There is a solitary loneliness
to every burning star
and the sky can only ever truly illuminate
when they come together in their solitude
every black hole, every meteorite,
all the discarded planets, and all
of the burning stars
together, in complete unison
with the cosmos, and all it's galaxies
Universes within universes
all working together
the sun and the moons and every lonely comet
turning and clashing in complete order
that is when the night sky
looks brighter than ever
that is when the stars
shine their brightest.
As I walk in from the back door, and kick the snow from my boots, my mother greets me.
"How was your day?" She asks, smiling at me from the kitchen. A warm smell wafts to my nose from the crock pot. She's been cooking all day.
"Fine." I say, and I put on that grin, the one that is plastered to me.
I let my backpack hang like a brick from my right shoulder and I stumble up the steps to the loft. I bump my bedroom door open with my hip as I attempt to detangle my earbuds with my fingers. I sigh and drop my bag to the floor with a heavy thump.
My eyes land on my bed, and desire to lay down overcomes me. I fall face first onto the blankets, and I am greeted by a mouthful of fuzz from the fur pillow beneath my face. I pull the hairs off my tongue, and plop my face down once again. I sigh deeply, almost melodramatically.
I pull my buds from beneath my legs and pop them into my ears. Without interest, I slide my finger across the iPod screen until I find a song that catches my interest. The music starts to ring into my eardrums, and I lose my gaze up to the ceiling.
I seem to have forgotten how exhausting love is. All my emotions have drained right out of me, and dripped onto the linoleum floor of the school hallways. I was too tired to clean them up. Too lost in some fantasy of him. I forget these things, you see? The right One only comes along every once in a while.
I sit up, and hop off my bed and step to my mirror. I peer at the girl looking back at me. Red hair, blue eyes, earbuds peeking out from beneath her hair, a bored look on her face. And I wonder if that's what he sees. I know he can't quite see me, through the mist, and I suppose, neither can I. Oh, and where's her smile that is usually grinning back at me?
My face is now close up against the glass, focusing on her pale eyes- and my thoughts drift to his earthy eyes, and I feel like someday, maybe, I'll lose myself in them. But for now, he can't see it, he doesn't even know.
I let myself lean against the wall, and slowly lower down to the fuzzy rug under my toes, my back remaining against it.
And my mind starts to play like a symphony- a symphony of seamless hopes and dreams. And in a rapid flash, what we could be flashes through my mind.
Someday, I hope you he and I will dance to the jazz of Tony Bennett. I hope he'll will write me a masterpiece, and maybe he'd will play it for me. I would listen silently with admiration and watch as his fingers fly across the ivory keys. On hot summer nights we could enjoy the indie concerts downtown, both of us with Ben & Jerry's in hand. We could sit on the old bench beneath the oak, his fingers weaved into mine, and people watch, amusing ourselves at people that walk by. We can lay on the green grass field behind my house, and look to the sky at night. He'll laugh as I insist that I see a constellation- even though we both know that I don't. As he walks me back home, we'll stop at the corner, and he'll pull back the stray hair that falls into my eyes. He might tell me that I'm beautiful, and I'll protest it's not true. We might just stay there to forget everything. And stay in that moment.
Maybe someday, he'll will be mine forever. Maybe someday.
In that moment, every neuron in my brain was perfectly aligned.
They knew something I didn't, and I don’t think they wanted to tell me, either.
I had to figure it out on my own, hoping to not be mislead.
You whispered to me that you enjoyed stealing the moisture from my lips
and I whispered back that you took the oxygen from my lungs in the process
but I liked the crushed, suffocating feeling in the pit of my chest as I secretly long to feel it again.
I tolerated the bags under my eyes as my face buried in your neck became more and more important to me (it started to feel like home)
and told me not to be ashamed of them because they were proof that you had gotten the attention you deserved.
My sleepless nights resulted in page after page of the notes I took so I would eventually know your soul like the back of my hand.
I only like to write when I’m suffering from insomnia anyways, because that’s when things start to make sense. (Like you, you made sense to me)
Just like things only make sense to you when your breath reeks of intoxication.
I studied the veins on your wrists until I knew them well enough to see the picture with my eyes closed
as you studied my fingertips and made me believe that you could perfectly connect the dots of my pores and still know it was me even if you went blind.
You wanted to know me as well as my worn bed sheets, which gently caresses every part of my exhausted being each night, inch by inch.
I can’t help but smile as I write this, no one was as determined as you.
I was pretty damn determined as well, if I do say so myself.
I longed to know everything about your insanity.
You must have been pretty insane, smoking on the back porch with your friends and still making sure you didn't forget to ask me how my day was.
Again, it makes me smile realizing someone was so hell-bent on knowing me.
Tell me what you remember.
I want as many memories to flood back into my brain so that maybe in some way, I can feel it again.
I was used. Your back-up plan.
You were lost, and you wanted to feel loved temporarily until a better offer came along.
I was lost, and I wanted to feel loved permanently, so I fell for it.
The closest thing to what I had been searching for for so long slipped away like sand through the cracks between my fingers, not leaving a trace behind.
In a way, I should be thanking you.
You've gotten more poems out of me than anything else in the longest time
and now you’re good-for-nothing except curing writer’s block.
I used to often explore the streets at night,
playing on the painted lines that tells the drivers, everything from wrong to right.
'Why not a soul in sight?'
Each evening is beautiful …
and each evening is quite nice.
The evening, even stays quiet til' about quarter of five.
Which is just enough time to explore your mind.
To get lost in your thoughts,
and lose any sense of time.
Questioning every ounce of the world,
on every drop of a dime.
I held away my questions,
until I came to the lines.
I would explore every possibility inside my mind.
I spent enough time playing on those lines to lose my mind…
and all sense of time…
Usually, after about five o'l five,
I'd see the glimpse of a light,
from a car go rushing by,
and I would know it was time to say goodbye,
to myself playing on those lines.
But, the last time I recall,
playing on those lines...
It was quarter until nine,
and I was still in the middle of the street,
dancing on the lines.
When one morning,
a car did not notice me,
and that was the last time I messed around on those lines.
deep down in my head,
I've known for quite sometime..
that I should not gambol my life on those lines..
But, I was lost,
and I kept going…
and I kept…
I losing my mind.
It only takes one thought to drown, and to lose all sense of your time.
Leaves dance as they die, birds sings as they fly. Where is weeping?
Why such silence in the exploding heavens? I know the desert thrives
At night, I know the ocean depths have light, what's left is always right
And the sun is stored in cells as the crystals are growing in the frosts.
Don't you hear the music that runs cross the tracks? Can't you see
The Sirens floating on their backs? Bound to a ship that tips and flays
About the maelstrom we are spinning bobs to the edge, we are blind
By our own hands. The shape is the binding journey and all around us
The feet are worn with miles and leagues as many have been moved;
As many do make what was always ready to be born like a new voice
Ringing in the colour of absolution and truth. The maiden Earth is all
A blossom, and our tears, are a salt ocean and death is a supernova,
Death is a Star. Is those around us the shaping of the hardware?
Seducer of young men and women.
Shaking hands at ten bucks a pop,
Then pulling them in to an embrace they cannot escape from.
Even if they'd wanted to.
You are the green outsides when
Their insides are blue.
You promise them solution,
But rarely follow through.
YOU are something I despise.
am not just some prep.
Some pot-head-hating bitch
who knocks it before she's tried.
to hang on, that is.
While you pulled them away from me.
I'll never forget the look in her too-red eyes
when she told me I couldn't stay.
That she'd made other plans that day.
That day and every other from then on.
I could smell your perfume tangled in her hair.
When she hugged me good bye.
That's twice now.
Twice now you stole my best friend
With promises of popularity and good humor.
That's twice you ripped out my heart.
Twice too many times.
I've written sobering rhymes against you.
And they were not the first.
I know I can't blame you, completely.
You didn't take their names.
You didn't make them make the choice,
You didn't force their voice to strip me down to tears.
And you didn't tell me to say no, when I had the chance
To dance with you.
But you gave them the option to,
All the while,
Whispering sweet nothings into their ears.
Pulling at their fingertips.
Promising gifts you could not guarantee.
And last night,
I could taste you on his lips.
I could see your shadow forming in his lungs
As he spoke.
So, Mary Jane.
I am begging you.
Don't show him that their is no other lover better than the company of you.
Don't show him the side of you that only
One who'd tried it could know
And let him love it.
I don't think I could take another blow
of your breath in my face,
With diffident intentions,
He turns away.
I dreamed last night,
Of beautiful people,
And places I've known.
I wonder if when we
take that long forever sleep,
If those permanent sweet dreams,
Will be our final destinations?
The fire politely rages on at her center
The drive cascades up from the heart and out from the mouth and
Smoke rings forming the letters of the passion and blowing defiantly
(or pleasantly) In my face. Sparks escape occasionally, starry dreams from here to wherever whyever
nudging quietly the air to the side and lingering where they may as the dance among the dreams
All to the sound of the drums and the sound of her heartbeat
and the night air
and the sky
coldbreath and sparks forever in the Tango
the first time we spoke alone,
in an empty voice,
'die liebenden tot sind.'
and when i didn't acknowledge it,
you said it again
till i kicked you and snapped 'i don't speak german, you fuck.'
that wasn't my line.
i was supposed to tell you they were dead from birth,
or something equally poetic.
i was supposed to be a walking paragon of
i was supposed to be the love interest
in the tragic love story of your life,
you told me
we would bring each other down.
you told me the world was cold
and we would drown in frozen lakes together,
when hypothermia turns to terminal burrowing,
we could burrow within each other.
you told me i would kill you.
i spent 5 hours in the shower boiling off my skin.
you and i
will not sink in tandem, you and i will not
fall apart in unison,
i am not your personal suicide pill.
i am not your romantic,
in helpless self-destruction,
you're talking like we'll die tomorrow but i have plans to live a while yet,
if you jump from lover's leap
then you will fall alone.
i think you think
i love you.
i think you think i value
more than the voice of my thoughts.
it is december and the sun is too bright
to look anywhere
but your feet.
it is december and you're waxing poetic
about the boy who broke his neck
falling in the forest at night.
you look me in the eyes like you're trying
to crawl through my cornea.
you make eye contact an act of violence.
dream about me?]
you're trying to be poetic.
i don't tell you about when i dreamed
you snapped your neck
while we walked in the forest,
and i left quickly,
lived peaceful and alone.
i don't tell you about when i dreamed you moved on,
or that reoccurring dream where you spread my legs so far,
they snap out of the sockets.
i tell you i don't dream.
i tell you i don't sleep.
i tell you
i wear boxing gloves to church
but jesus never shows, and really,
i shoulda known he'd run from this fight too.
i tell you
i wear boxing gloves to bed but i just end up
chewing on the laces,
boxer's fractures never visited me.
bar room fractures on the nightstand.
[i dream about you,]
and i take another hit.
you've been in my air for six months.
under my skin for five,
and it's been three months
since you stitched our veins together.
i fall asleep wearing your scarf
and dream of garrotes that smell like you,
dream of strangulation
and bruises on my throat.
i don't love you like a motive.
you don't love me like a person.
you told me i had a clean heart,
you told me i was an innocent soul,
you told me you would corrupt me, don't
your touch doesn't have the power
to make me sick.
only i can do that to myself.
i'm not a virginal sacrificial saint
for you to build altars to.
lets see if we can cut our hearts out with our fingernails.
i bet that they'll look just the same:
bloody and red.
the same size as our clenched fists,
guess it's not your fault
you never learned the difference between the two,
you keep trying to fight with aorta and arteries
while my knuckles bruise your gut.
i taped my hands and i'll tape yours too.
this will be a fair fight-
don't break your wrist
when you break my nose.
i'll teach you i'm more solid than a saint.
i'll teach you i am bile and spit and piss.
i'll teach you to love me human
or not at all.
die liebenden sind nicht tot ist.
die liebenden sind auf einen kampf vorbereitung.
i honestly believed what you told me last night
and i thought you did too
but this morning as you left
you didn't say you love me back
and that hurt more than you know
because it took me watching you walk down the stairs,
knowing that i won't see you for weeks,
to build up the courage to say
what i want to say every time i see you
i said what i've been too scared to say
and you simply responded with