.i hearthe sun hisswhen it catchessight of the moon,i see you too, so pleasedo not come any closer -i crack wordswide open to see justwhat they're reallymade of, and i longto do the sameto you, i thinka crowbar is the only thingthat would give youa more open mind, iswing then prise -you laughand saya moth in searchof the lightis boundto get burned(what are you in for?)
.sooner or laterwe'll fall throughthe trapdoor of death
.she saysdarling,you weren't madefor anything else(cutting this cord day by day)
.the world's a stagebut he saysplease,don't make a scene(it's growing boring)
.i wantto know about god,which namehe would prefer to go byi want to knowabout the stairwayup to heaven,and why sliding downthe bannister into hellis much more fun(think i tried to climb a step that wasn't there, think i might have died more than once)
.i keep wearingmy skinlike an old wornjacket and jeans,stitchedover andover again
.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
.dig lifejust to get buried
.got eyes sohungry they'reswallowing youwhole,gonna spitout your heartlike a pip
.you break freefrom the grip ofthe oceanjust to die inthe arms of the shorefrom exhaustion
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck
.you still gota heart that beats in halves?a mouth like a bear trap,don't kiss me -that anchor tattooon your foot, it still holding youdown to the earth?that skull on your chest,you still dead in there?i told you i wouldn'tdisappear again,but i kept my eyes fixedon the exit,and if i'm being honesti lied,i spoke in the tongue of my own,i was out of that door like a shotwhat a buzz -a hive full of angry words,queen of the nestfull of hate but the honey issweet when you smoke themall out of the way,get them drunk get themtalking andleaving my mouthin swarms(hope it stings)
.death has a wayof assuring youthat he is youronly friend;he's the onlyone that willstay with youwhenever youreach the end
.the rabbits twitchin their sleep;they dreamof red bitten neckswet with spit,the birds dream of their eggscrackedand runny -the mice dream of hearingthat tabby cat screamas the teeth of life ripitwide open
.i feel in a languagei don't understand,and the wings of the bird in my kitchen, theywon't get to feel the sky anymore -and sometimes doesn't it feel good?to put two fingers round the neckof a flower andsnap,hear the petals scream fortheir withering limbs,then start choking(instinct)
.you pulledall the strings;now i connect morewith the puppet thani do the puppeteer
.i wakequiet andblindblindblind,the darknessglowingoutside andin(he said dead was the best way that thing could ever have been anyway)
.the seaboiled itselfclean andholy again,bones washedup on theshore,smooth asdriftwoodi lay inthe ribsof a whalea while,carve myname in thewhitewith sharpflint(in the corners of sand, dug my feet in)
I can't write poetry for dead girls.there are toomany pills in thisworld and toomuch misery inthe human heartbut that didn't meanthat you could justup and leave whenwe both know itcould have gotten betterand i miss you likea wolf misses her packor a goddamn dragon missesher fire and i'm sorrythat i can't give youa bouquet of jasmines(they were yourfavorite, after all,because that wasthe only princesswith a pet tiger)because poppies aretoo cliche and i'msorry i wasn't therewhen all you neededwas a hug and for someoneto whisper "it's okay,you're perfect enoughfor me, don't listento that junkie bitchwho just happened togive birth to you" and didyou know that i'm still waitingfor a reply to that oneemail about the world'sbest puns because fuck,there's a stubborn partof me that still refuses tobelieve that you're gone.
Behind the WordsWe spill our pain across the pages.But we must smile when it is read.For we cannot show our true emotions.Not of suffering, anxiety, or dread.For we are the bringers of dreams to the world.Our words are tales of healing light.So hide your tears behind a mask,And save them for a quiet night.
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.
StoryI know you have a story hiddenIn your chest but you’reAfraid to wear it on your sleevesFor everyone to see. No needTo worry – I’ve seen scarred arms,I’ve known people who let theirDemons take over their hearts.Your story is just as valid asMine; even if it’s just a fairytale.
VeinsI wishmy veinsof ocean blueflowed not justto my heart,but toyours too.
IntrovertEveryone's tryingto get out ofthe shadowof their parents-I'm here tryingto get out ofthe shadowof myself.
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
My FirstYour loving smile,On luscious lips,Once red,Now coloured,In shades of blue.My only mistake,When I stole your breath,Was falling in love with you...
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
.can you hearmy mouth -my cerberusguardingthe hellinside me