Blood is the closest I can get to love
If you can see it boiling or spilled
In response to what opposes you.
Blood is my love, nontransferable.
Because I can’t get those three words out
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
You know who I am
But who I am
And what I am
Are vastly different.
You never got
To know the latter
And you never
Wanted to.
I am stardust
Sprinkled gently
Over your aching mind.
I am a
Fermenting wildberry
Longing to be consumed;
I am sweet
And I am vibrant
But I am rotten.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Mom and Dad just had another fight.
I was too scared to tell them
None of them, as usual, had been right.
But Mama is “psychotic”
And Dad’s face is carved of stone
And they aren’t open-minded
So they never will atone.
I’m sitting upright in the bathtub
Ignoring all the pounding on the door.
I would be outside and playing
But the dark sky is a bore.
I should be outside and praying
But I just don’t know what for.
I have a world inside my head
That I wish forced its way out.
My world’s the only pleasant thing
I’m brought to think about.
I’m sick of my ears ringing;
I would rather do without.
Brother’s jabbering as usual.
I know it’s rude to shut him out.
But I’m safe behind that bathroom door
I don’t know what I’d do without.
There I can do my crying
Without the constant, petty prying.
I can’t manage all my feelings
And so there I punch them out.
They always come back,
Unlike the many people I loved,
Who laugh at me so loftily
From where they float, above.
I don’t care about their halo
If they act like I’m below.
So I suppose I’ve got some running
To do. They won’t care to know.
I never knew what it felt like
To never care at all.
So by these cold, dead people
I have always been enthralled.
And now they do their waiting,
For me to run right back.
Because I might be running faster
But I’m on a circular track.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC