I'm stuck gnawing on this umbilical cord
Attached to Appalachia
Coiling around my neck
I came into this world, adrenaline coursing
Held eye contact with the Doctor
Stared my father in the face
A boy fell in love with me because I always won staring contests
He cried blue ridges,
Pressed a chess piece in my palm
I can feel that night(knight)
Things change -- the mountains don't.
I nod in perpetual agreement, eyes dry.
I'm sewn into this earth
Eroding and growing
Stagnant and moving
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:36 AM UTC
to look out the window and think of time
to think of rhythm
to think of rhyme
to feel the ghost of my personal death
to feel my heart
in my chest
to look through a pane of man-made glass
out on a yard
of engineered grass
I feel my spirit
I feel my past
But all I see
is my breath on the glass
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Even the dirt here is sterile
Dry
No matter how much you sin,
This building is tainted with the white-hot holy of
Institution
I don't wash my hair for 7 days
If I hold my breath long enough
I can imagine my plastic bed is a
Brown couch
It smells sour
In this grungy living room sit
12 disciples in a circle
Their ***** fingernails clink
And their hazy breath makes me
Dizzy with delight
Some nights I can't quite float above these
crisp white sheets
I tell my friends I've been writing more and
They believe me
Why wouldn't they?
Winter is coming
The rain reminds me I am still alive
It laps at my feet
Shallow.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
"We come from the Earth and to the Earth we must return..."
In this phrase I found solace and comfort
Until my stilettos sunk into the ground and I remembered
I am only made from Adam's rib
So I cursed the Earth
and ground my heels into the dirt
Man returns to the Earth and I
I am made from a rib...
Suspended in the cavity around the
heart of man
Flittering like a restless bird who
cannot find her perch
Frowning as I fly into the sky which I
do not know and and where I
do not belong
While man builds airplanes to chase after
me
While man hunts the pheasant for
sport
I want to die and return to the Earth
I want broccoli to grow where I lay
and be left uneaten to
flower
I will no longer be the bony protector
of the heart of a man
and maybe in casting away my birthright
I may return to the Earth, once again.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
When she speaks smoke wheezes between her rocky lips
And her voice is crummy gravel pavement
Her gut balances on her hips
Protruding into a bulbous cap puckering into a navel
Filled to capacity with some slimy IT
Created by ***** and a moment's attraction
She croons to her abdomen
Pebbles falling from her mouth
Bouncing off her skin and hitting IT's ears
As a mushy echo
Years of rolled burning paper cause her to droop
She drags like a curtain
Smells like a motel room
And loves IT
Because she can
Because she will
Because she must
As wolves howl to the moon she must
And when she cries out in the wee hours
And someone places a wooden spoon between her teeth
Her crusty screams will be IT's awakening
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
I'm more poetic when I'm alone
My love poetry is purple
I'm better at prose that I feel
Guilty about
I'm more awake when I'm on my own
I have time to think and to feel
About myself
And know her
I'm more hungry when I'm alone
Hungry for experiences
And homemade bread
And to see my corners get softer
I'm more when I'm on my own
Happy
Sad
Everything
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
I need to cry
But try as I might I have only shed one tear
So instead all the tears I need to cry
Are swishin' around inside of me and it makes me
Sick
I need to throw up
And I would rather be writing love poetry
But I'm better at writing poetry that I feel guilty about
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
I have a hard time breathing
When I climb stairs, when I run, when the air is too dry, too wet, too breezy.
When the pollen falls or the weeds grow tall or when you kiss me and tell me I'm pretty.
I have a harder time sleeping
My heart gets to beating and the creaks, they turn into monsters
And my reflection grows fangs and branches hit the panes of the window just about my bed.
My head
fills up with worries, and screams made up stories
I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying
But at night next to you
The fear that once grew
Never existed, and still I can't sleep.
One hand on your shoulder, I think "I could hold her"
Why would I sleep? Why would I sleep? Why would I sleep?
I go home to my own bed, the worries fill my head
I lay there and wish I could breathe.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
Could you love me,
Weak fingernails and all?
With that deep passionate love
That love that I've never felt
Not even for you.
Could you love me,
Scabby knees and all?
With a changing kind of love
That is the only kind of love
I've ever known
Could you love me,
Blistered tongue and all?
With a painful kind of love
That I know too well
When I'm not myself
And would you love me
When my fingernails break?
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
Do not leave me here alone and dead
Do not hack me to pieces and put me in a box
Do not cast me in wax and admire my humanity
Do not cover me in rose petals and bless my corpse
Do not kiss my blue lips tenderly and affectionately
Do not roll me into a river
Do not burn me in my grave
Put me in a flower *** and let me grow with broccoli
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC