How does it feel to miss something that was never yours?
To feel your heart burn daily for a lost love
who never loved you solely?
Is it truly lost, then?
How unimportant, used, betrayed, and lied to I feel.
He has someone new, and I stand here searching.
Struggling and fighting to keep an even keel.
Doing anything to keep my stomach from lurching.
I feel alone, lost, afraid, and unwanted.
Cold, embarrassed, angry, and haunted.
I'm weak, upset, distressed, and disheveled.
The walls of my heart, completely leveled.
But they're up now again, never to fall.
Never to lean, the strongest of all.
So thick and mighty like a redwood tree,
No one and nothing will ever get to me.
This chill you feel here in my soul?
It reaches my bones and dims my eyes.
I embrace the cold to only feel whole
I spread my wings to fly over the lies.
I lie to myself, I lie to them, and I lie to him.
I'm convinced it's all ok, all alright.
Hoping no one can see the pain inside,
My heart's fire slowing to an ember dim.
It gets better day by day, night by night
I'll find a way to do what's right.
I'll move on, just as he
I'll be as strong as that redwood tree.
I'm a sapling now, small and weak.
I'm very thin and my voice is meek.
But give me time and water my roots
And you can be the first to taste my fruits.
Seek it out, and ye shall find
You're the one to release my mind.
Lend me your wings or teach me to fly
One way or another, I'll touch the sky.
He's not a bad guy, she's not a bad girl
But thoughts of them make me hurl.
She smart and she's pretty,
She's nice and she's witty.
He's handsome and tall,
He's wonderful, all in all.
I should be happy, I should be glad
But all I feel right now is super sad.
I have good days and I'll have bad
But half the time I'm raging mad.
Break ups are not easy or fun
But sometimes they must truly be done.
I've fallen for a pilot on the USS Bush
A life impossible without a great push.
See, I desire to be a Marine
Strong, proud, and incredibly pristine.
Two officers together but always apart
Far in distance, but near in heart.
No one can say what the future holds.
But I can't wait to see what unfolds.
I'll find myself with or without him.
I'll earn my wings and so much more.
My dreams will fill my heart to the brim.
My dream be in the United States Marine Corps.
Alone or together I know I'll be me.
This life or the next, I know I'll be free.
Ripped ribbons scattered aimlessly,
with fractured cups, dirt and dust
pink pearly acetone just won't be enough
to erase the evidence of you.
With forced confessions,
spilled out all past indiscretions,
and cursed vindications and blood
splattered like a musty revenge.
Hand print caresses that show
Polaroid prints all faded and jaded
like the illusion of us.
It was desperate fingers
that clung to the railings
but the force of gravity meant I had to let go.
Hope had revived me
Like water to my parched throat
my oasis is the desert
All my horrid words were revoked.
Yet nothing will ever be enough
to surgically remove
our open bleeding wounds.
I must tend to the injured,
Leave alone the wielder
Knife still in hand
How did it come to this?
I missed your voice
so much it made me cry
yet after I heard
it made everything worse
Mourning a loss that was not mine
I still love you
but it burns
until I have to take my hand off
the all consuming flame.
My teardrops cannot pay the price,
or eradicate the past in peoples minds
Will I forever be beholden to this guilt that now defines me?
Too many skin graphs to hide the scarred tissue underneath.
All paths lead me back to here.
I'm helpless to watch your ghost
Linger,you still linger.
We drink to make each other more tolerable.
Whiskey washes over the painful memories of broken trust and promises.
I don’t remember the last time we didn’t fight.
It’s like I love you too much to care anymore.
I’d give you the world if I could,
but that’s easier said than done.
You don’t want me to be so kind to you;
and that’s something I’ll never understand.
Don’t forget who I was before you tore me apart.
I was a pieced together puzzle;
until deconstruction became your hobby.
You became my demise.
Tears trickled down my wrinkled shirt the day you left.
In our life wine rhymed with love
and water tasted like sacrifice.
There are only so many wounds liquor can heal.
New stains painted my shirts,
not tears or wine.
Red cuffs covered up memories of you.
Blood washed down the drain just before you came back.
Now it’s too late to save us.
Maybe we were doomed from the start.
But I’ll refuse to believe we weren’t perfect for each other.
Not until God tells me otherwise.
I suppose I’ll see him soon and ask for His opinion.
Your embrace has never felt more soothing
as my vision blurs to black.
You whisper sweet thoughts you should’ve said before.
We drank to make each other more tolerable.
I couldn’t think of someone I’d rather tolerate.
When I embark from dark to light I’ll remember you.
I love you too much to care anymore.
One step. One breath. Each day is a new test. Laughing fits Crying spells. Picking at new scabs.
The space between life and pain is separated by a thin veil. I've opened up the curtains and cast away the darkness. The razor cuts of his tongue are silenced by my love. Yet yet yet the painful choices of my now paralyze thought.
Wrapped inside a cotton brain with small thoughts and toy trains. My ego seeks how to learn without leaving a perpetual burn. My brothers and sisters await at the gate. I see them clear i see them now but they can't wait.
Lets start anew today amongst the ruins of the festive clothes. A bird will rise with a red nose in tow squirting water from a flower. This bird climbs and climbs to an apex of thought. Behind the world and over forever. Rain slowly falls and floods the world, pain is gone, a rainbow appears. A new life begins today on a hazy green path.
This means everything and nothing at all. It's all nonsense and jibberish. Consciousness streams and flows. And it feels damn good to be me for one single moment. One drop of irrelevant rain into life's ocean. The pencil is dull so I must stop. Happiness ensues. The crowd cheers the end of the show. A young girl wears a shiny white mask.
je vais prendre un petit morceau.
you vomited tequila. it stained the snow.
i at the mirror, powdering my nose.
milk eyes, the ring of water from your beer.
je vais prendre un petit morceau.
et je suis ici, et tu es certain.
your big razor mouth cutting up my lips, and i love it.
and i flirt with your hands, d'habitude.
je vais prendre un petit morceau.
bile sigh, clinging to you as sea foam.
i in the chair, merry-go round wrists.
sand-dollar eyes, sadness in my throat
salt water, i swallow it.
laisse un pourboire.
come back when you can.
the waiting in hallways
lined up on the wall
with eyes following the chatterbox and her
flowing train of rabid listeners
who hang themselves ritualisticly on her
shallow water illustrations
swimming on this thin tide of unpublished lip candy
her bubblegum words are commentary
upon which her followers build temples
to the unfit mothers of televangelists
the chatterbox spills her loud thoughts
on the sun warmed concrete
as the summer lawnmower navigates
around santa and his late december reindeer
and the children's labyrinth of christams morning plans
while i sunbath nearby
she gathers her spilled thoughts
and races away proudly proclaiming that'
my poems are too short for the pulitzer
so she is ready for her laurels
and a fast road to academia
with a neatly packaged version of her inner perversions
spread like sex and lip candy
on the local coffee shop bookshelf's
for the pretty college girl with glasses to drink from
There's a golden sunset in my head.
I go there when the music swells,
I go there when the nights are dead,
I go there when I think of Hell.
I smile at what is evil,
And spew laughter at the hearse.
The sunset skews my vision,
And I had thought that it made me worse.
I try to draw the golden water,
So that maybe you could drink it to.
I try to describe its every contour,
To try and give the sun to you.
For the sunset's in the car chase,
The sunset's in the bar,
The sunset's for the horsemen,
And all the stories that went too far.
I paint these savage pictures,
That never seem to catch the light.
And I marvel at my failure,
With bitter re-reads in the night.
But the sun is still there setting,
And there's time to catch it yet.
Even these words have escaped me,
But I can always try again I guess.
That you left on my skin
Are each a perfect hollow
Like sand lit by lightening
Glass filling with water when the rain comes
Sustaining and then draining
Like the steps you took
When you decided that there were better places to stand.
The fire is burning
The tides of war have begun turning
But there shouldn't be tides to turn at all
And then our loved ones would not fall
The wind is blowing
The fear has quickly begun growing
But there should be no fear to grow now
And no guns to load, no time to take a bow
The water is rushing
The Earth’s wounds have begun gushing
But there should be no wounds to gush here
And our eyes should not be so full of tears
The ground is shaking
The world has begun quaking
But we cannot stop it now
For this is something we've allowed
1. Put a sad song on repeat. Some people will tell you to play a favorite, but you should always use a sad song. One so painful that it breaks your heart in pieces with every itinerant chord change. One whose words slide sharper than the six fresh blades stashed under your dirty socks across flushed and anxious skin. One you only remember on nights like this. You want a song that sneaks on trembling legs, unstretched and untested, into your thoughts to leave muddy footprints on everything it can reach. Let the bass line become a heartbeat; inhale to it. Exhale to the kick drums, and moan to the guitars. These are the nights you won’t remember, the songs you won’t remember; but when you do, you’ll know.
2. Snap a rubber band against your skin. Leave welts, because that’s really all you want. Watch the inflammation evolve and fade. The rosy lines of discontent will eventually dissolve back into their pale, ivory stasis, and you will be no worse for the wear. Keep one on your wrist day and night, like a shackle—a rubber band that is. You will depend on it one day, wound up in its elastic tension, a knot stretched to breaking, and you will snap. Snapsnapsnap. And you will revel in the marks you leave as they fade from your memory.
3. Go for a walk or a jog. Run. Feel the cool of the breeze as it dries the sweat to a tacky layer of salt on your forehead. Feel the stitch form swiftly in your side and imagine a knife. It slips between the bones of your ribcage. It twists, knicking calcium splinters into your chest cavity. Keep running and never stop. As your knees cry out and crumple to the sidewalk, your breath will come in short gasps of agony, and you will feel everything and nothing at once.
4. Scream into a pillow. Let your lungs bleed venom and misery into tear-stained feathers and compression-resistant fiberfill. All the secrets you’ve whispered through the years will whisper back and muffle your anguish. Breathe. Soak in the regurgitated carbon dioxide and know it is yours. Feel it burn as feather fronds slip through thin cotton mesh and into your nasal cavities. Catch your breath deep in your chest and scream again. You’ll lose your voice one of these days.
5. Spend hours absorbed in art—draw, paint. Scratch endless lines into paper with the implement of your choice. Crosshatch ink into pliant wooden fibers until it bleeds through to the other side or even the next page. Splash an image of the object of your frustrations on a wall-sized canvas. Spend hours inking over those delicate fibers and indelicate features with dusty charcoal and night-black Krylon. Paint yourself until your smile no longer cracks, but flexes with the heat of your skin. They will love you now, an ever-grinning Mona Lisa.
6. Call a friend on the telephone and make uncomfortable small-talk. Ask them how their day was, even though you saw them twice. When they sigh it was fine and ask how you are, reply with the same lie as always. Oh, I’m alright; a little tired, but okay. Eventually, you might even believe it when the words tumble instinctively from your lips, and then you’ll be fine too.
7. Draw a butterfly on your wrist and name it for someone who would be sad if you relapsed. Color your butterfly; make it your friend. Remember that it’s temporary, that it will eventually wash off in the sink or shower, but while it’s visible you cannot kill it. To slice off its wings would be murder; to scorch cigarette marks into its thorax, cruel. You wouldn’t hurt an innocent butterfly, would you? Someday you’ll name that butterfly after yourself, and then you will be free.
8. Slip an ice cube into the crook of your elbow. Let it melt; from the sharp sting of frost to the slow itch of evaporating wet. Watch it disintegrate and know you are warm. You radiate, even if it is only enough to coax water from an ice cube. But you are warm and alive, and that is enough. Let that knowledge numb you. Remember when you were small and hurt your ankle falling down the stairs. When your mother found a decades-old bag of peas in the basement freezer for you to wear, thinking it would numb the ache of a tiny sprain. The bag dripped into your socks and squished in your shoes, but the cold made it feel new again (eventually). Watch the ice and feel the cold as the liquid slides down your sleeve. You will melt it and it will melt you.