nightgown histeria
soft wavy hair falling as it sways in the wild wind
the peach trees
and she’s vibrant, isn’t she?
wander the halls of the empty house
counters tall, sink’s rusted
blueberries are in the ill-functioning refrigerator
and she inhales the summer wood scent
bark, smoke, and a little cherry.
lush green goes for miles
but she picks autumn leaves.
the shorts gripped to her thighs in the sizzling heat
she grapples with reality
on picnic table squares
light brown baskets bought and borrowed sit upon the blowing grass
creaky floorboards as she moves so briskly, but so sure.
of the holistic nature, she is meant to be perceived
in lavender fields, she hikes up her nightgown as the sun dips down
following the fireflies to her destination
quite possibly her demise
but she is golden like the sun rays
she is bluer than the ocean
but she is untamed, untrained and bold
the literal depiction of moonlight
she’s an attic of great antiquity
with hopes and dreams and reasons to fly in the wind
and it’s melancholy to watch yourself
crumble in a lonely house
left with your fearsome doubts
and it’s pouring rain
and she’s going insane
with her white nightgown now stained with rouge blood
around the heart that she once carved out of her body
to avoid her insanity
guess she climbed up the sycamore
to catch of glimpse of her brother
the sun was setting, fire burning, chimney smoke rising, hazy feelings
she adores this rope swing.

you were whisked away on a ship, bound for the treasure of the hidden world

i traveled to a desert
sweltering heat and cracking blisters
called your name as dry sand filled my esophagus
an oasis sprouted in the middle of the sandcastle civilization
running water, blue and hopeful
sprinting like a madman, i trekked towards my salvation
but when i came across its beckoning entrance
the mirage collapsed
the betrayal
my eyes had deceived me
in my consuming exhaustion, i had forgotten the illusions, smoke and mirrors the desert plays on you
and in being so crushed beyond belief
sandstorms came from under my feet
and, you know, the mirage became some
solidified reality
and
i
ache for it
with all my bones.

if only i were a crew member
aboard your ship to the galaxy
i was seconds away from boarding
five steps away
so close i could smell the saltwater as it caressed my cheek
waving goodbye to your face, decorated with sunlight
sun-kissed and golden.

the navigator of the seas
traveler with a sense of abandonment, on a sailboat gliding over waves,
glowing, evolving, flying
the sunset disappearing beyond the horizon,
where you chase the possibility of its various immensities
a rhythmic beauty, hung up in galleries, watching the waves lap against the shore
hands on her chin as she sits cross legged,
feeling the sand swirl around her  
she cups up the sand, as it vanishes slowly underneath her palms
sobbing into a pile of grief, so confined in a state of helplessness
she tumbles on the sand, silky hair falling to her sides under crescent moon design
and
she
aches for refuge
with all her bones.

the house i grew up in
festered with a body—a garden perpetually filled with weeds
the rainwater refused to fall
the roof caved in
stricken with a sense of unending
discouragement

i miss the poor girl i used to be
who smiled after she tasted her salty tears.
she tried to seek the positive out of situations.
the chains in the train yard wouldn’t dare shackle to her.
she stayed locked—unwillingly—in a strangulation cage meant for wild animals.
she couldn’t scream or thrash
for the danger she faced was inside her own home
grappling with the concept of his nature
bound into his fibers of being
chasing a reason for such cruelty that was instilled on me

when these songbirds are trying to explain to me
the own reality that confronts me.
like a shark to its ****,
eating so slowly, so monstrously
without a care.
anger is a ghostly emotion—apparently—and i was told that my entire life.
you can’t make mistakes for things you can’t help
or you can’t hurt someone because you didn’t mean to.
you didn’t mean to hurt me, so the stain on my mind doesn’t exist, right?
the pain i have endured, it doesn’t mean a thing.

nights staying up
praying for a difference
praying for deliverance
scared to wake up the next morning
scared the beast would crawl in between the walls
and plant itself into a vase inside my room.
woke up to crashing, banging, screaming, flailing, falling, yelping, sobbing, screeching.
living in an intricate world faced with devastation.

left me alone in empty bedrooms
arms around my kneecaps
clambering about for stability
for refuge
devoid in a void
clumps of hair collapse onto the floor
with a sore scalp and arms
spit on weeds to stir growth in them
no seeds, no roots, no living things
sprouted from the rouge colored fluid

police sirens would go off, thinking they would finally take you away
instead it was brutal beating and
no one came to save me.
the world i felt was icy cold, with icicles plopping down from trees onto the crystallized ground where my tiny feet stood.

the beast would shred the tapestries,
drown the happiness,
banish goodness.
claws as sharp as razor blades—attached to my skin and it wouldn’t free me.

came upon purgatory with tears blamed on allergies,
weariness blamed on tiredness,
fear twisted into nervousness.
do you think the inhabitants believed me when i watched the garden soak up with water?
no, they didn’t.
and i didn’t want to believe either.
the neurons inside my brain painted as façades, shapeless and blurry
for i could not worry if i left my mind in an alleyway
bound to be found one day
by a friend; not isolation, not consternation
but something that could bring forgiveness.

but violence—it’s red and unavoidable—
haunting every cell
like a tornado whooshing along a path
paved with fresh cement and bright bloomed roses
ripping up piles of dirt
flinging it around every corner.
it knew i looked up every night to find Heaven,
gleaming in the blanket of night.
from the gold gates to the strikes of my enemies.

the mind i knew grew cold
the situation was dense, kidnapped in the notion that suffering was forever—in certain circumstances it can be—finding fault in my own soul
instead of in the soil in the battlegrounds of a labyrinth

a corpse unlike any other.
shell of an aging body
built on the foundation of red violent tendencies.
flesh of an unidentifiable creature
alone in its reality
doomed to linger.
for forever.

i used to know all your best friends,
just so you know
we used to giggle together in intimate classrooms

     but forget that, right?

i forgot the richness of politeness
the sweat dripped off my body
and your eyes dazzled like crystals.
a rose grew from the slight smile on your lips.
you awakened a fight or stay response in me

you reached out and touched my palms
and yours were not hot coals as i expected them to
be
they were violet and soft and smooth and moisturized
you didn’t have the crocodile disposition i dreamt you would

i felt like an animal that accidentally broke the glass of its confinement
and didn’t know what to do
with the scattering crowds and screaming children
so it just ran.

in your arms,
you caught me.
not too harshly,
but so i felt safety.

i owe you some serious debt for giving me
the simplest little smile along with
the tiniest little gestures

the claws of the lion dug into my spine,
razor-sharp and cruel

i didn’t deserve the kindness you showed me
i was scared you would hate me if i talked to you,
i didn’t know what to do.
the roses wilted inside my palms
as they stayed clumped from under the weight of my hands.

i pray that you blossom in your future
and i aspire to give the same kindness
as you have gifted to me.

jet blue were your lips
frostbitten and clueless
reckless nature, pure bliss
lining across my face

living creature so fortunate
sad soul, contortionist
lucky human, determinant
skeletons in your closet
close the doors, they might see it

how do you like yourself
when you’re hurting everyone else?
how do you live like this
jet black heart, pure bliss?

seeing stars in the rear view
so selfless, aren’t you?
painted goodness upon you too
how does it feel to only feel true?

wanna know my life?
the pages i have turned
the cages i have broken out of
aches i still feel to this day
wanna see my tears build up in my eyes?
so painful to love someone who’s destined to die
you must feel worthy in your sickened life
the paintbrush is your friend
the eraser, your companion
it must feel satisfying to change the story
to change the history of the truth

you’re jet black in nature
with a petty sideways grin
always out for blood,
the blood of your kin
no matter how hard you try
to live a lie
gifting yourself the decency
of at least pondering the idea of being right

you’re a crawling creature scanning for
something to attack
jet black compassion

bring them back.

died young.
who’s to say it won’t happen to me?

they say change isn’t a bad thing
though it feels like a woodland monster
grabbing my arms and tying them together
in knots
i can breathe, but it’s heavy and uncontrollable

and you’re not even eighteen
yet
you feel so different
as a person
as a human
 as a creature
as a
i can’t even finish the sentence
cause i can’t describe you
help.

he was cornered
and alive on the highway
seeing signs become distant items in the desert sand
maybe his friends cried after hearing of his death
i don’t doubt it
cause he was so young
yet so permanently engraved in their minds

she is caught up in the tide of fake love
that comes around and swallows you whole
and then leaves you to cry on the floor
a waste of a few months
of cursing someone’s name
and
taking the blame
until suddenly you realize nobody loves you
as you are

and the moon she swells
with unhappiness
as the tides change
and you do as
well.
you think it is a good thing
yet it makes you insane
like a drunk driver upon the road
who is racing like a thunderbird

he will hit you, head-on collision
the brakes slamming hard,
but no use
and you’ll die as young as he was
did you know the gasoline would be your noose?

almost unrecognizable
almost delirium
almost a 180 change of perspective
you will dazzle in your movies
that’ll last for a couple years
until the camera gets too harsh and you beg it to stop
with your remaining adolescent brain
and your misunderstanding of things
so easy to comprehend,
you will get in your car,
tears on the steering wheel
speeding on the empty highway
you will lose your sense of direction
someone won’t notice your light
and you’ll be gone into the night.

don’t plead and cry now
this love is temporary,
you know it too.
don’t pretend that he loves you,
it’s not you that he sees,
it’s the opportunity for him to get attention
yet you’re naïve like every teenage girl ever
so stuck in your chic flics
you didn’t even notice,
him running away with your pride.

future is coming
future is coming
future is ****** and brutal
future is coming
it must be sad, trying to be melodramatic
all the time because you think you have to

you never know, the car could appear to be going slow
but you never know
how fast things can change in an instant
i hope you don’t lose yourself in the smoke
in the exhaust from the engine
i hope you know there’s more than one way to grow
don’t lose yourself under the influence
with a boy who’s dated all of the friends that you have

change is a strange
thing
deep and
consuming
i know you’re no james dean
pretending on a screen
so don’t become a chameleon  
unrecognizable,
they once said change is good,
but i’m doubting their answer
what’s your hope for the future?