Fairbanks Alaska
Was harsh and cold and was
Not as fair as it was originally thought.
A rifle too small for big game
And Galliens shoes two sizes too big on Chris’s feet
He set off for his last adventure
Hiked towards Stampede trail through the wind and ice
With nothing but a grin on his face and his ten pound bag of rice

I will pack up all my things and leave for the coast.

It is cold in my mind and I am
old and used and I realize I'm not wanted.
The newer things in life replace, as does each and every day, and all the things I've grown to love are a six sided pair of dice, both

snake
        eyes.

Out of all the things we did,
I miss laughing
           with you
                     the
                           most.

dark and poised
like the violet bruises on my hips
haven't eaten in days
haven't slept since
walked around early in the morning around seven
forgot who I was for awhile
I threw on a yellow sweat shirt this morning
a friend once said to me;
"Blondes can't wear yellow, it washes them out."
so I've never worn this sweater before
but I put it on and decided maybe I wanted to be washed out
washed out like my friends and
washed out because of drugs
and washed out because of depression
so i stumbled across gravel and saw a yellow dandelion growing in-between the side walk cracks
and I held open a door for a women
who paused and said
"your sweater matches your hair, how beautiful."
and my eyes started to pour like rain in February

I set myself on fire and you watched me burn to ashes
among the ashes you searched for something to care about and you found absolutely nothing
I couldn't burn your hands or your mind
I couldn't leave the time frames I remember in your mind
This volcano I had felt was surely a mountain in your palms
because you never washed your hands after sorting through me
so when your lovers hold your hands
their palms will turn black
but you won't notice this because you saw absolutely nothing
never come back
never come back for one final goodbye
I am no longer a fire
there is no more wood to keep me alive
I am only ashes
and no matter what angle you look at me you will always see absolutely nothing

I waited in a long line to see an empty shell of a person I once knew

and when I got to the front and felt her hand, cold and hard
like my heart in that moment,

I knew I was dead, too.

semi-automatic, some would call an addict
addicted to fit descriptions of the people inside my brain

the people who i want to be, and they wash me with rain and i am thirsty but im not dying so I dont drink the storm but i drink the trying

and im not trying im existing
consisting patterns on the ceilings and the walls
blissfully and kissing my bedsheets another night of setting myself ablaze in my dreamy state, in my hazy daze

and my body is warm but the mind is cold
and its got no one to hold but its not stable enough to carry a plan and when the wind blows i become the fan and a breezy breezy palm tree on the island

always hold my own hand, and its semi-automatic
walked info traffic, and dont consider it tragic, consider it magic

Burts bees mint lip balm, I can still feel it, smell it, as if it were on me,
And I sit there and watch her overly apply it on her lips, I can feel the presence of
Innocence and bike riding up the winding trails towards Kensington and
there should have been a sign that told me to stop where I was going, to prevent
me from traveling to a different state of mind where affection was insignificant
and where losing myself was a crime

She doesn't brush her hair and her eyes are the color of the devils favorite wine. When your with her you lose minutes and hours and forget the concept of time. You call her Lush, a mix of lust and rush. They said she stole everything. You tried to prove her innocent. Hold her in the palms of your hands but the girl born of water and limestone slips through your hands like sand. Your blood clots like cement and any words she speaks is an imprint. You say shes all you know but you don't know anything about her besides that she doesn't like to wear shoes and her mind is always tired from the night before. Disheveled, wild, throwing you on the unfortunate ferris wheel wanting to ruin the nature of a being who only knows nature.

wont ask you any questions
just stick your hands inside my ribs
I'll let you hurt me
you always do

and a house is only as strong as the foundation its built upon and you've gone and done it again

I met a boy with the sun in his eyes and the sky on his hair and a brain far more elaborate than anyone could compare
But this boy and I were never meant to be,
For he was the golden land and I was the gloomy sea
And every time we touched, we would have to part again,
And I was in love
full of tidal waves and hurricanes
But all I ever did was flood him
Destroying houses and shattering window panes
The waves churn inside my entire body
Calm and collected, smooth sailing
I wasn't always the sea, I used to be a girl
But one day I told myself
"I will always carry a torch for you."
but you were the one who set me on fire
And I became the gloomy sea to avoid the flames
But sometimes at night
When the moon glows against the black
I can still feel the phantom burning in my chest

light me up like the joint you lit in your room filled with outdated things
"Have you tried shrooms?"
Drugs! Hah! What a marvelous way to exist
life gets me high enough, it ***** me up,
All that I see is your ignorance and it blinds me and wraps me up
like a piece of gum you chewed and placed on the gum wrapper I orignated from,
I repeat, light me up, like the bulb in your room that you turned on as a child to read books late at night
but now you light it up before you **** a girl just right
and she moans and enjoys it cause shes all yours tonight
she says, "be my match, be my fuse, transfer your flame, let me be your muse"
You are my wind, but I am just a kite

My mothers friend gave her a gift when I had yet to understand what life was like outside, a tiny prism set upon the top of a bookshelf against a small window, and when the sun would start to set it would cast beautiful rainbows against the walls.

And it would cast beautiful rainbows against the walls of my insides, making me get a taste of the outside.

The prism was prison bars.
Four by six in the pocket of my mother as I got older.

And she held me and closed the shudders of my mind and I called her smother.

Somedays the prism was reflections of the outside world reflecting on me, some days I was the prism taking in the outside world that I perceived.

They told me to write about how I felt when I tried to **** myself

as if any words could possibly compare to the open wounds and the pills and my heavy heart

I'm convinced the psychologist considers me her art

there is a color for every iris
a pattern for every fabric
a cloud for every sky

a way out of every labyrinth
two hands for every handshake
A grandmother for every warm apple pie

there is someone out there for everyone

everyone but me

When I get in a car
and I look out the windows
I see faces of full storied people

and I create scenes in my head
about what their lives are like
so I pretend that the man in the corvette
is going to pick up his daughter that he
hasnt seen in months

and the girl driving the truck
is going to the mall
so she can buy a dress for
her highschools annual mini ball

and the family in the mini van
is going on vacation
to a beach in florida
but first they have to stop at the
gas station

but this is all in my head
and none of it is probably true

the man is probably buying some ciggerettes
while the girl most likely goes to see a boy
to give him lots of ***
and the family is going out to eat
at an arbys but the dad just lost
his job so he cant buy his two daughters
anymore barbies

but thats also in my head so im not really sure
and so I stare at the window until I think some more

and there's a wreck on the side of I-35
so I take a moment inside my soul
to wish whoever goodbye
and I picture their lover at
their funeral
clenching chin about ready to cry
but maybe I'm just overthinking
maybe they made it out alive

at the nearest stop light
in my favorite city
sits a homeless man at the corner
clenching a sign scribbled with
"Will take any"

We keep on driving
it starts to rain on the way
I wonder what the homeless man
is thinking as he's drenched in
gods dismay

and the sky is crying hard now
for the lives of the full-storied people
but maybe thats all in my head

because in 20 minutes its sunny
I get out of the car
and forget what I thought

If nothing happens, do we let it happen?
Or do we sit back and do nothing
As if nothing can be done?

Please forget about me
Do not worry
Do not worry
I often tell myself these things
These things
I am happy
Can't you just leave me alone
Do not worry
Do not worry
Head vs. heart is a cynical concept
It's all okay let's just forget about it