6/23
The pills don't stop the stream of poems flowing through my head
However I can't feel how the shapes of the phrases fit together now
I think the medicine has ****** the magic out of the alphabet
9/8
House ***** doesn't cut it anymore
I'm sitting at my favorite bar starving for human interaction
If everyone can go to sleep without help why can't I?
I can't stop panicking
I have two pills left
13 days before there is a reason to stay up late
They say history repeats itself
I am becoming identical to the child I was before I scrubbed my veins out
10/04
"The doctor wouldn't give me ambien."
"Again?"
"Yeah, I'll trade you my Kolonopin for your Ambien"
"Deal."
An exchange of words between my mother and I.
11/13
My weakness came in the form of an oval shaped pill which put me to sleep
But not the ones the doctor tried to give me
I have started to notice how bad it is by the pouress wood of the bedside table being stained with ivory dust
Up the sinuses
Swallow some Xanax while you're at it
I haven't washed dishes in a week
****
I haven't eaten either
1/31
I left powder on the bathroom counter of my parents house
I hadn't realized I was addicted to you, and the sleeping pills where my crutch when you couldn't give me what I wanted
I knew I'd need something familiar when you left me
At least I didn't lose sleep sleep sleep over you
2/3
I asked for help
I'm fine
I'll be fine
I haven't really slept in years anyway
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
I've made this drive 500 times
Often distracted by the finished work day
Or the overcast that's headed towards Beverly Road.
I'm trying to make it over the tracks again before the next cargo shipment passes through.
Two things are absolute
You will be there eagerly awaiting to plant a vodka-drenched peck on my lips
And I will down a bottle of wine within the next two hours.
It never was about the yellow house
Or the crying puppy in the back yard
or the way the wood floors creaked when you woke up early and snuck out for your first cigarette.
Hurricane season came and went, still Beverly Road remained untainted
But the passion that pumped through me got carried away in all that rain and yellow was no longer my favorite color.
After all, you can't make a house a home alone.
If I had realized how badly the wind had beaten you down, maybe I'd still be sitting in the garage attempting to disguise our discontent
I went back Once
I was trying to sow myself together when I realized for the first time sorry isn't always enough
And there are words I can't cram back into my mouth.
I admit I can turn into a tropical storm.
I picture you peacefully falling asleep to my thunder
I forget how badly I wanted to set the bedposts on fire with lightning strikes.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
It is a Friday night and we're driving to your house with the windows down.
the ashes from the cigarette im pretending to smoke are flying into my eyes like this Marlboro light knows it's succeeded and I'm inhaling because it reminds me of men's mouths.
Your ****** stereo system is playing our favorite song and I'm watching the wind ripple through your hair as if your curls are party streamers, you've always projected an image of unrelenting freedom I can't remember ever seeing from another animal.
Maybe it's because you know how it feels to wake up in wire cages, and then discover one Tuesday you have wings.
I grab your hand because I'm half convinced I manifested you in my brain one night when I needed someone like you. There's still a chance you'll disappear .
"You know you're my ride or die"
The first girl who spoke those words to me said it while we both had baby blue smoke swimming around in our blood stream.
When I told her I loved her I meant it
But I left her in the wind to fend for herself while I went and washed out the purple in my veins with suboxine and a boy.
I can't find her now.
I look at you with only red blood pumping these days, a dash of ethanol but we all have our vices.
And I try to solemnly silently swear to you through the sweat on my palms that I won't leave you alone .
And this time I mean it.
I'm sorry I'm hard on you and sometimes I half listen and expect you to fully fix me
But I've never been unjudged and overly loved by someone who doesn't want me tangible.
I'm still trying to find space to put all of who you are to me in safe dry places.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
I don't know how to write anymore because the days are no longer running together and the only drug I need to sleep is the heat radiating from your body.
Today I feel you marvel in everything I am, and overlook all the things I could never be. For these are the things that never cross my mind when I push my lips against yours.
If this is how one wears love, have I ever been blanketed with the real deal before?
Or have I just been caught in the crossfire of half assed" I love you's" and " please forgive me's" my entire life?
I never knew the blink of a mans eyes could flicker with such an unmistakable spark of hope, it's like glass never slipped out of my needle fingertips in the first place.
What a gift I have been given to watch you walk around barefoot unfearful of the sharp pieces of me that aren't so pretty.
What an anomaly it is to be unapologetically real with someone as graceful as you.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
When you've been asleep for so long how do you decipher between reality and figments of your subconsciousness?
I wanted to ask the man with the eyes clearer than the intercostal, but every time his hand found the small of my back I too found myself falling in the trance.
You're a sleep walker, you know.
I wish I had such a luxury, the ability to close my eyes and not dwell on the sins I'll never deem forgivable
I think fear is another name for love and you're not scared of a thing.
the trenches you've dug between your skull and your brain are only there because you'd prefer to keep me at arm's length.
I'll run my fingers over the scar on your head and look for other ways in, because you'll never give me the keys to the front door.
The holes around us are filling with salt water you carried back from the ocean last night while I was dreaming you were drowning me.
I can still feel the sea burning my eyes. I want to go back, but you fall in love with places and My love affair is with panic. I'm not convinced you have room in your home for someone like me.
I could be a human truss, but we're both too stubborn to admit when we're in need. I'd rather be broken, than feel whole and watch you break under my weight.
Some say love should be effortless
but as obscene as it sounds, Pat Benatar may have been on the right track with "Love is a Battlefield"
Because loving you was ******
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 9:41 AM UTC
I read books now
And drink your kind of beer
And smoke your kind of cigarettes
Somehow that brings me closer to where you are
But it dawns on me you never asked to read my poetry
I remember pressing my lips against yours in the communal laundry room and whispering into your mouth I had been immortalizing the color of your eyes with a pen
But you never asked
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
Today I threw out the five orchids I let die a year ago.
I've been waiting to see a sign of rebirth from the flowers but I often forget the key to every life form thriving is nurture.
Not to be mistaken for doe like eyes and low voices whispering "you're so pretty."
Funny thing is even I didn't notice I lost my step with the dancing ladies and withered away.
His words always flowed like water
And his touch always wet from the condensation on his beer can
Still I woke up parched every morning.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
Six years ago my nightmares were derived from sounds of bones breaking
And the slamming doors of daddy leaving
Sometimes I don't recognize my reflection in windows
Am I the glass or am I beyond the glass?
I've been reborn into this world I created of revolving doors and half empty glasses
Maybe this is how growing up feels
But you'd think my mother would have warned me about the blanket of darkness surrounding us even when this unrelenting Florida sun is out in full force
When I wake up, I often feel like a china doll
Porcelain and pretty to look at, too fragile to touch
Sitting inches from the edge of the bed gazing down towards my demise
It always takes a good hour of hitting the snooze button for me to realize I'm still alive and the cocktail of benzos and wine from the night before haven't sent me into a colorless limbo
Today is a new day but I am still faced with decade old demons
Still in search of some sense of self
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC