saved by the bells
ringing in your head
purer than sea shells
and colder than what’s washed up dead
the shores of my mind
things get lost
littered,
thoughts are tossed out and my feelings are left fleeting and bitter
cherishing the
quiet times or the
quiet nights and the memories of a
bright sunrise
the moment before i’m saved by
nothing. no one.
the anxiety - not clinical,
but so close to it my doctors seem cynical
like a foreign generation,
watched addictions turn into medications
and it’s all in front of me
things laid out, what’s happened and what’s meant to be
when your conscious is a melting *** of past, present, and future
it’s hard to find time to just be you for
a minute
an hour
a ****** up wrist and ice cold showers
my therapist says it’s cause i need something to ground me
but i’ve spent weeks in dungeons and i’ve seen the pinnacle of heaven
and i still miss my dad when i go to 7-11
the worst thing is
residual bleeding
the kind that makes you antisocial
yet people pleasing and
don’t forget how you can’t say no
dissatisfied and my child mind plays the pantomime
kind and selfish, can you see it in my brown eyes?
the eyes that fear the very thing they hold, my soul
is weak and can’t find what it needs, only in love and inevitably disappointing the ones i love for no reason
tears for no reason
starving for what i should’ve eaten a long time ago,
brains are big bullies, bullying my body i’ve done so many sit ups my ribs got shoddy
and
every season is seasonal depression
cause i’m never good enough,
tell me i am and tell me again
tell me i am and tell me again,
then one day my mind and i might make friends
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 2:25 AM UTC
feeling at home
do you feel at home?
dig up your bones
and scatter them around me
feel the sunrise through clarity
in yourself
in the words that come out of your mouth,
they’re powerful and tantalizing,
like the thrill of drinking and driving
still thriving
on the high life
of just feeling at home
it’s more than familiar faces
it’s more than four walls and a door
it’s the freckles speckled on you
everywhere
freckles that reach face to floor
fleeting
home is a siren
home is ***** in a glass
home is absence in your presence and a
fathers lack of conscience
failing one step forward
faking it two steps back with billy joel in your head
taking your pain
and buying it from the liquor store
but the hardest part is
bringing it home
home to the people you love
their faces match constellations and **** the zodiac if
i don’t see you again
i’ll praise the star signs, the ones in your eyes and
i’m getting ahead of myself -
where did all the bones go
i gave one here and
left one there
stringing myself together with letters
from dentist office magazines
and scraps of
dopamine
and sometimes not even that
it’s something that eats me up inside when i’m away from home
store bought is fine
don’t be gone too long
i’ll be missing you by half past nine
i don’t think you’re coming home
hold my hand, what’s yours is mine
i’m still waiting in the doorway
i’m still nine
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 2:24 AM UTC
Publishing a Woman
they don’t write books
about women like
me
but we get all the looks
the haves, the have nots
those here for the taking
here’s what they took
a smile, maybe?
a tear
that’s too senile, an old
fairytale in your ear
i hope you won’t like what you’re about to hear
they don’t write books about women like me
they write books about women
women who storm but don’t storm in
women who are ripped from heaven not
torn by sin
some women
lose
you’ll hear about them in the news
but they only write books
about women who win
what is winning?
i don’t know there’s no answer
but they write books about women who conquer
women who tower
and occasionally, the ones who cower
when you read those stories you
are grateful for the lines that make you bow down to her
to her strength,
to the lengths she’d go to the great lengths
the way you feel reading that line about her
fangs
in the eye of your mind
does her shadow far away hang
that’s the funny thing about language though
does it feel, or does it show
words can hurt but sting
more when they’re written
there’s no place for women like
me
but if you want a story
a story they’ll read
the lines have to be re written
time to fit your *** into those jeans
find a publisher to make you fit in
youre something new
but the quota only takes a few
don’t quote me but
i need a character they want to *****
so just act a little more damsel
but only fake the distress
i don’t want someone who causes unrest
that boyfriend didn’t pass the test
but here is something, a little less mess.
cause darling, you’re so blue
they don’t write books about women like you, it’s sad but it’s true
i don’t know what you want me to do,
it won’t sell, my publicist will probably go straight to
hell anyway
but
you’ll find your way
just not here not
in my office today
i’m not a character
doesn’t fit the public’s eye
feel like stone strong but
you’ll just get belittled and
it’s not like we don’t want women in the spotlight
of that hospital they sent you to, i think it’s too dark to real
realize don’t you realize women like me like her like your mother are real
ly pushing it here, there not a space for that kind of dark and drear
i could almost become that woman you want right here
right now
be a heroine a
bloodthirsty villain
something you could sink our teeth into
if first i don’t surrender myself to you
that’s what you wanted to hear
but here’s something from the women like me
a word is more powerful unwritten
and the word woman is loud and clear
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC
Naked Games
naked games
take my clothes off
don’t be ashamed
you love your naked games
my chest hangs into your eyes
on a screen where i
play at fame
running with scissors
thats part two
it takes two to tango
to blades ripping
one for me
and one for you
it takes two to play the naked game
chase
race
and my face
up against the wall
you think you’ve won
standing so tall
now take your scissors
it’s always so fun
you’ve gotten you chance to run
but now you’re naked
arms out like a cross
scissors stencil something sacred
on my neck
it’s my turn i’ll give you a pocket on your chest
be careful
don’t cut too deep
if our blood will mix
i’ll miss what i could kiss
when we run with scissors
carving clothes without our knickers
if our blood should mix
two players from the naked game i’d miss
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 5:03 AM UTC
Persistence
sometimes i feel like falling down
but only. cause standing up is boring
why am i storming though a season where leaves fall
cause that's norming
bonds break but tears freeze and that's how crystals keep forming
i should test myself
see what i can find
in the life of my time
or at least what i've been prescribed
to put it honestly to wish is to dream
and that is to put it modestly
but to live is to rip your skin from your body
because comfort is a sad commodity
a place holder for
what you're meant to be
but that's placing your bets on destiny
and that's still a dangerous place to me
reach for the stars or
at least set your eyes on a planet that's not ours
maybe mars
that was predictable but it rhymed so
sorry if i'm presenting my ideas as cliche
or despicable
at least i can decipher what i know is unforgivable
a prison is a person who's microsoft-able
but that's just my angst creating a villain
vaporizing vixens are vain to the core
but the haze of pain is still in
only cause that's what they tell me when i want more
more than a ******* juul i'm
too cool to care about my health
cause the moment is now right, until i have to worry about wealth
for my family or my chemical dependence it makes me wince i mean i just want health insurance sorry i'm not used to the governments idea of
assurance
but jesus christ
one nation under god
kids get shot for
mowing the ******* lawn
what kind of world are we living in
**** is fueling the patriarchy for the worser
if a fertilized egg is a candidate for ******
every single guy walks a around wearing ******* or kappa
donald trump doesn’t drink
pops percocets and ******
i'm swimming and drowning and i need assistance
but it begs the question of thoughts that fester in an enemy
i'm sorry, i know that's not fitting my opinion of the human existence
but why am i creating an enemy when all my life has promised me is the empty shell of persistence
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
you danced in endless circles
i heard you screaming your Santa-Monica
dream
a tainted vision
your birds soaring high
lucid and numbing, do i
really want to know
and you wanted a runners high
but instead you got
****
it's cold, and your birds are bland,
sometimes mom, the sky is a no-mans land
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 4:56 AM UTC
Chance
take a chance with me i
do you see what i see
cause i see stars and lights in your eyes
brighter than cars or heavens sunrise
so take a chance with me
rip all the pages, **** the book
read between the lines
well make a bible of all the eyes and looks
cause we’ll make it
they said don’t fake it
but this is my chance so i’m gonna take it
just, think about it like a coin
flip a coin
heads tails
you succeed or you could fail and
my dad was weak and he was frail
so i don’t have many coins to entail
just this one.
i’ll take my chances
i’ll be done
but if it’s heads i hope it’s yours i face
and if it’s tails i’m in
for a lifelong race
but life is short
so take a chance
too short not to dance
like no ones watching
cause i’m not stopping
take a chance
cause if you fail the sun will still advance
my heart will still prance i
think you know what i mean
what we see? do you see what i see
chances are it’s silly to watch you sleep but
darling you would too if you saw what i see
they don’t even see
their heads are empty
your heart might break
and it won’t be so easy
but i like a challenge
no stranger to pain
another chance i’m willing to take
chances are you’re the only one
my heart is locked and won’t come undone
take a chance it might be fun
it might be not be your only one
but i have my eyes set on the sun
i’m gonna make it
this is my chance, and like hell im gonna take it
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 4:45 AM UTC
Cupid’s Cartel
drugs are a dangerous business.
but there’s this one called love
it’s like high schoolers who do heroine
they’re in with what’s above
in love that is
with i don’t know their dealer?
or the way his hands make blood clot
no, i think it’s how their bank account is clearer
finally reaching a point where
their heart stops
me on the way to he street
hey sugar
i’ve got something for you to keep
he handed me his own
and our fingers intertwined
down a long road
festered with rest stops and moonshine
love makes you do crazy things.
that’s what they all say
but this kind of love
it just makes you pay
not money
you can’t put a price on my heart
that bird was a ******* dummy
but it makes you pay with
each and every day
with eyes glazed
you’re not even phased
you’re dazed and confused
for days i was used
but it’s not my fault i was using
i was used to proving it too,
being in love
the sun shining down and
the heavens shaking away my sins
and
it was okay, take my hand
i was in love and i’d found my brand
maybe i should see a doctor
all addicts become abusers
but he’d swoop me and he’d sway me,
what an impostor,
all addicts become abusers
but if it is love in fact, i’ll be a lifetime user
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 2:17 AM UTC
The Power of a Cheekbone
the one that got away. i used to think sayings like this were silly, but everyone is in their own right. he was beautiful. i can say that. others say it too, often, or maybe only think it in secret. but he was mine, i was his and we were lost in a dream that we could only see by pushing forward, one bus stop at a time, one venti ice water less ice, one hickey, one stop at the vending machine. one breakup, one kiss, one i love you at a time. we lived something others envied, but i was blind to jealousy, i could never understand why. why would someone want to take a leap of faith into nothing but the dream of something different, hopefully not dark but no promise of light either- a road trip, abandon their family, break hearts for no good reason other than wanton hope and pure adrenaline. not the kind where you are in danger, but the kind that makes you feel alive.
we lived lovely, alone but together. we were at the lowest point but riding a newfound, begging, irrevocable high. there is nothing like having no one but your other half. you meld together, meld hearts, meld lips, tears and toil too. there is nothing like the company of the loneliness you gave everything for.
the world was ours. not in the sense that it revolved around us, but that time has stopped. existence was nothing, but our essence, fused together like a star. imminent passion and renegade love, we were in the middle of something catastrophic, but we loved it. we ate our own tears for breakfast, had laughs for lunch, *** for dinner, and a curse to our parents for dessert. it was a cycle, a vicious one, but beautiful and pristine all the same.
the one thing i can say about my first love, my teacher, my best friend, my darling and my grave, the pure joy was enough to come back looking for pain, and the beauty of a broken heart, it was my pleasure just to look at you, to know by memory, like the alphabet or how to pronounce the name Kulusich - The way my hand fit into the curve of his cheekbones like a mortar and pestle rough, hardened like stone, but softer and more natural like a river over time.. the hurting is enough to end all ends, but the memory is what keeps me alive.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
making pancakes tonight.
i know it’s not morning
but it kind of feels right.
i’m making pancakes tonight
do you want some
i know you want some
maybe if i smile i could
get some
you win some
and you lose some
as he always used to say
but the smell of pancakes
eyes melting like butter
you win some
and you lose some
but you can’t help but want some
i’m making pancakes tonight.
come over, it’s like old times
dry eyes
and syrups no way to start a fight.
i’ll cook
you clean
let’s enjoy some pancakes
no kitchen brights just butter
moonlight
cause they’re fluffy
they’re sweet
make you weak in the knees
they hit the spot just right
so come on.
my treat
like i said
i’ll cook
you clean
the griddle, the ladle,
like your eyes shine and gleam
just put it in the sink
time flies by
stomachs filled and riding a high
let it soak
cause we’re eating pancakes tonight
feast your eyes
cause it’s not so attractive to have eyes bigger than your stomach
the memory of breakfast
wanton, happy , an image redacted
you win some
and you lose some
and you can’t help but get some
pancakes? pancakes ?
i know you want some
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC