.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
.you were a passingstorm, a tornado scribblingyour name in the sand
.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
.you pulledall the strings;now i connect morewith the puppet thani do the puppeteer
.the breathin my lungs -you tookeverything
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
.you brokea heart,convincedthat there wassomething goodinside
.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
.i don't believethat if you can dream ityou can do it,cos i once dreamt thati killed atlas,i tore him limb from limb and theni stabbed the globe he held,watched itdeflate,and sometimes i get sadabout the children in the worldwho will choke on all the wordsthat they'll never learn to speak,and there's a baby somewhere garglingthe meaning of his life,and he's a little bit upset that youkeep wiping itaway(i have no words for you)
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.
VeinsI wishmy veinsof ocean blueflowed not justto my heart,but toyours too.
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
LungsMaybe ifour lungsexhaled moneyinstead ofcarbon dioxide,we'd valuelifea little more(or maybe we'd just go broke).
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck