I was slowly floating farther from shore,
one look away and I was unmoored.
Every tear that I shed filled the sea more,
yet you were there, my buoy.
The riptide grabbed me and pulled me below.
No breathe in my lungs, the drowning was slow.
All my dreams, they were silenced and seemed long ago,
and there you were, my buoy.
You rowed me to land and brought me to life.
Though the ocean was vast and its name was Strife,
I had almost succumb to my wounds that were rife.
Oh, how you saved me my buoy.
He had leveled my mast, ripped the winds from my sails.
Tethered my anchor, in admist of a gale.
Let the storm batter my body and ignored my wails,
sent me adrift with no buoy.
But you silently chartered a map back home,
through serpents and sirens and knots of sea foam.
You slowly towed me out of the cyclone,
Adrift, but afloat with my buoy.
A shipwreck disguised as a Galleon,
ravaged and sinking with no freedom.
Caught in an eddy, chained to my reason.
Pulled out of the storm by a buoy.
And though the clouds have not cleared,
thunder still rumbles - the torrent still near.
I hold on to your ropes and wake as you steer.
My captain, my buoy, my boy.
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 2:19 PM UTC
Motorcycles and mistakes,
I was screaming "I love you"
through sound-proof glass
to a blind man.
Shimmering eyes, like
fishing
lures - you in.
Soft pink rose petals,
like damp peach skin
unfurling in the sun
showing smiles that
**** me. Dead.
Best men and bed frames
you kept your secrets and I kept
nothing.
Hundreds of miles away
I watch the stars, and trace a path
One. Two. Three.
Freckles in the sky.
Freckles on your skin.
I trace my fingers down
your left side and I wish to kiss
the stars. Again.
Can't you hear me screaming?
I LOVE YOU.
I love you.
Mar 30, 2023
Mar 30, 2023 at 8:33 AM UTC
I used to be
Wild
running barefoot over gravel,
galloping ponies, and bending
over to pick up shiny trinkets
And racoon's teeth.
These days I can still hike
mountains and climb trees.
Impromptu dance parties, and
jogging supermarket hallways
in an urgent rush.
But, most days
My hips ache like they are made of
old stone walls, my knees swell
sideways, and dainty ankles crack
in flats as if they were still strapped
to six inch heels.
Most days it hurts too much for brisk,
for swift, for haste.
Most days it hurts too much to roll out
of sheets and covers and let my soles
hit the floor. Rise.
The Devil no longer quakes at the sound of my foot prints, but revels
at the uneven drag of my limps.
The zig zag sway of crumbling hips and crunching cartilage. A ****** swagger subdued by a body
Too tired for its own hinges.
Most days.
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
Blanket forts and battle ships
I have brought the waves and riptides
And the bow and the port and the starboard
starburst, crash and writhe and fall apart
again, onto knees and floors and aching
joints. Through billowing pillowcases and
Fingers drawing light lines in linen
Ballet shoes and blood stained fibers.
Bodies outlined in chalk
colored covers and crime scenes.
Touch the tips of Suns,
Sins,
Sons,
Songs,
Sound.
Touch the tip
The tip
The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue,
the tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips.
Tongue twisters like tornados
in the Alley on the coast.
"Run away with me" she bled.
Said.
Blanket forts and battle ships
I have brought the waves
and the riptides
And the bow
and the port
and the starboard.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
Soft tousels of seasoning and
olive oiled
Skin, sweet like honey
Dew.
ripe and bursting.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Like fruit juices from
the mouths of Babes
Hot
In summer heat and
Sticky. Wet
with humidity and sweat.
Warm pools,
rippled with the amber
rays of sunset.
I want to run
my hands through damp
grass and leap over
Sprinklers and dance
until the Sun dies for the day.
Bleeding pomegranate and satsuma
And burying babies in the backyard.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
White socks and heavy breathing.
Like lungs of cinnamon and cigarettes.
I want nothing more
than to fix my little fingers on
word formulations and wine glasses
while you pinch my back in public
and make me choke on fake blood and Dunkin Donuts.
Spread the petals
and cut the stems
before submerging.
Wet.
Raw vegetables and sticky fruit bear
no resemblance to long car rides and comic book stores.
Ambient. I want to run
sunlight on my face, and stroll
through graves and breathe
in the scent of fresh laundry
and crime scenes.
I want to
drive past childhood trauma
and driveways, where you terrorized
the neighbors and built benches
and danced with Juggalos
in Jean Jackets and Fringe.
I want to weave around
roads in the dark and ****
the monsters as we see fit.
I want to.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
"All full up here!"
Windows packed to the brim
with goose down pillows and
little feathers floating from the cracks.
Those, suffocating, small-soft places
Warm like fresh dried laundry.
Sweet and wet and juicy. Mangos.
Hotel California smells like *** and linen.
There's painter's tape on the walls and
a choke coming on. Coming. Coming.
The red light gleams out of the darkness, neon
an alarm clock at 3 am.
No Vacancy.
I'm all full up here, stuffed and over
fed.
I'm all full up here.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 10:42 PM UTC
“I just wanted it to be Natural” she said.
The morning I stabbed my face
with an electric toothbrush.
Cheese fries and football
I sat giggling over tequila,
wondering why my heart
felt so at home
walking down empty hallways
echoing with murmurs and
waterfalls. Crammed onto
subway cars, and running fingers
over octopi and battle scars.
The words used to fall
out of my mouth like
teeth in a dream.
But they all stopped
until you.
Now they are pouring out
like a faucet.
And I haven't enough
buckets to catch them.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
We rode home
One rubber wheel after another
Drenched to the liver in rain and alcohol.
"Right family, wrong housemate"
I said as your calloused finger
Ran long the sharp edge of my shivering jaw.
Your hands, rough, from digging holes
And coming home at 5 am
With ****** and swollen knuckles
Are the hands, that wash my hair
And hold mine, step in step
And lift me onto kitchen counters
So that our lips can greet and meet
And pull apart, only to reunite
Like us lovers, who long to never be too
Far away from one another.
One block and half, around the corner
or one street and two buildings away
We are never too far apart.
"I'm never going to die"
which is why I only called the hospital and the jail
that night you went missing for twelve hours
And left the morgue out of it.
If you're never going to die
Then I am determined to live forever
So that I can wake up everyday
To the way you look at me
Even though I hate Ska music.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
All I wanted was to warm you,
rub your skin raw until you felt
the fevered blaze you've ignited
underneath mine, like ironing
out wrinkled flesh. I wanted
to restart your pilot light.
Watch the glowing embers
fall, like ashes from the cherry
of your cigarette, as the kindling
surges and cracks from the fricton
of flint and steel. I wanted you
to smolder, and smoke, and blaze
like the wild fires of the Serengeti.
I wanted to destroy you,
a beautiful brilliant bonfire.
Singing away pieces of you.
The tip of the incense.
The edges of of the coal.
The pieces that stop you from glowing,
radiating your brilliance.
I wanted to burn away the parts
of you that douse your intensity.
The charred black wood.
I wanted to burn away the parts
of you that are cindered.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC