do you ever think about
crystallized heartbeats?
and capricorn fists holding
winter solstices within each crease,
palms like mountains
with riverbends and valleys,
cliffdiving into an ocean
of crimson skin?
the lullaby that plays over
and over
in my head is the sound
of your voice
cracking as you said,
"please don't go."
that three-word phrase
sings me to sleep
every single night.

i didn't ask for this,
you know.

i didn't ask for blown-out candles
smoke twirling into tendrils of grey
and ashy piles.
i never asked for your blank stare
when your memory was erased
by people in white coats with long needles.
i didn't ask for your arms
to become my stronghold
and my shelter against the night.

i didn't want this but now i'm addicted.

*(a.m.c.)

I believe hearts are similar to lockets
you can open them and insert special items in them
they'll both tangle into knots when being misplaced for some time

They're both picked and pried at
by generations
or simply different lovers

Though a locket is lucky that it isn't alive
for it's chains would be broken by now

I want you to
pick something.
It can be anything:
integrity,
last Thursday,
your grandmother's
socks.
I don't care what it is
but I want you to
pick that something
out of all the
other somethings
and I want you to
believe in it,
I want you to
scrunch your eyes
up tight and
slow your breathing and
put all your energy
into that singular
belief.
And while you are
busy believing in that
something
I will believe
in you.

Mary Jane
keeping me sane
and losing trust
another hit I must
I'm not addicted
however, I'm convicted
visited by another drug test
tears, lies, denies, but look your best
there goes your parent's trust, if they had any
there's more Mary Jane in this city
and many No's have I said
but all it takes is one Yes
to not pass the trust test

It's eating my insides again
and throwing up all the 'happy' pills
it's reaching out of my chest and grabbing my throat
It's closing my eye lids
and speaking the excuse of "I'm tired"
It's the mere aggravation of boredom
it's stupid poems replacing razors
It's believing no body cares
it's asking for help but refusing to take it
it's taking up so much of my mind that I don't know how to end this

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.