i can’t care anymore because if i did i would crack.
exoskeleton.
so i don’t care.
i just endure and keep living.
it’s been a while. i don’t even have stripes anymore.
i think about the last time a lot.
all the time.
i think about that night when it rained
and i went out to the street
and didn’t look both ways before i crossed
on purpose.
and i remember waking up in the hospital
something like a thousand years ago
with a tube in my nose
and an iv in my wrist
and asking them to stop
touching me with their ***** hands
and no i don’t want this saline
can someone switch it to cyanide?
but they left me there without saying a word
and when the doctor came in i told him
just let me dry out
let me lay in street
and soak up the earth.
stop.
what day is it?
tuesday.
what happened?
you fainted.
in the street?
no. what street?
nevermind.
do your parents know about these scratches?
not these ones.
are you going to tell them?
i’m 18.
are you getting help?
i don’t need help.
do you want to talk about anything?
no.
and he looked at me
just looked at me
and took the iv out
and let me go.
i sometimes think he was god
cause he didn’t say anything to them
and he didn’t make me feel a thing.
not bad, not good.
he was as numb as i was.
and that’s the last time i woke up wishing i hadn’t.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:05 PM UTC
i find myself using this red string as an excuse, a muse, something to abuse. i used to pull it tight around my wrists and lose it in rosy verticals. it hurt until the pull choked and made it numb, numb until it wasn’t there and if it isn’t there than it isn’t a problem. it’s once in a while, it’s periodical. i snapped back lying on my floor without a pulse, stood up and threw away the rusty blades. sabbatical.
i found myself using this red string as an excuse, a muse, something to abuse. when you choose to bruise cause you have nothing left to lose. the soldier who made it out with everything intact except for what’s in his head, but that blood runs clear so they ignore it instead.
i almost used this red string as a noose. but now i’m playing double-dutch, catching fishing lines and throwing beams of orange and blues. sing me a song, porcelain. you taught me how to swim.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
freezing winters, leather jackets
basement floors, in the attic
coca cola, spanish rice
swallow truth, ***** lies.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
Was there a scarless time?
Warm night, spring of '94
Maybe it's all the drugs but
I've never seen such beautiful eyes before.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 9:56 AM UTC
just the way you looked at me that one time by the swing set,
do you remember?
i always go back to that moment
because that’s when we both landed on a page i swore we’d be on forever.
“what?”
“nothing.”
it’s funny how some things change
and others don’t.
after a while i’d be the one looking at you
but you wouldn’t tell. you won’t.
oh tell me, please, i want to know,
let me soak up your pain, let me feel it too.
i can heal you, i can fix you,
you have to know i’d never judge you.
“nothing.”
you looked at me that first time
and i swear you could see my soul
shining like a ball of light in your hands
like this was destined to make you whole.
that’s the first time you ever saw anyone
and the last time it would be
the way it was when i was yours
and you belonged to me.
“what?”
i wouldn’t have drowned you, love
i wouldn’t have extinguished a thing
but instead of what i gave, all i got was
“nothing.”
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
you were always being practical
you never did anything if it wasn't logical
always using the other bathroom instead of the one closest to the theatre
cause "there's always a line." so i waited for you by that giant cylinder
alone
i swear i would have walked right up to that ****** with you if it meant i didn't have to be
alone.
holding hands constantly cause it was my proof that you loved me
life line. whenever you let go that indigo line beneath my translucent skin would beg to run red.
but i grabbed back on just in time to save myself.
save myself.
from who?
you. you're *****
disgusting
sick
don't touch me
i don't know who else has felt it
you swore, you meant it
you cried
my father still wears sunglasses when he's in the same room as my mother
and his hands have long since dried up from the night michael died
boys don't cry.
swallowed my pride every time i swallowed you
bitter
even though i knew
better
in the back of my head
but giving head was better than you
losing your head and this is my fault
i was crazy
i saw a shrink. i was fabricating these things.
i saw this coming, i saw this coming, coming, ******* going
away.
three weeks ago you saw the ruins of my people
the souls of dead mayans embedded into the sagging stone steps
i heard them scream my name as you crept to the top
and with a sigh you took it in
majestic, isn't it?
never seen something so
real before
what? like it was some sort of rare sight?
why? you saw my ruins all the time
are you blind?
blind?
blind
blind i can't see
i can't see you anymore
i can't see you anymore.
i....i can't see you anymore but i feel you under my covers
your toes discovering the places my feet have danced
and your mocha frappuccino skin crashing over my snow white like a wave
your fingers brushing over my zebra stripes asking why, not knowing that those same fingers put them there
i'm not breaking
you can drop your hammer now
when i was 14
i walked home with the taste of cherries in my mouth and
i didn't eat for three days just so i could
be with you.
was it because i wouldn't forget my weekends
inside red cups and fake friends
or wouldn't snort lines and --
nevermind.
that only happened once or twice.
i saved you from that avalanche.
i promised i would try every time
and even when i was hacking away at my skin,
trying to find an answer from within
and i wiped the blood across the dresser
and drew pictures of you and her.
and her.
and her.
and him.
maybe it was your pain more than mine.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
it amazes me how
after all this time and
after all that’s been done
and undone,
i’m still standing
in the memory
of your too-soft hands
and butterfly kisses.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
i watched your hands a lot
to see what you would do with them.
i put myself out there,
begging with everything but my words.
we have this chemistry.
something about your skin against mine
was like man touching the sun without dying,
the stillness of a palm pressed against the surface of water
without breaking it.
can you feel it?
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 9:18 PM UTC
i laid on my right side
towards the window.
the way you always hated.
you laid behind me
and leaned your head up to the crook of my neck.
you kissed my shoulder
so lightly that i couldn't feel it
until now.
our song in the background
took us around the world
and you sang along in a way that
might not get a standing ovation
but made me so glad that i fell in love with you.
wait. they don't love you like i love you.
but all i heard was the voices in our heads saying
wait. they don't love you like i love you.
"wherever you go, i'm going with you
so don't leave me. please don't ever leave me.
i will surely get lost and i don't have a
map."
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
can you call me
just because i’m on your mind
and you’re wondering what i’m up to
how i’ve been doing
what books i’ve been reading
what movies i’ve been watching.
can you call me
just to hear me say “hi,
i miss you. when are you coming back?”
can you call me
to laugh
to cry
to be two people
who didn’t think they felt the same
and now don’t feel so alone.
can you call me
to tell me a story
to explain sci-fi movies
to debate because we’re good at it.
can you call me
to not say anything
to sleep to the sound of our breathing
to drift into the same memory
of all the times you used to
call me.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC