the old gods here lay
in beds of clay and marble
jupiter fallen
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
hello, executioner
hello starlight, hello pillager
make me a village
give me pitchforks give me haybales i will give you a show
brand new, glitter stuck shiny on the sign out front crying havoc
crying
"hello executioner lead me to the
slaughter"
you menace
isnt this a sight?
twenty-five love letters to a guillotine and a girl you killed
seven hundred years ago
advertising strategy number thirty-four: **** your neighbor
**** everyone you know and then **** yourself
are you jealous? are your eyes open?
i can hear your nose bleeding from here
(twenty-five love letters addressed to a dead person
oh god oh god,
can your hear the water rush)
the disposal is running in the sink
"what are you a robot"
stop talking about anarchy this isnt a drug bust
two white balloons and blood on the ceiling
haven't you ever seen a dead body before?
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
I can say my ABC’s
(As long as you hum the tune)
I can pick out my own clothes
I can count to one-thous-and
I can scrape my knee
And only cry a little
Hey, look at me, riding my bike
With no extra wheels;
I can go faster than sound, faster
Than I can think, faster than
I can realize,
This isn’t a good idea
I can sit silent
I can bite my tongue until it bleeds
I can talk to much
(Or not at all)
I can go to school every day
Feeling like going too fast down a tall hill
Faster, faster than
My legs can carry my body
Sliding and
Falling
Staring at my own ****** knee--
I guess we ran out of band-aids
I can see the strings behind the system
And I can cut them, too
Veins behind bible-paper skin
I can swear to God
(Or swear at God)
I can feel the ground beneath
My feet shifting, tidal pools
From sadness to hate
My best friend says, just us against the world
And I’m not sure if I agree, but
I can always nod along.
I can be a king
For about fifty minutes on a
Tuesday morning
I can control your whole world
(Never was any good with my own)
I can find the skeletons in your closet
And the guns there, too
Hey, look at me
Front page again, promising
New insights to my
Motivations, manifesto
I can reduce your whole life
To your death
I can
I can
I can
I swear to God I can--
I can say my ABC’s
(As long as you hum the tune)
I can pick out my own clothes
I can count to one-thous-and.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
bird bones, dig me a
grave, make me a treasure chest
where my lungs ought to be
and hide away all your
secrets, falling overhead
leaves in the fall;
you have no idea, i tell you,
what's underfoot--
hollow earth, hollow skull.
you say,
don't smile like that.
you're making me nervous.
****** mutt, throw trash through
the television, screaming
sports fanatics. never watched
this game before. unfamiliar rules.
it's all in the uniforms, bird bones.
don't let them
freak you out, peaked blue caps
oily lips confirm:
"investigation underway."
turn that noise down.
i'll build us a house underwater
if you open the door,
don't blame me when you drown.
parka with
the hood up;
can't stay away from the trees,
even in this weather,
always outdoors, always checking,
to be sure.
don't look at me like that, bird bones.
haven't you ever seen a dead body before?
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
stuck my head
underwater
but forgot
to drown
i was sad
you were sad
but it didn't
cancel out
laid down
closed my eyes
but forgot
to sleep
and one day
you'll be happy
but not because
of me
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
your eyes are not oceans
and you are not a natural disaster
you are manmade and you will topple
and i will be the one to topple you
because you are a literal bag of human ****
and if you think that telling me
that i deserve ****
will impress your fellow man friends,
you had better watch the **** out
because i am coming for you with a taser
and a buzzsaw
your mra t-shirts can't help you now,
****
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
i am sexually attracted to pencils.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
there's a gap between your front teeth and between
your visions and plans and reality
holes in your personality, waiting to be filled up
and i wonder
what will become of you?
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
why the **** would you
even pretend to care
after all of that?
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
when they pull up to the stop
i am the last to get on
i sit in the front, with a good view
of the street
(i know the route by heart)
turn left at ryan road and
pass the old run down convenience store
broken and unwanted, like,
a mole on a hand-model's finger,
or perhaps me;
did you know that they all wave at each other?
the bus drivers, i mean
when they pass on the road
nothing meaningful, just
a quick wave of the hand
*i see you there
doing what i'm doing
hey, buddy, why'd we pick this job
anyway?*
there's a kid behind me who always kicks my chair
and the blonde girl on my left
glares at me from above
a paper-back romance novel
i try to smile, but
i don't think she wants to be my friend
(she laughed at me last year
from across the plastic cafeteria floor
and called me a witch
if i recall correctly)
when we pull up to the school
i pull out my phone
and pretend to be texting
(i don't even have a plan;
the phone's for music)
so that they all get out before me;
once i pushed ahead of a boy
in a snapback and sweatpants
and i think that's just about the bravest thing
someone from the front of the school bus
has ever done.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC