the moon looks like god's got a hangnail again

We counted our freckles in the pale lamplight

Comparing ourselves in the blanket of the night

We came to the conclusion that the sun was trying to pinpoint us and strike us down.

But we still stand, protected by the privacy that these backrooms offer

We found constellations in our skin

And together we formed the skies

We ignored the questions that pummeled to the top of our minds

and held each other in this silence

Joined by the company of the lonely stars.

drowning in the dirt

Planted like an annual in a ground on a planet unknown

Left to face the wind on my own

The rivaling vines and weeds

My roots grow deeper and I begin to want to bloom underground

Dirt shadows my color that the sun fades each hour

In the quiet of the night, I live for no one

Retiring to myself

Dwelling on the minutes

The rain is my only caretaker, but I must share it with the rest

I look towards the winter to frost my breath.

Why does the sun never wax?

Sundust and tempers staring this way

They shift in the wind and shadow our minds

We close one eye, peering through the other

Focusing on onesinglesun that is never set the same way to someone else

Left alone in our one-sided blindness,

We try to move forward, but we remain off-balance

We stand on the edge, where our feet have led us

And where our rational has left us

Emotions as our lead, we step into a dance

The fall of the music and the peak of the sun

Melts our memories and makes a new one.

a life so sweet that you could regurgitate it all

Like a wrapper being plunged away from a sugary sweet candy, the frilly thoughts of an anticipating and angsty adolescent come rushing off the fingertips and onto the pages. Delicately and deliberately, her mother draws a set of conclusions from the diary, stripping the pages of poured emotions away from the spine of a plain, but nostalgic, spiral notebook. She flicks her fingertips, rummaging through the remnants of the past year and the successive suicides of two sisters that now only reside and linger in the shimmers and shadows of a widow’s wandering mind at the fringe of insanity.

it's more than love

Depravation

Like loss of circulation

You turned white in the doorway

With your heart and words bound

In your throat

I told you not to leave

Because

This is a dictatorship

No one counts your vote

& You dropped your coat.

afternoon affairs

I wrote some words

First, on my hand

Then, pressed into the paper

I threw myself into the fall wind

And let the letters lie with the leaves

I thought about how I was undoing myself

As you bent to tie my shoelaces

I noticed a leaf in your hair

And my letter in your hand

And we both smiled gently

Because we came to understand..

the social workers are coming

I don’t want to quit writing today

Even though they came to my room

I just smiled and wrote down the thoughts that circled between us

Above our heads

They told me, “Get dressed. We must leave.”

But I told them, “No,

I just started to believe.”

Check-Out Time With the Receptionist

I stare at the walls in this empty hotel room

I don’t feel like listening

The telephone tries to talk with me

I called room service asking them to clean my memory

I open the veil to the city’s eyes

I sit here exposed--suffering wisdom’s arms

Can you honestly say that you don’t lie on Sundays

When your back is on the bed next to me?

I noticed that time hangs on the wall

It’s next to my bed waking me into everyday

The clothes in the closet are too nice

To belong to someone who plays with business

You stand at the door

If there is no lock, how come I am looking for a key?

A Quieted Follower

I’m in your shadow
Peaking over your thoughts
But you don’t turn around
And I stare at your back
Your eyes reflect the light
So you’ll never see me
Even if I grab you by the ankles
That link us together
I can’t ever grab your heart
So I sit quietly
Sobbing in the dark.

DRUGZZZ (haha)

You stare me down
With your hypnotist’s eye
Don’t do these things.
You’re twisting my insides
And I can’t decide
What was my original idea?
But I keep showing up at your door
You’re my drug dealer
And I want more. 

Contortion

I hold a mirror to my heart
But I don’t see a thing
I touch
And I feel warm blood
It warps me like paper poetry
Playing in the wind and rain
My eyes cry silver
Searching in the skies
Raindrops slide by on these windows
Running somewhere to be free
But just meeting a puddle of mud
My ears seek words
But this loneliness silences all
My thoughts run in laps
And I achieve nothing but a shaky embrace of myself
A meeting
The blade on my skin forges meaning within my dark thoughts
They match this stormy business
And the ice on my lips

For a Friend

Shaky, I approached the “you must be this tall” sign
But it’s not a question of height
I have a million reasons not to try this
But I can’t go now
My ticket is pressed in my sweaty palm
And you encourage me from the park bench
I give you half a smile and step, tripping, into the seat
It’s a hot summer day and everyone is getting on the ride
Nobody understands the struggle that I’m trying to cover
But I’ll do it for you, if you are close to me to this day
I’ll get on this rollercoaster and I’ll hold on tight
Even if it’s not the right choice to make
I’ll keep going until the end..

Destined to Drown

I lie on the bathroom floor
Forever sober
Floating in the excess words and water
These pipes take me by the throat
Drained of thoughts
And dancing with my reflections
I don’t see anyone other than me
But, my eyes are open without any air
Turn on the shower
I’m bathing in blood from self-inflected wounds
I know you’re not meant to find me
I wish I were never in the womb.

This Hour and This minute--are my coordinates

Hush me wind,  it’s chilly in my thoughts
Dry out my voice,  I argue too much
I can’t see you  when you stare straight at me
I’m fevered   and lonely
If your mouth   brushed mine,
I could share   this sickness
I stand    here
waiting,   staring at the street sign
This road is   parallel to yours
How do   we meet?

Abstract Subtraction

The sky echoes a lonely dribble of orange paint
With nothing but large black shadows contorting it
Into a modern abstract artist’s delight
But the threads of attachment hang from each limb
And they don’t have it inside their hearts to change it
Scissors couldn’t fix anything
And not even god can change this imperfect masterpiece
That’s left for only a child to take in their young eyes
Eyes that are half open so that they can deny what they don’t want to see
That’s how it should be.

with wings, i fly west.

My desk is covered in poetry
But I find no comfort in words
How I wish to shed my sweater
(It remains on even in the summer)
My loneliness is as long as an eagle’s journey,
But far from as valiant
And I don’t find any wormholes
I lay in my bedroom regurgitating what I know
With a hang-over
What happened last night and where am I now?

fragments of an idea

We find meaning in shards of glass
But we only smile because we don’t quite understand
Passing it off like a quick glance
And we exchange thoughts
Knowing no one is right
Answers unachievable
Yet we settle for compromises
But there are no promises in those
Do I love you?
Well I suppose…

parting to depart..

You write me off “go save yourself”
So I throw myself to the sharks
And my heart is rejoicing as my flesh is ripping
This is what I’ve wanted…
An exciting exit that takes me to a dull street corner
(I’m revisiting my vows of going to sea with you)
I think it’s time to take myself in for tonight
“Look alive child” the old taxi driver says
With a voice that echoes the very sound of gravel
Pulling up to the curb, asking
“Where to?”
But I just answer with my own question,
“How much do I owe you?”
Betting on my body to settle the bill.

merry?-go-round

I saw the back of your head
On the merry go round
Endlessly chasing dreams
Like the fictional characters we rode upon
The cynical man dictated our speed and movements
But never allowed me to catch up to you
My hands held onto the pole that used to be painted gold
But was now chipping and wearing away
Like the ages of all who had touched it
I see the young children pile on and scatter
Separating, spreading, and moving on
The mothers and fathers wait, watching, as we rotate in circles
Waving. 

Spiraling Staircase

The words you said
Stick with me like sugar to an empty glass
I keep writing about you,
But I keep seeing myself left alone
On a shelf,
A butterfly was placed in a jar
Its dust has fallen
Like that in this room
Blending in with the walls in this candlelight
You would whisper lonely things,
But now it’s just me who feels these shivers
Down the spine
And on the stairs
Descending, ascending, or transcending
These walls.

We Prefer To Be Numb

Polished, but jagged-long nails only trace the skin
In hints of growing thought
The eyes feel at place and the body feels numb and comfortable
And the mind a little unsettled
Shivers start at the core like hard alcohol spreading through like a massage
But rolling like melted ice, how it easily slides off a hand
They feel as if they turned each one of us inside out and our backs feel like a million little pricks of needles were summoned upon us at once
Just our heads are dunked into the freezing water and our necks jolt, straightening out farther to respond to the cool breath that tickles from the other side of the water
Some chosen imperfected other whispers suggestively foul things at our ears and necks severing our thoughts from drifting
And the true meaning erupts like a blossoming of blue and purple bruises starting at our smallest limbs crippling inward
Destroying like a disease, it freezes each blood line- aiming for the heart
Our feet dangle like branches in the gray clouds (no fruits on these trees)
We are then placed somewhere squandering away for years
We imagine destruction even though we have already been there
Aware of our disillusion, we ease ourselves into realization
The breath of life is indeed icy.