The joke was a fruit/crushed beneath the hand of the teller/in a surge of joy/it’s rich, ripe juices of spring flowing ceaselessly/raw bliss/ shimmering with mirth/and we don’t have to lower our bodies/and bite down to the core/to know it’s done it’s purpose on this world
May 9, 2022
May 9, 2022 at 7:06 AM UTC
i am composed
of rotten pomegranates
a rich stench of sweetness emanates from my pores
loose-limbed,
i am glistening, in my prime, about to free fall into my own undoing, like a flower slick with nectar
just waiting for the bees to swarm
reaching towards the sun
and, in vain, turning towards you instead
and i'm crumbling into desecration,
my honeyed blood churning
tripled suns
I swear my body is illuminated
I swear that i smell of flowers
and i know that i have reached the point of no return
so tear me,
your slender fingers
severing me from everything
everything i'm rooted in,
tear me away from the dark musk of earth
and fill your senses with my loosened aroma
as i fall away from grace
crumble into fire
and turn away from the sun one last time
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 12:08 PM UTC
my rage weeps from my pores,
it ruminates from my skin like the stench of ************
the red blur,
the fire,
the girlhood,
the wound.
i am
spitting up sparks,
exhaling crescendos and
flailing; a dying fish/girl
a frenzied howl, screaming herself into existence
because the noise in her head is too loud,
because a dozen things are being pushed into her mouth
and she'd rather puke
that sit and swallow
Jan 12, 2022
Jan 12, 2022 at 9:02 PM UTC
i met you
in waves of song
a collective harmony that your heart played just for me
i stepped through the choruses sloshing across my feet
and saw you standing on an island alone
i stayed in the water watching your island
and at night we watched the same stars
burning brightly across the sky
and now i'm on dry land
and i'm the one with the SOS
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 9:35 AM UTC
lost in the lock of longing,
like a mother that never loved me rocking me to sleep
when all you can think about is
the stars in the frigid night sky
it can be hard to imagine the glow of the sun as anything but garish
but what when the stars disappear?
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 12:46 PM UTC
I am covered in sticky black ink
in nightfall that traces the exact shape of my body
the world is dark with my eyes closed or open
i try to scrape it off and create poetry but i can no longer
it is a part of me
it is a bruise that blooms like sunset over my skin
with crushed stars lingering in my hair
and for years i craved you and cried
i thought you were concentrated hope
beautiful and just out of reach
i can flick the lights on
and see you as you are now
there is a fine line between hope and dread
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 2:54 PM UTC
I'm made out of sunset
Of mirrors that smashed
I'm made out of nothing that is made to last
and if you know me,
I am permanently preoccupied with your past
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 7:24 AM UTC
The **** jokes/the derelict bathroom stalls etched with a million scribbles, organized chaos of a hundred girls screaming quietly/when they asked where we wanted to vacation he wrote anywhere but here and hit submit/sitting in the dark with grainy holocaust pictures on the screen and crying in the classroom/standing in the gym away from your group as the basketballs thump on the ground in constant rhythm and the girl staring at you, asking what are you wearing/crying even more in the bathroom/the "he never loved you" and better luck next time/walking home alone, cold and the trees whisper in the wind anywhere but here, fly away anywhere but here/
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 4:07 PM UTC
we are sitting on a roof,
hair billowing,
eyes darting
across the abandoned schoolyard
hoping some ghostly officers
won't scream at us to
come down from the sky
we are constant,
even when the inconsistent dreams melt around us,
when they tell us- god is a killer,
and the women are rotting in their brightly colored fabrics,
that the holy books are full of poison,
dripping angelic off the pages until they blind us for all to see,
that we are not muslims,
not christians,
nothing at all
except for empty bodies
connected in a rusted set of chains,
only eased by tears,
by rain,
by your bright eyes,
something almost holy
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 1:52 PM UTC
constantly creating worlds, as delicate and beautiful as paper,
strokes of ink scrawled all over that dissolve in the sun
and get set on fire,
i lost the addresses and now I'm a creature of a poem-tainted new world,
rotting in the sun and constantly setting my mind on fire
recycling the dead universes, I was being strung along
Its hard to believe that these places were my homes when now they just drift through my mind and come in my dreams
if i went back there i would probably break down crying
i don't belong there anymore
it hurts
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 12:39 PM UTC