maybe we could go to the river?
you don't have to remember what it felt like--
sizzling against the rain.
today i am lonely,
ticking in time with a broken clock.
entering a state of breaking daylight
lingering in the middle of february,
festering,
until it burns.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
i want you
i want you
i want you
a delicacy--
a vision,
my epiphany.
you are starlight;
i am a fraction of the sun
and we
burn
burn
burn
in our own catastrophic collision
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
the ache of your eyelids,
heavy
from the weight of staring at the sun
filling up with a hint of blood.
they danced in my visions
those of my own hallucinations
where some days i felt so lonely
i dreamt so hard i felt fuzzy.
i saw what i wished i could see,
no longer behind a glass screen.
i could see double
and hold hands with myself
to try and keep my fear out.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
1; fear will not **** you, but it can eat you alive and make your insides rot.
2;you must allow yourself to thaw before you can melt--the cold was meant to allow you to feel your own heartbeat. don't ignore it
3; you are alive, even if just barely. make sure to lift your eyes to the sun to know that it still shines even amongst the dark.
4; breathe in with your nose and out through your mouth. you are a passageway for ancestral air and you should take that responsibility seriously.
5; your blood is not special, nor is it ordinary.
6; it is only by chance that you are here. a line of perfectly timed decisions birthed you--remember why you're here.
7; look at the mountains. they were here before you and will be long after you're gone. one day you will become the air that surrounds it.
8; you can lose your footing, but don't despair. sometimes you fall into a new path and it's like breathing in clarity you've never once known.
9; listen to what you're body tells you, it knows you better than you think.
10; when everything turns to dust remember you have the ability to start over. it cannot harm you to wipe the slate clean
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
tuscan summers,
wearing paisley and plaid,
barefoot amongst the wildflowers.
i would wear my wedding gown
in the backyard,
with our babies growing up on the front porch.
we had free range
underneath northern, starry skies--
taking trips to the mountains.
my books would be stacked
against the ivy
that crawled up the walls.
slow mornings,
crawling like molasses
out of the rickety screen door.
i would give up modernity
just to melt in the snow,
growing like weeds through
the cracks of your bone marrow.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
and we all fall down;
down
twisted tunnels of temptation,
in the depths of our own insanity.
it's easier to rip the seams of time
with our bare hands
when we see through
glassy eyes.
the revving engines of impatience,
hearing future echoes of ambulances--
mourning taste buds looking for
a drop,
to quench the thirst
of someone that can't seem to swallow enough.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
give me a call when you can:
when you get the chance
or when you wake up, when you have the time--
any one of those three.
9 o'clock,
channel number 57 on your T.V.,
don't call me back.
hey babe,
i just had a question.
no rush to answer it.
i need six letters...
gimme a call.
i want you to remember...
i figured out what i was going to ask you.
i know you're available,
i know you're available.
sorry.
the phones working again--
i'd like to throw it through the window
but i can't afford a new window.
i wish you'd pick up your phone,
if it's thunder and lightning,
stay out of the cellar.
please call me back.
call me when you get home--
i know you're available.
could you give me a call back?
bye bye.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
i would've stood barefoot in those woods
just to kiss you--
away from the pounding sounds
of mediocre music.
my heart beat like a finale
of fireworks
every time you smiled at me.
i've discovered something sweet,
like sugared gold against my lips,
tasting like summer and sun-ripened strawberries.
we would've hung out feet,
letting them dangle over the water's edge
as if there weren't whirlpools in my chest.
we would dance on carpeted floors
tripping over each other
trying to pretend we didn't mean to.
i envisioned the possibilities,
as my throat tried to swallow down the beginnings
of everything we could be.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:43 PM UTC
i.
i've fallen into a land
where my vision has shifted,
everything now looks evil and twisted
like the knots in my stomach.
the blood moons drips
onto my ribs--
caging my beating heart.
my soul is on fire,
but i think i'm dead--
dragging the weight of my broken bones
through a forest of hands
hell-bent on ripping out my throat.
doom lingered like dust,
a sky bruised purple
as the silence of bare limbs
slices into me like a blade.
we are boys and girls
in graveyards full of ghosts
with claw marks carved into old stone.
my chest is a catacomb,
a deserted place
trying to find something solid,
but the feeling never stays.
i can't be caged,
i can't be caged,
i can't be caged.
ii.
thumping like a rabbit's foot
hitting the center with an X,
an arrow in the heart.
branches snapped off
like her limbs,
dragging a knife, dripping in blood.
she cried oceans for the moon,
begging her to pull the tides.
a vague prophecy
with a river running red.
what's it from?
what's it from?
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
a river flows in both of us
with the same thrum of an erratic heartbeat,
steady hands that secretly shake
and heavy eyelids that feel like weights.
we grew up on the shelf--
decorum for the dollhouse
of broken dreams.
born and raised
we rise and fall
like balloons,
but we don't always get to reach the stars.
we kneel,
not in submission,
or for prayer,
but to remember where we come from
and where we'll go back to.
we crack and twist like dead trees
leaning from the weight.
diamonds, hiding,
in wait.
we are perennials--
we blossom and die;
forgetting we come alive again.
but when the sun has set and we lose our breath
we shiver amongst the silence,
only landmarks not found yet
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC