.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
.he pointsto a crucifixon the left sideof his necktells me he can end allof your suffering -and i look at himand i cross my arms, thinkinghe can't even do this
.he always wants the light onwhen he's sleeping, says he's scaredbut i can't see the point;i say not all monstersare trying to hurt you, at leastnot right awayand his bottom lip goesand he screams shut upbut i laugh and i tickle his ribsand then he laughs with meand he sayslove youand i say i love you toolittle man(i love you too)
.i will swallowthat white pearlon my tonguebut i'll open upfor no one
.in the bodyof a dead womani am aliveand kicking
.love like thunder;make yourself known
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.in the beginningin the bonewhite tendrilsof holy fire, the nightate away at it all,that acid tide -it ate away atthe bud in the mudand the blood,it burned their bodiesbut left their ghostsso they could beidentified -and then a wildman, a monsterpressed his thumb intothe air, he drewa cross upon his facesaid lightand nowi am drowningi am drowning in lighti am drowningin the whiteand the goldas he sitsat the end of my bedand he shouts -for somethingor someonei don't knowand i scream, god, please justlet me sleep!let me sleepin the cold barren groundof the earth,let it pull me right inthrough its mangle -and i feel a stingin the crook of my armwhen they come(and then even the wolves, even the wolves start to whimper)
.and they knew,they knew i'd gone -when they found me outside crouchedwith a string box and stick, singingi'm going to catch me my death,make him sick -now i sit in a gown that is whiterthan white, doesn't suit me,this ghost to myself -on the corridor bench with my kneestucked in under my chin, rattlingwith green yellow blue(i've told you, i know where i'm going)
.the moon shudders;silver dust landsin my hair and i sigh,knock it off -what's your problem?i'm frustrated -i've been trying tostrike a match that won'tlight for two hours,she saysyou carry a lighter,remember?
.and you;i understand if you have towith the sun painted gold on yourtiger back bone, i won't moveeverything else is in it's place,everything -if you open your eyes up wide,put your ear tothe lungs that breathe insidebut not in mine, no not in my holy waters,my still still waters, but stillthe sea will surge overthe sand, and i will take whateveryou can give me and sleep, i will sayi want the hand of god betweenmy ribs, i want a mechanical life,i want no part in the winding evilcurling itself inside me, pleasei want no part in settling down, i wantto see stars the colour of champagne, openwrists like blind slats so i can seethe light, keep fresh insidewith cling film stretched across,go on then do it, listen, i will let you,i will take your lover's song, the blamebe storyteller to them all, sit intheir kitchens, pet their dogsconceal the fact and smileas life drags me down the aisleto that bastard standing theredressed all in black, the king of allthat dea
.sometimes faith slowlyprises open our ribsdecides to slip outquietlyand unseen
.i will carrya small hope, a grainof itin my pocket(it will do whatever it can)
.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)
.i wokeon theedgeof nothing,one armdanglingover theledge(numb from the wrists down)
.i disappearinto love
.dig lifejust to get buried
.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
mother knows bestI'm sorry for the bumpy ride,I know nine months in a U-haul'snot exactly living the dream.But soon, soon you can unpackyour bags, stretch your cramped limbs,blink those baby-blues and for once-see something besides my heartand soul. Because I was never thebeautiful; inside and out type.(still, i've never tried harder for anyone else)
the truth about growing up1. It's easier when you don't think.1. It starts early,on a cloudy day when you recallthe 'childhood memories' oftwo summers ago,that's when you start your backslide intogrowing up.2. On the bright sideyou won't notice this until you'regood and ripe in age,so maybe it doesn't matteranyway.3. That tightness in your chest?The feeling that you're not readyto take on the rest of your life; itnever leaves.4. It stews in the pit of your stomachmakes you doubt, but there will be days when you look backon the mountains you climbed -the raging rivers you crossed -and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you weremore prepared than you thought.5. There's nothing like your own bed.6. Laundry will never smell rightwithout mom's sweat and tears.But you still have to separate lights from darks,keep the zippers pulled tightand the buttons unhooked.7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.8. Things changethe future gnaws and rips
Railroad TracksYou drawrailroad trackson your wristhoping themetal-made grooveswill takeyou somewherebetterBut these tracksyou're chugging along ononly put youon a trainthat is zoomingtoward a deep,dark tunnelAnd at the end of this tunnel,there is no light.
jillianshe's eight.the girl never stops moving,climbing the tarnished metalof the jungle gym wildly, limbs swinging,eyes alightwith a childhood joyI shed when I passedthe port of twelve,thirteen.she is knotted curls,long silken hairwith infant-blond ends.her fingers grabher doll with the frizzy hairand painted face,and she's eager to winhide-and-seek,checkers,Mario Cart.I am old enoughto recognizethat she will not last this way,that she will grow,as all children do.every time I see her,she grows a little taller.she no longer likes Dora,I've learned,and I guess she thinksblowing bubblesis too babyish now.one dayshe will abandon her dollsfor makeup,leave her coloring booksfor boyfriends and college andlife,but right now,her world is simple:days in school, coloring pictures,nights at home,nibbling dinners and playing with her toys.right now,she's eight.
the dead and the dyingthe funny thing abouthumans is thatwe think we areinvincible and immortalgods.no—we're allroadkill,living ina tainted worldwhere cars drivetoo damn fast.and me,well,i just try toget by withoutbeing hitmore than once.
Apologies to a friendYou pour your heart out to me,and are willingto submerge mein an oceanof loveyet when I see the waterrushing towards me,I convince myselfI don't liketo swim
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.
It Comes With AgeYour bonesmight as wellbe of papier-mâché,at thetragic ratethey're decayingaw a y.
EyesThey told me not to look,But I always do.I can't help it you know?Their eyes are so beautiful...Each one shines with a colour from the rainbow.Some are green, some are blue.You might even find a set of gold amongst the lot.Some of them shine like pearls,Others twinkle like stars in the sky.Each one holds a fragile soul,Each one has its own sense of depth.And so, I always end up looking into their eyes...Right before I blink mine and I firmly squeeze the trigger...Bang...
.green childrenforce themselvesup and outof their beds -the sun smiles,and reaches downto embrace them