Death takes our deposits in installments
whatever you can afford
more that you can afford
$14 for cigarettes
death chuckles, stupid girl
She'll regret that in the morning
Hangovers, hesitant and polite
will lose patience
after fast food lunch
come ripping through and ruin you.
But you bought it,
just like those installments to death.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
White numbers descending
cold, black squares getting warmer
a cruel game of hide and seek
you hide, I find
something inside
some part of me I thought I'd left behind.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
It's a Saturday night in the snow
on a roof in Long Island
Smoke, seeping from my mouth
mists like curling fingers
Everything means nothing,
because the only thing I know,
is the potential for poison
in my mind
realization like a sharp cut,
a clean white paper cut
chokes me, and reassures me.
I will never die,
immortalized by my mother's love
The only thing that could **** me
is myself, angry self-destruction.
I am more dangerous than Bed-Stuy at 3am
or an empty subway car
My father knows
but my mother worries
unimportant consequences of boredom fuelled weekends.
I'm no danger to myself when her broken heart haunts my dreams.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
Tribal paint flickers
as illumination passes by
packed platforms of private souls
spilling into peripheral vision
Saturday nights
create fresh perspective
on unconscious thoughts
An unpulled can
of tired, bow-tied Spaniards
and white-clad partygoers
Tinney earphones
thrusting Brooklyn's finest
99 Problems aren't on my mind
but in my (un)willing ears
And I saw you on the street
42nd I'd say
I was filling my lungs
with the poison,
beautiful,
you showed me
You walked past me
just another stranger
you in 10 years time
They say everyone has a doppelganger in NYC
I haven't seen mine
but she's seen me
and Brooke saw her too,
rolled up Levis and a frown
you looked as beautiful as you always did
but clean of everything
you'd ever touched
or is yet to touch you
because nicky clouds
my thoughts lift me higher
I wanted to tell you that
I pray now
But I let you walk by
and disappear
leaving me with myself
coffee spilt from matches
got twisted and wouldn't light
I'm one handed,
crowded city but you're not here.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
"The Queen's upside down"
you bemuse
I smirk at at eye-less face
hung up, lips to the sky, hung
from a picture frame on your bedroom wall
Why do they all have multicoloured hair?
I don't.
Mine's red.
Fiery, jealous, and fairly insecure.
Friday morning blues
How is it possible to feel sad
on the happiest day of the week?
Saturday morning is where I want to be though
grimey and exhausted in your bed.
I sit outside because the empty skies make me closer to you
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Tenement cattlements
children trapped like rabbits
raised for the ***
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
Route 278 to East
retail road street sign
How much further is there to go
than Shore Road
East is home
Both, all before "that ***** with the flame"
and across the pond
behind those white cliffs
if home is where the heart is,
do I have two hearts?
Or a heart divided?
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
That weekend they said
"on the East Coast,
Nemo finds you"
The snow brought standstill
to NJ
delivered her 12 inches
she gave us both a synopsis
like **** gone wrong
But before she wrought self destruction
I was given you
to wake me up
if lying there with you would send me to hell
then take me to hell
via "please take me elsewhere"
and upstate,
to your uncle's infatuated dog.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
The ******* D train
leads straight to all of my desires
and all of my pain
both ways.
Manhattan-bound;
to mundanity and work.
and Coney Island-bound
(hurricane turned tropical storm
ripped out everything inside and made it raw)
to you.
The ******* D train
I ride you to the point of heart attack.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
I'll sit on trains,
home is behind me;
home is in front.
The place I sleep on weeknights
with working mornings looming
is the place I only survive.
But at weekends
I live for you,
I breathe with you,
and when I sleep
I dream with you
because home is with you
in those moments at least.
My own bed,
twice as big as yours,
the thought a luxury
on a 12am R train.
or cold N to R transfer platform,
but too much room is bad for the soul.
I'd rather have
the Monday morning bruises
and bed spring sized aches.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC