caverns cloaked in colors combined
ambling to destinations of the same sky
I got lost in the dirt, the music of your hug,
the smell of narcissus, the entitled beauty of flowers.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
The gem filled caves your eyelids hid
made me a miner to seek treasure inside.
Value, gleam, pallets of rarity, the soft brown earth
California weather- where everything grows.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
i walk over the lawn
pushing my hips up and down
to appear more confident and womanlike
in this patriarchal dungeon
where lads become bros who are
taught to approve what I am saying in order for me to
continue and speak.
i have a family who holds a canopy
of love upon me
how dare you only acknowledge my flesh
and these pathetic letters when
there is magic in my hands, wisdom lying in my mouth, and an unblemished soul that has only been tainted by boys like you.
pray you stay away from me so that
your revolting desires are not revealed unto
yourself.
i am saddened by you
for how will I ever find a man when you are the representative
who has taught me that it is necessary to shield myself.
i am saddened that i will never gain your approval
i am saddened that i now live in a world
where women like me think they
need it
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
It was one of those times, for me.
The music of my soul was still going.
Everything else eased its way in.
But I turned a blind-ear.
Music used to be so rare.
Hiding behind sofa cushions.
If could see at my art through a mirror,
I would be a child.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
oh what a burden
to make someone feel so much
when you are just trying to breathe
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:17 AM UTC
i want you to tell me
that my hair smells like
drug store shampoo
that was bought with a coupon
that i ripped with my nibbled fingernails
from the sunday paper
i will ask you to ask him
because he won’t respond to me
i enjoy making people say what i want them to say
my sentences inspire people to lie
when i can’t decide to use a pencil
or a pen
i hold them both in my hands
to decide if i’m willing to erase what
i believe in
i like book ends
no spaces in between lies
less than a 10pt
there are no blanks to put my own words in
i drink so much coffee
to fill in the filter
that i do not have
a girl once told me that if i paint my nails
i will have bad luck
so i never paint my nails
i wish i didn’t fold all the laundry you gave me
i should have just folded my own
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
i am pushing you away
i am doing it.
i beckon you closer so
you can leave me
because im used to it
i'm used to scaring
so i remain safe.
because if you stay
i will ruin you
and make you a
boiling mug of dried out
hibiscus leaves that once glowed with the pink of ignorance
and will burn your throat and make it hurt to swallow so you believe that you are sick and you must begin to ease the shallowness of our framed existence.
in the wheelbarrow of neurons
its my love that refuses to grease the wheels
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
i am giving my heart
S P A C E
because what returns
will always have to
L E A V E
one must leave
in order to grow
love like fall must
**** the spring
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
a dream poem:
a blink for a few is what I desire
to blackout the curtains for my aches
and chalkboard erase my mistakes
the sun is a cleanser
that glows through my eyes
emanating love despite cut ties
when I close, and go to where is old
we can unwrap: and begin to finally unfold.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
taking shots of herbal tea
to substantially swallow the floodgates of my thoughts
it had been six months with no word
and i hadn't spoken either
my mouth was a hotel for ghosts
that would float up to my brain and create a resort
the memories of you playing on a 36mm reel over and over
until throwing up wouldn't even purge you out of my system.
finally using your brain you spoke up
and the ghosts vanished.
you are quite the intuitive ghost.
stab my brain with the hope you will be back
the pain increases as responses grow weary,
and your fear swallows your intuitive mind once again.
its a shame to know what you want, ghost:
and never actually go for it.
and that is the true battle.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC