.
War.If someone tells you, "War is hell." They lie.There are no innocents in hell.
.What do you want to be when you grow up?They ask it like a dare.As if letting your unlikely dreamsslip from the safety of your mindcould bring their owna little closer to reality.
( 4/02/2014 )It’s day two& I already feelshriveled, lungless,overworked.I’ve been livingout of my suitcasesince I got home,sleepingon the couch &leaving my laundryon the floor.Everything in my refrigeratorscreams 12 days too late& rent money is due.She’s slapping mein the face,you see.Depression,that heartless bitchwith the longspider legs& hot mouth-she enjoysthrowing meinto furniture-up againstthin walls& having her way with me.
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
VeinsI wishmy veinsof ocean blueflowed not justto my heart,but toyours too.
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.
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck