no tree to adorn with glitter and gold
no christmas stories will be told
no stockings hung over the fireplace
no garland strung up on the staircase
fewer faces to greet at the door
fewer *** and eggnogs to pour
christmas music won't be playing
family members won't be staying
this year, christmas will be blue
because this year, we won't have you

I want to peel back your plastic wrapper,
bite into your hard candy coating
and get a taste of your gooey center

i want to feel the rush,
the tingly fireworks under my skin,
the buzzing sparks of awakeness.
i want to feel the bubble burst in my chest.
i want to dance. i want to ride the music
like a rollercoaster,
i want the thrill of the next drop,
the next wave of euphoria
pulsating through my veins
like electric current conducted by
all the goings-on around me
i want your energy and my energy
mixing together in the air around us
like a glittery galaxy milky-way aura,
a sanctuary of our own vibrations,
a place where our hearts are huge
and our egos small.
a place of peace, of love,
of unity, and respect,
of higher elevations
and acceptance for all.
can't we just do drugs?

do you ever dream of me
when the moon is high and
you're fast asleep?
and in these dreams of me you dream
are you running towards me?
or running away?

are you
happy in your dreams of me?
do you dream of what once was or
how things ought to be?
are you smiling when you dream of me?

is the dream-version of me nice to you
when you meet her in your dreams?
does she make your heart swell and
does she tell you pretty things?

or is she really mean and awful?

do you even dream of me at all?

like the flick of a light switch,
he can turn me on, but
he lingers with the dimmer,
keeping my
bulb warm,
heating me up
and then
warming me down
with just the tips
of his fingers
setting the
mood
just
right
and i love how
he makes me feel
electric.

lips like a ripe plum, so juicy.
my mouth waters, begging
for a taste.
i would **** the nectar
from your skin.
each sip would be sweeter
than the one before.
i would drink you like fruit juice,
and i wouldn't stop

until the sugar
made my teeth rot.

I.

Blurry green and brown shapes rush past me
at the speed of light, i spin around and around.
Trees, people and playground equipment blend together
in a whirlwind, i am spinning around so fast
i think i might die.
My small hands grip the edges of the black rubber tire.
i squeeze my eyes shut,
thinking that might make the dizziness stop
but it only makes it worse. Pain enters
my fingertips - my arms are ripping apart.
Still, i hold on. i’m afraid
that if i let go my head will hit the ground and my neck will snap.
i hear my brother’s laughter swirling around my head.
i want to beg him to stop the spinning
but i know that crying and pleading only makes this game last longer.
When i asked him to play this wasn’t what i had in mind.
So i wait quietly.
This will all be over soon.

II.

Darkness is all around me.
The one tiny hole near the lid of the toy box allows
only a sliver of light into my little wooden prison.
i run my fingers along the dark walls
beside me and all around me, feeling
the grains of the unfinished wood.
My finger catches a sliver and it stings
but i don’t cry because
crying only makes this game last longer.
The old toy box groans under the weight of my brother’s body.
i can hear his fingers mashing the Nintendo controller
and his feet kicking against the outside of the box.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
If i wait quietly, he will eventually get bored
and this will all be over soon.

III.

The grass is wet and yucky underneath
my body, cold and slimy.
Rows of houses watch in judgement
against black suburban sky,
their inhabitants fast asleep and safe in their beds
while i lie here with this strange man’s ***** hands around my neck.
How did i get here? A few too many rounds
of *****-fueled drinking games,
each sip burning up a piece of my awareness
until all i can comprehend is his heavy body
on top of me, his cold, unfamiliar eyes.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
Each time my ragdoll head smacks the ground,
the sickening sound bounces between my eardrums.
He could easily ragdoll me to death.
i pray someone will step outside and end this game,
but screaming will only make him panic,
and wild animals can be unpredictable when cornered.
So i wait quietly and hope
this will all be over soon.

eyes bloodshot and burning red
like two swollen bags full of
acid tears staining my cheeks with
hot red blotches of fiery
guilt clouding my head like dense
fog settling into the room
between us is a thousand miles.

my eyes feel like bee-stings,
my heart a stone.
with my dead-tree body, withering and
wilting, i lay my heavy head and plead
for sleep to carry me away.

you already dozed off hours ago
like a sleeping child worn out
from throwing his toys 'round the sandbox.
your side of the bed is warm, soft and dry,
while the cold rain still pours over mine.
i guess tonight i'm sleeping in a storm.

you bent me over the pool table when I was fourteen. I don’t know why
the family kept skirting around the issue, resting a turkey atop
the dainty white tablecloth skirt that we hid under
when we were kids and when we weren’t
sure if the hole in the living room window was made from a bullet...

or just dirt.

light me up, like a candle
i will drip for you tonight
touch me with your burning skin
i will melt in your hands tonight
ignite me with your mind
i'll be a puddle in your lap tonight

as the daylight breaks through
the stained-glass window and
rests upon your sleeping face
like a blanket

i like to look at you this way
when dream world is still open for you,
your day hasn't yet started and you're
untouched by the rest of the world.
just dreaming.

i feel like this is perfection.

your soft hair, your eyelashes,
the gentle rise and fall of your chest,
those lips that are (somehow) even more
perfect than they were the night before.
the lips are my favorite.

i think about kissing you, tasting you,
folding myself into your tattoos,
lifting you gently back into your body
so I can once again be with you

but I linger in this moment a little
longer. savor it a little more. allowing
you more time in the mystical purity
of your dreams. allowing myself to bask
in this budding garden a little more.  

and I hope that in your dreams you are a king.

the doves that fly from my mouth
are simply crows painted white, plastered
with the lies i tell myself every day.

there's no master magician
behind the curtain - just a person.
a hypocritical, delusional illusion of a person.

and these sparkles that you see,
nothing but smoke-bombs and trickery,
a costume to hide the reality that i'm a sham.

i must have been a hero
in my previous life.
i must have battled evil,
had courage in the face of strife.

maybe i was a saint,
and blessed everyone in sight,
took care of those who lost their way,
showed them how to find the light.

or maybe i was a freedom fighter,
a peaceful one, of course.
maybe I died helping people escape
from war and military force.

i must have done something great
to deserve what i have now.
i've been blessed with your love, angel,
and i'm not sure why or how.

people like you only come along
every thousand years at best,
but the universe put you in my arms
so i must have been a hero, i guess.

i will never get to
taste the sweetness
of your lips - their soft
firmness. the hunger of them.

i'll never feel your lips
eagerly wanting my lips,
the way they would part
to welcome me inside.

i'll never surround your lips
with every fibre of every ounce
of all the good and bad that i carry
in my heart and soul, mind and body
for one moment, all of it channeled
into one passionate kiss

no. i never will.

i've been picking at this thread
that has come loose in my mind.
my fingers keep reaching for it, compulsively
pulling it further and further.
this hole is getting bigger and
all my edges are frayed
but i keep ******* with it
until all the thread is unraveled in my hand
and now i must weave myself back together.

if i could paint a picture of
what it feels like when you kiss me,
this is what it would look like:

a mystical purple swirling galaxy full
of glittering silver stars that shine wildly
and then explode into diamond dust
and everything is alive, and somewhere
in the middle of the canvas I am falling
head-first into a cloud made of ice cream.

if i could paint a picture of
what if feels like when you kiss me,
this is what it would look like.

this place is full of monsters
and maggots
and blood-******* demons
and piece-by-piece soul stealers.
they are the thieves of love.
selfish and reckless,
their parasitic fingers take and take.
they drink the blood of their victims
then discard their empty bodies
like used paper cups.
the vampires walk among us
and they wear the faces of angels
to hide their fangs.

You carry my heart in your pocket
with your car keys and your pennies
and your business cards.
Heavy as brick, breakable as glass,
there my heart waits
with your pens and your bus pass
and that old stick of gum
you forgot about
with the little bits of lint stuck on it.

You drag your feet up the hill.
The higher you climb, the heavier
my heart.
You could lighten the load.
Just leave it behind. Someday

someone will find it,
dust it off and carry it home.
But you don't do that. You keep it
with you, in your pocket with your phone
and your receipts
and that half-eaten protein bar
you never finished

slowly making your way
up this long, winding path:
step
by
step
to (y)our future

if raindrops never fell from the sky
there would be no sturdy evergreens, and
cherry blossom petals would never fall in the streets
like confetti, celebrating the welcoming of spring.

if hearts never ached with dull emptiness
or dried up with loneliness and longing
we would never appreciate the feeling
of heart seams that are bursting with love.

when the pain grabs hold and rips you open
and tears break the dam of your closed eyelids
do not worry because this is how strength is made
and every hurt builds a new callous on your now tough skin.

when the cracks in your foundation become craters,
when the earth breaks away at your feet,
when the world beneath you crumbles away
this is when you grow wings.

My heart doesn't beat.
It slams against my ribcage.
I picture my heart exploding
in my chest, nothing but
blood and shrapnel. Sweat
washes over me like a salty ocean wave
and if my heart doesn't explode first,
surely I will drown.
I try to swallow oxygen but
I choke on it! I try to drink water but
I choke on it! I can't breathe!
I can't breathe! I can't remember how
to be a human anymore.

I am a ragdoll cat.
Docile and placid, I bend
to your touch, my silky fur invites
your inquisitive fingers.

Easy come, easy go.
My claws are only for show.
Bred for affection, I'm
the perfect pet. I'll follow you
wherever you go.

But the thing about ragdoll cats is
when danger is near, we do not know.
We see predators the same as friends
because it's in our nature
to go with the flow.

Too many times, I've been ripped to shreds,
been tossed around and thrown
to the wolves.
When I land on my feet and lick my wounds,
I go right back to being a ragdoll.

Our pain echoes off these walls like
boulders ricocheting right back into
our own chests with every breath
we breathe. The air is heavy and thick
with longing, mine for him
and yours for me.

i still feel the low rumble of my heart
when your key clicks open the lock
to this old house

i still feel the quick-skip in my belly
when you hang up your work-worn bones
after a long day

i still feel the twitching in my fingers
when your skin is close enough
for them to wander

and i still feel the fire in my chest
when you wrap my body up
inside your arms

evening loneliness arrives at dawn
and knocks on the dusty windowpane

in the kitchen, i lie — with threadbare arms —
against the shabby wooden cupboard frame

this house is void of all electricity
except for the light bulbs, the fridge, the T.V.

and my steady-beating heart of rhythmic defeat
lying naked across the tear-stained sheets

if you come home and find that i am dead,
perhaps some ***** dishes fell on my head

but most likely, i'll be, in the living room gloom
with a half-drunk bottle of wine to consume

with emergency flares tied to both wrists,
i'll leave you a smile, a sigh, and a kiss

I followed my dear friends to the edge of a cliff
and was greeted by a peculiar thing.
There, standing on the edge of the earth
was a swing set waiting just for me.
Her thick black seat and strong metal arms
cradled me while together we flew
into the starry night canvas, sprawling
dark blue, except for a splatter of twinkling
firefly-speckles, from the cityscape
to the moon.

Each time she lifted me I felt closer
to the heavens. I raised my chin
and let the gentle kiss of raindrops
wash away my sins, cleansing
and revitalizing my body like a baptism.
I’ll never forget the smell of the rain
on the freshly-sprouted grass, with dew drops
made from the breath of my friends
hanging delicately in the sweet air
like glass beads strung on a wire
while the crisp wind carried me higher and higher
and the most brilliant masterpiece ever created
was painted across the entire night sky.

all my life I’ve been shackled and bound
with weights on my feet to keep me on the ground.
but then you came along with a ring of keys
and shackle by shackle, you set me free.

you took off my heavy shoes and rubbed my feet,
tied helium balloons to both wrists so I could fly,
then you unlocked the cage of my mind
and let my dreams spill out like water.

I float on these dreams from coast to coast,
and I fly with balloons, to the moon and the stars,
knowing that upon my return, you’ll be
waiting with open arms.

you removed the blindfold so now I can see
the best thing about you being you
is that you let me be me.

you do not belong here
you, with your filthy hands
and your dirt-eroded mind.
the cracked soles of your feet
have taken you through hell
and they are not welcome
to walk on this sacred grass.
do not touch the flowers here.
do not lay one oily finger on a single petal.
your greedy hands would pluck them all,
ripping their beautiful bodies from the earth,
snapping their roots, their lifelines,
so that you could put them in a glass vase
where they would live out the rest of their days
in the ***** water they'd rely on you to provide.

It was a perfect sunny day in June
the day our fourteen-year-old fingers met,
our palms lined with a thin barrier of sweat,
under the Hyde Creek Bridge that afternoon.
After skipping rocks, we sat on the ridge
and Bobby granted my most desired wish
when he offered me my very first kiss
that afternoon under the Hyde Creek Bridge.
With his tender hand just under my chin,
(and my heart doing cartwheels in my chest)
he pressed his lips against mine and I sighed.
His tongue flicked my tongue, like an expert, he grinned.
"Was that your first kiss?" He accurately guessed.
"Of course that wasn't my first time," I lied.

tight muscles, the pain,
the stress of the day,
you can wash it all away
with a glass of chardonnay,
easing the constant anxiety
that comes from the responsibility
of day-to-day reality.
flush it all down, along with your sanity
and just wash it all away.

when the night comes silently
and all the world is asleep and still,
when the minutes and seconds
are suspended and slowed down
and the city becomes a whisper,
that is when i wake up.
night time is my time
to feel, to cry, to think, to write,
to be myself, by myself,
on my own terms.
by day i am a walker,
a zombie, a nothing,
just waiting
for the lights to go out.
in the darkness, i am
a beacon of light.

in darkness i am the light.