i.
your ribcage is not a ladder
for demons
to crawl their way up your body
ii.
your eyes aren’t black pits
in which everybody can see
every part of you reflected
iii.
remember that you are the only person
who can look in the mirror
and see you staring back,
iiii.
you cannot creep up on yourself
iiiii.
and just because blackberries
taste sweet
doesn’t mean they won’t rot
over time
iiiiii
It’s okay to feel like the roots
that anchor you
are mangled underground
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
pour every part of you
that you still have left
into the calamitous,
let it take everything
but the spider leg scars scattered
down your arms
and cracked glass smile
with the edges that cut
leave everything translucent behind
for the sake of familiarity with the dark
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
my body has become a scrap heap
there is a black hole
where my organs used to be
pulling everything in,
my hands are built to destroy
so I break my own bones,
sharpen my vocal chords
to play the tune of destruction
we crack our own mirrors
because we like the
distorted, smiling face
broken parts
remind me I’m not whole any more
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Sometimes at night, I think I can
hear the blood rushing around my veins
there is an ocean inside of my flesh
that erodes the rocks that form
from the sediment of my thoughts
I can hear the waves crashing
and churning,
put your ear to my chest and hear
what I keep inside me,
what is drowning me from the inside out
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
I bleed like a villain who
has clawed redemption
from his veils with his fingernails,
the blood of forgiveness
purged from a sinner,
we gouge at broken hearts
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC