so long were the days when I had something
before I knew I wanted it,
and I didn't quite know where it came from
but it was always there.
when the light from the snow outside my window would wake me up at noon.
when your black eyes felt warm in mine.
when the snow eventually melted,
revealing a world that smelled
like lilies and honey
from an unknown source in the night
wafting through the window
for a week straight.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
it was one of those nights where you wake up, see the sun coming in grey through the window, and forget whether or not you slept.
her advice to me was: "when you want to feel unique, say a sentence that you think no one has ever said before." but it was different than that. I felt alone. I didn't want to say something that would put me further on the island I felt I was becoming. I yearned to be a part of something bigger than myself. so I carefully formulated in my mind the words that many many people have wrapped their teeth around, letting it hiss through the gaps:
"I've never felt so happy in my entire life."
I whispered it into the heavy night air of august. no one heard me except for myself, and I thought of that tree that fell in the forest that didn't make a noise because nobody was around to hear it. of course I didn't feel like that moment was more special than the rest. we were just laying in bed on a wednesday night. I was leaving home again very soon. maybe one day I would look back and realize that it was the truth, because I sure didn't believe it now. but I thought of everyone who had let that slip through the molasses of spit and ooze over their chapped lips, maybe lovers behind blinds, laying exactly like we were, in bed on a wednesday, and I thought of every situation that prompted that and for a second I became them.
I let myself sink into the sound of the fan overhead and the smell of violets coming off her skin. I closed my eyes and fell asleep just in time for morning to break.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
with tobacco sitting open
in dusty papers on our kitchen table,
still warm from the glow
on your mint and cedar skin,
and with the sky cloudy and quiet in our window,
you kissed my crooked mouth
like the ghost hand that held the door open for you.
Heartache is an actor,
mumbling his soliloquy on the wide empty stage of my tongue
while the people in the back complain that they can't hear.
when people speak of a love not returned,
if you're lucky,
you can still hear a thin warm ribbon of blood
wrapping around teeth,
almost undetectable,
and the name hangs heavy in the room
like silver tinsel after christmas
if the still oozes hot, black heartache
or else it is a wound that has scabbed over.
the lover is left lying like
a ribbed dog on a dry path,
summer's dust coating organs and throats
purple and bruised,
church bells ringing through tall grass.
but you heard every word that Heartache was saying.
you smarted away from me,
as if I had bitten you.
I think maybe
you could taste all of this war
waging among the rafters
in the high ceilings of my mouth.
and all I could taste was copper pennies
for months after you left.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
one thing I've noticed about tacoma
is how many churches there are.
there's one about every three blocks.
and here I am, on my way to the hospital
counting all the churches on the way
starving myself under the grey clouds
to make room in my stomach
for your body and your blood
that pours from your veins like merlot
every time you get drunk
and then split your lip
on some nameless disciple's fist.
so I get it.
maybe we're all just looking for someone to worship
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 5:04 AM UTC
your lips
wrote your name
all over me
and i don't
know how to get it off
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
i only know your first name
and whatever i called you at two in the morning,
but i can still smell your sweat on my skin.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
i felt hollow for the first time
a year ago today.
like i didn't belong to myself.
like no matter how many showers i took,
i couldn't scrub this new stranger away
to find myself again
at the core.
the day before the 50th anniversary of kennedy's death
i had something carved out of me
under a sky of grey
and i didn't believe i would ever feel whole again.
i came home. the news was on.
the only thing that made me smile that day
was the headline:
apparently a new volcanic island sprung out of the ocean
off the coast of japan,
just like that.
last night, my roommate and i discussed
the fact that jackie o was wearing a pink dress
and her husband's blood
and she didn't take either off for days.
this morning i woke up
and my roommate gave me a lollipop.
i ****** away the red shell
like i ****** you off my bones
and i found nothing in the middle
but a core of sweet chocolate.
i looked at my map, right at the spot
off the coast of japan,
and thought about how i'm celebrating that island's birthday
right alongside it.
maybe everyone else forgot about it, but i never will.
tomorrow will be the 51st anniversary
of the most famous ****** in the world,
and still, nobody knows who pulled the trigger.
it is raining outside.
the sky is crying
like i was
a year ago today.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
everyone always tells me
(question: what's your favorite color?
answer: blue)
that if you love something
(question: what's your favorite book?
answer: infinite jest)
you have to let it go
(question: what scares you most?
answer: rejection)
and see if it comes back
(question: have you ever seen someone die?
answer: yes)
i think
(question: is it better now?
answer: yes)
maybe we're both waiting
(question: do you love me?
answer: I ******* do)
for that to happen
(question: do you miss me?
answer: )
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
loneliness
is when you have watched your favorite show
so many times
that you, as well as your family,
know the complicated theme song
and everybody sings along every night
as you sit down for dinner in front of the TV
and then you watch it at midnight
when no one's awake
and you let it play without singing
love
is eavesdropping on a sister and brother
walking behind you,
the sister as high as a kite
and the younger brother wearing a leather jacket
as he holds her hand to lead her through a forest,
and you realize they love each other
more deeply than you could ever understand
and they always have
and always will
happiness
is
healthy babies being born,
healthy soldiers coming home
sadness
is
a newlywed
dying
on her honeymoon
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC