If toys could speak,
I think they'd cry,
when left in the basement,
to wither and die.
No longer needed,
not exciting,
not new,
that's why I feel like a toy,
whenever I think of you.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I once wrote that I liked your posessions left at my house,
because it reassured me that you're coming back.
It's only now that i realize,
with your clothes still at my house,
but also the knowledge that you are not coming back,
That though i can hold onto you materially,
it means nothing more than that
alone.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
You are slowly eating my kindness,
putting a gun in the hand of my mind.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
wielding the weapon of woo,
I dance ignorance
I bat my eyelashes,
say "no"
I am crumbling beneath "you look so pretty"
I am building up an altar made of ash
I am flirting in a way you hadn't thought of
I am fooling you,
I am fooling all of you.
I sit behind my green velvet curtain,
microphone to my beating lips,
I laugh
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:55 AM UTC
Eyes glued to an LCD screen
"Oh my god!"
You say,
"What a tragedy!"
**** you,
Because the only tragedy here,
Is those clumsy, arrogant words
Toppling,
Like vomited dollar coins,
Out of your face.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
Your knees must be bruised,
Black and blue,
For your falling on them in front of your god,
Loud and holy.
I respect your insistence,
Your wanting to save us.
But there's nobody here to save,
You're standing in an empty room.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Scoffing at the idea of being coveted,
Something to digest,
as if i could
heal
you.
Yet I write,
"Medicine"
across my chest.
am I to expect
anything
less?
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
And for every moment I exist,
I will NOT-exist for an exponentially greater number of moments
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
So why don't you bleed on my bed?
Stain my sheets with your life.
I'll see you on the other side.
Bring the fire.
I'll put it out alone.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
What is the half-life of love,
The rate of decay marked on my desire?
Surely there's an expiration date,
On the shrink-wrapped package of this fire.
Or venture, I,
Into the "never ends"?
Say,
"my love lasts as long
As a straight line extends"?
Is there a danger in being thusly naive?
Light Skin wrapped in dark,
Tomorrow on my sleeve?
The curved mark of inquiry daunts me, somehow.
Pulls me into the future,
When I should be here, now.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC