i don’t care what she did
i don’t care what she does
she’s my friend, after all

my sister told me she’s full of red flags
she hasn’t texted me in over a month
she’s grounded, i’m guessing
(i’m low key glad we haven’t texted much)
(she can be kinda overwhelming)
i feel like a horrible friend for saying that

my brain hurts because she was always
so kind to me
she accepted me for doing nothing
i never had to prove myself when
she was around
yes, she may be problematic, but aren’t we all?

my sister told me to stop hanging out with her
and being friends with her
why would i break off a good friendship?
we’ve never done anything bad together

she tried running away with her boyfriend
his name is andrew and he’s much
older than her
in june, she told me he was good for her
and i was happy that she was happy
was i wrong for that?

now she’s reckless and crazy
(not that she was never before)
she’s only friends with ****
addicts and skateboarders
i’m the only exception
i’m the only normal stable (kinda) one

i hate getting confronted about my friends
i’m a good girl and i’m not a doormat
i know when things get sketchy
and when you should run away

i’m starting to rant, but i don’t
think it’s unhealthy  
who knows what will happen next
at least i get writing material out of this

(it’s just an innocent friendship)

de vez en cuando,
me siento con Esperanza
sobre una silla
en el patio.
hablamos como amigas
pero no conozco a ella.

con una voz como una brisa de la primavera
el sol palidece en comparación
a su sonrisa.
un olor hecho de cerezas.
ella se sienta a mi lado
y,
a veces,
hay un vacío que llena

ella sabe libertad
ella la tuvo
aunque se parece que
ella está atrapada
cada día
ella no es una esclava.

de vez en cuando,
ella se besa mis mejillas
entonces
deja con mi alma
y espero que
ella regresa
algún día.

as a girl with a brain who is taught not to use it
to abuse it
to misuse it
i refused it
concluded
that i wouldn’t yelp about every single non congruent disillusionment
told to be angry
to be discontent
with the world and its faux barbed wire
but i’m not discontent.
i am quite very content.

i thought of this
in the sparkle of the early morning sunrise
that women have only one ****** purpose in life
to find someone suitable,
and then get pregnant right after
every single ****** function that happens to a woman is because
she is preparing to have offspring
our hips are widening
our bodies are thick
thick especially around our stomachs
patiently waiting for a child or at least an egg
in hopes of a tangible pregnancy
i watched myself in the mirror
slowing fading from the grasped image of myself
who is that life form staring back at me?
i realized if i don’t have a kid later on
i am going to have to become a nun
it’s not that i hate God or something of the sort
there is just no available information
and with this body of mine,
that only functions for something that isn’t even born yet
in my own body
i am not the main goal or the main crop of my body
a baby with brown, black, or blond hair
will plop out onto the table and my body will say, “good work, time for another one.”
and i don’t even know a man who could gift me such a valuable being
after all the mass murders and violence and shooting
i don’t think i wanna send my child into a world of fear
where every corner they turn is another disorder or a world order or a thief’s ******
but somehow my skin wants to breed another living breathing specimen
and if i create another girl who turns into a woman
i am going to have to tell her at some point
that the most proud thing
she can do in life is give birth to another child
and if she asks why
with my teeth gritted and my bloodshot eyes
i will say, “i don’t know, it’s just life.”

his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that envelops him.
the life in his nonexistent smile.
his eyes like beacons of hope.  
but he’s crying in pillows that engulf his sorrow
he’s begging the master to give him tomorrow
to lift the hammer off his chest
to halt the train until the morning hour
to untie the cuffs around his wrists tied to the tracks.
he’s hiding the fits, the consuming illnesses
the signs of weakness that creep into his concreteness.
his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that devours him.

Calligraphy
And my figures of speech
I’ll wait for a moment to pounce
But for now, I’ll be cooped up in my house
Nonchalantly
Engaged in pensive thought about you

And if I could see the summer sun
One more time before the waves turn black
Like a mysterious soul
Or like non renewable coal
I’ll want that

And if you could smile pleasantly up at me
Like you want to have a discussion with me
I will formally accept that offer
In the safety of my own room and the
shoulders of my country

And you’re partly stone
And half liquid
I ain’t trying to get in your business
But I can’t love from a distance
And I can’t breathe when you’re missing

Calligraphy
I’m writing pretty just to act like you didn’t wrong me
With your brand new friends and being a pain to society
That’s what being smart and needy gets you

I feel betrayed by my own tongue
By the rapid movement of my fingers when I’m writing about you
Cause I never wanted to admit anything
Not even the truth
When it comes to you

I know everyone else converses with the easy side of you
Lighting the cigarette and blinded by the reality
Of the way you use your words because you have a dang superiority complex
Or are you different?

Calligraphy
Slanting your definition so you’re not the villain in the story
I laugh in desperation and the thought that I might never see your eager face at 7:30 in the morning ever again
That is terrifying to me
I’m growing up and you are too
I feel like it’s a curse for me
A curse because of a plague of guilt and malevolence
I know she’s alive grinning, watching my life crumbling like the lost city of Pompeii
She stole you away from me
Not the pages of poetry
Or the growing apart because of vicinities
It’s the hostility, the spite, the animosity
Because I was having such a dang good year
Until she had to place her grummy hands over my happiness
And MY moments
Regurgitate them back to me
Please.

—i wanted you to love me
not in a selfish way
in a “i’ve never experienced love, can you dress my wounds” kind of way
i wanted your eyes to paint galaxies
over the acres of my skin
and make them shine like a constellation in the
light-polluted backyard

—i wanted you to adore me
not in a selfish way
in a “if you looked at anything else, it wouldn’t measure up, but that’s fine” kind of way

but you don’t have to love me
in a stain glass window church kind of way
you don’t have to paint over my cracks
and force me to stay
i would hold your hand no matter
even if the dam we built together suddenly came apart
i would hold you
soft—
ly

you’re so easy to love


   —i wish i was like you

i’m wearing shades of lavender
shades of misery
despair, impaired

you aren’t mine
because i took your smile
packed it inside the trunk of my moving vehicle
that i can’t even maneuver
if our paths became photographs instead
i think i would miss you the best

i know intentions fade
and spirits degrade
hope in a vacuum
****** out of reach
the stars are calling
and the seas are swallowing
a dog with a bone
in love with the hand that feeds it

i need you
my piece of evidence
that all this happened
and you didn’t hate me
i know my friend is crazy
why can’t this hate around envelop me
and spit me out because i don’t want to doubt i don’t want to hate anyone anymore i’m not an unforgiving soul
send me away, for the palace in the hills
contagion in its clearest form
don’t take over

you aren’t mine
she isn’t kind
the rainwater is intricate and doesn’t mean any harm
rushing towards a form of civility
follow me

i lie
so others can like me
there’s this tendency
that i can’t tell her that she’s wrong
i don’t want to hate anymore i don’t want to foam at the mouth with greed with repulsion at anything
for you to be a fly on the wall, at that sick carnival
humans always fail to forget the remnants of such a barbarous past

i don’t have you
you aren’t mine
possession of you
must be some kind of fantasy
rambling
such a lurking fear

but i don’t want to hate anymore go to a gravesite pray for their souls i don’t wanna pump hate into this world i don’t hate anyone i just want to be alone

i need to put an end to it
disconnect the waters to your faucet
make you start crying because of all you did
a dog with a bone
castigating the hand that won’t feed it


it’ll be such a glorious execution

through tsunami waves
like fortresses
pounding with such force and restlessness
lay a hand upon this chasm
fissures along this human body.
blinked two times;
a signal for help.
you, an undercover perpetrator, spilt this ****** blood
there’s no rhyme or reason
for the capture of such purity.
the eagerness of the flesh
descending upon uneasiness.
one heart unmoored
one mourned
two hearts unbreakable
by a force of nature
so undeniable,
death is willing to submit to its feet.

can’t remember the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
i miss when i didn’t know half of all the words that exist.
i regret ever ignoring my best friend.
i hate anxiety and the burden it makes me feel like i am.
i miss being able to look in the mirror and see someone worth while.
i miss being loved.
i miss being myself.
i miss everything.

snapped out of existence
in a rustic flannel
lying at the bottom of a pit
far into the mushy ground
the core of the earth
pinned against my ribs
lips as cold as the Antarctic
stomach as empty as words
left to rot
as rain descends
on my emaciated corpse

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.

unlikeable
write it on my
                            F      A      C       E

the air is heavy
incapable of breathing it
it clings to my mouth
******* in the
                    weights

i’ve never hated being alone more
but i know i am not just alone
i am lonely
when the sky falls
turns purple and pink
i am left in an empty battlefield
full of unloaded guns

oh, what have i come to?
but what am i kidding
i have always been unlikeable
i should have known

the ocean is still.
the birds fly gracefully over the fjord.
the snowflakes glisten during their time of the year.
the delicate warbler chirps, singing to himself.
the cows run home for milking.
the flowers whisper in the meadows.
the wind becomes a choir.
the sun waves to the whole of nature.

           and i stand here alone
i am only me inside of these harbors
inside of these ecosystems
i don’t dance
i don’t sing
i tried to be anything
but me.

i tried to be still
but i lost my patience.
i tried to fly gracefully
i fell down at my feet.
i tried to glisten like the snowflakes
i was still a mute color.
i tried to sing to myself and the trees
but i sounded like i was dying.
i tried to run home some day
but my enemies chased me away.
i tried to whisper in the meadows
i sounded like i was yelling.
i tried to become a choir with the wind
but i failed miserably.
lastly, i tried to wave to nature
they just turned their backs to me.

so i stopped trying altogether
i even stopped wishing
until i realized
i didn’t have to be the calm of the storm
i could be the eye
i didn’t have to be the breeze
i could soar on my own wings.
i could make a poem
about how the leaves twinkle like stars with the morning dew inside of them
about how the moon dreams of me
and how i dance for the rain
about how everything belongs in nature
and how i can fit in too.

there are brats and rats and scumbags
crowbars and cheap cars and phantom stars
in the town of denial
down by the frothy beach
in the middle of a place called insanity

there are temptresses and trespasses and messages
phony ploys and bloodthirsty boys and aimless joys
in the dust-accompanying countryside
the place that silver wolves and pistols occupy
in foreboding high midnight sighs

there is loneliness and helplessness and acid
soda cans and grunge bands and peculiar bans and queer vans
all inside my throbbing heart
in the space i refuse to stay
in the place where it’s never “ok”

down by the frothy beach
in the middle of a place called insanity

me.

He’s confusing
         I sure am stumped
                As if a puzzle came to life.
  Unlike a book
          I can’t read him
                 Maybe I don’t speak his language
   Yet I still try
          Which proves that I care
                  And I’m not scared
    Because people aren’t open books
           You have to discover them on your own
                     I love that one person could be
    Rocks to me
             And gold to you
                    Even a crescent moon
     And what I see in him is a tree
               With moss, with roots, with leaves
                     Don’t cut it down
     Because someone out there might want
          To plant a thousand more seeds
   From your sprout
                     And grow a society of trees.

sweaty hands, take me to dance
i swung my arm around
you told me i was doing it wrong
so you grabbed my waist
and swayed
to the beat of the drums
to the beat of my overwhelmed heart
the neon lights shone on your heavenly face
i stared deeply into your glowing eyes
my sister was jealous
that i could land you
so easily
from that glittering stage with neon lights
into your arms only tonight

the sand is between my toes
all my foes have gone south for the
long winter
they are crashing beach waves
unable to reach my shore

the vibrant burning flesh
lingers harshly on our legs
entangled
between nightgowns and laugh-out-louds
the dim midnight candles flicker
bitter wind grazes past so gently
and yet so recklessly

there is a sunlit radiance
lit up on your face
a certain kind of experience
brings forward such impetuousness
effervescent and streaked with purpose
you glow with such precision
inside a hotel suite bound for secrecy
and pretending to be
who we are not, who we wish we were

i was young sun-kissed skin
incandescent
lucidly dancing
in childish daze
astray
in foreign
places
cabaret
underage
dizzy and unhinged
but somehow still so poised
in violet tenderness
with your soft lips
on mine
such subtle ties
impossible to memorize
we are fragments of misplaced puzzle pieces
deliberate looks on sweltering beaches
we are undefined
in the white
heat of summer
nights

stares that tarnish
secure fires
by the beachside
there are sudden nerves in
self-proclaimed fearlessness
awestruck teenagers
intoxicated in the
unforeseen appearance of lust, misconstrued as love

the balconies with ivy over the edge
spill over the cloudless yellow coast
wild cerulean waves bathe the air in slight showers
careful hand grabs
heat lightning
fever struck adolescence
soak in twilight sweat beads
ebullient girls with brunette bouncing curls
in the wake
your waves
crash against my figure
leaving spots touched by the sun
handprints,
and your scent remains on
me
as you alluringly
twist the shape of the universe
around
our own accords
the dawn licks our faces
as we wake up to the soothing noises
of boats rising then
tumbling upon the ocean current
like
your magnetic field pulls me
into swift contact upon auberge floors  

we become the matters we take
in our own hands
we become two shapes glistening
in the pale hush of nightfall

there is nothing on this sinking ship except naivety and

(in my quiet solitude
though uninhabited, i see a force that wears the skin of a wolf
and it circles around me like a vulture to its prey.
there is yet to be found a validity
alive in this misfortune
obscenity has a spiteful home here.

have these bones grown too brittle?
have you turned into a surge of unnecessary memory?
the pressure folding my lungs like cards
the violence raising me as a scapegoat.
have you seen these ugly acidic tears turn the ground into a salt mine?
if you have looked for me, you have not seen me.
my intuition pulls and hides and repositions me
these conditions we instill are making us suffocate.
and these borders are making me unfamiliar
to the uproar i had grown so accustomed to.
to the sewer, we were flushed
and we lost the foundation that was hardly standing beneath our groaning feet.

the fury i breathe through my tired nostrils
entangles me
like a vine in a rainforest that only knows how to be sunny.
if you have looked for me, you would have seen a corpse instead.
a semblance of what used to exist.
a current swept over terrain that remains, that never
changes.
the barriers across miles of lands picked over, lands filled with dry tumbleweed, lands uncooperative with human life,
we rested upon.
in painful oblivion,
we lost the voice of the siren.
our qualms swelled
manically filling us with unease inscrutable to our undeveloped skulls.
we wear our burdens like unwashed clothes.
we walk within the hands of famine and loss and destruction.
we hear each other’s names, but all it causes is…)


pain.

no one cares what books i read
my “best” friend cries on the phone to me
she says it’s just a matter of time
before we go on vacation together
or the april child she loves will
wind up at her ivy-covered door
with lips filled in apologies
or half-hearted “i adore yous.”

she says it’s just a strange world
comparing each of my companions to her
i don’t allow myself to get worried
with her obvious emotional manipulation
her selfish need to conspire against me
constantly thinking it’s for the best.

her mother speaks so softly
tells her not to get so out of hand
tries not to let her wash her life away
in a trailer park fever dream
with cigarette smoke and boys that come
and go, but they never know
the brutal need for her to skin her victims
package them away in garage bins
and leave them to handle their mangled limbs
by themselves

one day, i think i will freak out
and rip up the bluebird-colored tablecloth
and pluck the shards of glass
from my weakened arteries
and she will meltdown in a sweaty bar
turn soggy and white in the face
and her relatives will all disown her

she says i’m one of the only friends
to chose from
to swim in a pool by the ocean
she wants the florida marsh in my hair
the cypress smile sticky on my top lip
but she doesn’t care about me
and my irregular temperature
my august windstorms
my maine hemispheric cold-spouts

her merely view through telescopic lenses
magnifying me
but she says slurs and she thinks it’s ok
and it’s not
multiple skeletons lying upright in her closet
as i try to open the doors
she slams them shut
freckles from the sun and the never-ending daytime hour she rarely sleeps and
maybe that’s her issue
all blue and purple, bruised legs
and egos falling on the floor
like dominoes
springtime wishful thinking,
but winter betrayal sinkhole in my backyard

she says it’s about time for
her to come to my house
deposits her eggs for me to chew on
or take care of or whatever
she thinks this transactional
friendship is
or how it looks from the inside
lurking along the corners of the creaky fence

she moves in muscular anomaly
she uses me like a chess piece
bent to her inconsistencies
face flat on farmland
and flannels torn to holes
from her constant urge to
crunch up all my simple pleasures
leaving them like mush
and stomach acid lingers
on their polyester remnants
smelling like old shoes worn by
some old storyteller

but i am in hibernation,
comatose on the dewy grass
my liver sits untouched inside of my belly
crabapple seeds are planted
but rarely the trees ever sprout or venture
farther than one foot
buried inside infertile ground

she waits attentively for my eyes to bat open
for the coma to subside
so when the morning wetness climbs
atop my powdered-coconut nightgown
sallow in complexion
i rest with shut pupils
so the fools don’t bolt into
the inmost part of me  

she tells herself he’ll write her a letter
stained with decaf coffee or maybe
his own sweat or spit or
passion dipped into a quill pen
and out onto the parchment
pathetic diction and apathetic vindication
she tells me one day,
he will regurgitate it back for her
onto her palms and she will recite
every word like a well-thought out poem
sprawled out upon her chest
heaving his misleading justifications

but i won’t be waiting
for her
as the florida air stains her soul
from the inside out
until her heart is black as coal
and her hands are stained from the
peeling of my brain cavity that
leaks blood she thinks
makes oddly-familiar patterns
across her guilty figure

these quiet soft bodies in the forest are suffering
there is an endless question in the mouths of the rivers
there are scoundrels dressed in foggy black smoke
making peace with themselves while killing everyone else
their canines sharp, their chilling howling winds making the spirits’ hair stand on edge

these quiet soft bodies in the woods are suffering
there is a constant pounding of war drums beyond the horizon
buried underneath silk-spinning spiders and fool’s gold
there are ghastly ghosts shrieking for eternity in their eternal vacant brains
their tepid seething souls scavenging the abandoned corpses like vultures

these quiet soft bodies in the darkness are suffering
there is a hazy fog that blinds the earth from the heathens that have been buried in vain
they have bulging eyes and stigmatic circumstances protruding through the silence
tempestuousness swirling beneath their feet as in a hurricane churns up the foamy water
they see red coals and embers in the cores of any sane soul
they will gag you with a temper, leaving anger imprinted on your skin  

these quiet soft bodies in the emptiness are suffering
their cries for help are being intercepted by the government that birthed them
leaving them to be swallowed by the jet-black monsters that lurk in the shadows
there is a mask that is worn over their heads before their sense gets scraped off of their skin
they never have to feel a thing, the gashes only give a sense of victimhood

these quiet soft bodies in the nothingness are suffering
they are getting eroded away, thrown up in flames, spewing out ****** teardrops
they are hunted down and shot, seasoned perfectly and oiled
the trees groan from the fumes exuding up beyond the sky line
their branches fall off as they look the other way, vapid in their deliberations

“sparkle and shine,”
one day i’ll say
to myself in the mirror
or maybe even
to a distant/immediate
lover
under
the covers.
“shine and be shown,”
one day i’ll yell to
the spruce trees
whose branches
hover over
me
or to
the way i
look in skinny
jeans.
“love the death inside of you
and keep the
life inside
of you as
strong as you can,”
one day i’ll tell my
grandchildren if i lose
my fear of giving
birth or
to somebody
needing
of a pep talk.
“be valiant,
don’t ever be false,
for that is worse than
the most heinous
of truths
you have hiding
inside your skull,”
i’ll tell you as
we sit
on
the kitchen floor
in underwear
under
the fluor
escent
flickering lights
eating brunch
at noon in the
afternoon.
and you’ll tell
me the exact
same thing
and i’ve always
been such a
terrible
liar.
“sparkle and shine,”
one day i’ll say
on the dock
by the lake house
with the really
suspicious murky
water
and i’ll say it
with pride to
the image
of my past
image in
the pitiless
mirror.
perhaps you’ll
say it to me as well,
as the fog
opens up a
new front
in my/our
front yard
as i peep
through the
blinds
and i feel alive
and the
poetry in my
veins awakens
to the beat of
the ripened heat.
and i’ll shine like
the sun,
just can you be
my spotlight if
my light suddenly
dims?
can you?
can you, please?

i feel you in the dark
and i feel you in the candlelight.
i see you in the stars
and yet, i can never reach them.
you’re so close
yet so far
you dance all alone
outside the bar
by the place we first exchanged
eye contact
and i saw you in the embers of the street fires.
you gave me happiness
or even just a moment of contentment.
you gave me something tangible to feel
something genuine,
something actually real.
a figment of my imagination
you’ve become
in such short of time.
i miss the optimistic smile
that would
light up in your eyes
and i knew you felt the smoke arise
in my body
after the ravenous fire inside of me diminished.
i feel you as the curtain closes
as the locket i keep as a memorandum
shakes along with my morally stained hands.
i can’t keep a steady eye on the
realness of life.
it all fades into the blue
along with my rare smile.
i haven’t felt the wild wind pull my hair in
different directions.
are you even listening?
i haven’t seen the stars at night
only factory smoke in sight
and the dress you wore is ******
and so lonely.
i traverse through town
and always seem more bitter.
the ripped-up constitution of my
feeble institution
it just crumbles at my feet.
they can’t hear me when i breathe.
it’s as if the world is turning
into a frenzy
and i’m slowly
becoming more and more formidable.
they don’t want to knock upon my door
and they don’t want to fear me anymore.
yet i just want them to fear me more
than they ever have before.
i’m sick of finding solace in the ghost of you.
i’m sick of seeing my forcefulness multiply
into knives that stab
you from beneath your grave.
the dress you wore is ******
and so lonely.
can you teach me how to heal my wounds?
i already lost you,
i can’t lose myself.

gardening hands
sliced wings—
you make me happy
and i don’t mean to sound corny
but it’s true.
i am not in love
but time isn’t creeping behind stone walls
time isn’t slithering like a snake
in this garden
the smile cannot stop before it hits my lips
the river is smooth
and settles in my throat
naturally.
i am not in love
but happiness is clinging to my torn sleeves
all the factory floors where my cold body laid so still
are getting renovated,
new floor plan.
harsh sea waters have calmed
after waging a war of hatred.
i am not in love
but this town feels bigger than usual
this gust of wind upon my head
is slowing by the minute.
the hour does not creep,
it moves along,
no hissing nor shouting nor demanding.
i am not in love
but the night spins achingly through my ceiling
as i beg and beg and plead for the sudden heat of the morning sun
sooner, faster
restrain me
i am not in love
i am only
happy

in the ballroom
your eyes like comets
mine like phosphorescent lights
in the humid july sky

our arms moving like seaward ships
caught you stranded amidst the violence
eyelashes that swayed in the wind
you saw me, you asked me to dance

i don’t believe everything is as it should be
it was just a kiss, i don’t think i actually miss you
or maybe i’m slowly getting addicted
to the cadence of your voice
every night, it’s back to that july or was it november weather?

you touched my hand with a fiery blaze that pranced inside that stuffy room
you gave me a glance, i gave you a chance
you could’ve tumbled from the balcony
would my reaction time have been as swift as when you had caught me by surprise?

why am i such a fool?
if it had started with you
we could have fled together like panicked soldiers
from the esteemed battlegrounds their forefathers fought for so their successors could lose their next battles
and get captured and chained against walls

and i wanted you, i was only a husband away from kissing you,
touching you,
impaling you

you were moments away from calling my bluff
it’s enough, i’m in handcuffs
while you stand in the ballroom
your eyes on me like you’re the spotlight and i’m your stage device

we danced like we meant it
would you have given me up for a fairer maiden?
one with less personality issues and without a right hand man?
would you have stopped if i told you that dancing is for ghosts in empty hotels?

i would have died trying in a slashed wedding dress
if the force i called my lover didn’t snag my clothes on his irregular branches

i can’t see beyond these singing cliffs
please kiss me
on the dock of my yacht
i’ll adore you until you ***** me over
or until i ***** you over
and we become ashes on the riverbed
that was the location where my lips touched yours
on the grass
not on the ballroom steps
not with a cigarette in your mouth

you were slipping through the gloves i wore?
i don’t recall, did the background start to get blurry
when you swept me off my feet?
did i panic?
did you love it?
did you notice the electricity escaping from my palms?

i spotted your pupils become lucid
the lights didn’t even change colors
and you danced with some kind of suitor
but i don’t know who you are
or what your motives are
just know that the mirror can only hold evil if it’s as marvelous as you

the patterns of your footsteps in my nightmares or perhaps
in the trances my exhilaration transports me to

are

lurking in the shadows
in the doorframes
the hallways of trains i haven’t stepped toes in
complaints flooding the mailboxes i happen to own

i loaned you my heart as a temporary ornament
you could dangle like candy
in front of adored damsels looking to be courted
i’m becoming the focal point in your daily
struggle to gain power over the situation that sadly owns me

waltz inside of my irises instead of on the floating platform
that is about to crumble beneath the soles of our dress shoes

my conscience buried in the thawing soil

did you lose sight of the plans you foiled?

whistle to the carriage you paid for
open the door for the feeble woman in the backseat
it would have boiled your blood,
and so i would’ve kissed your lips

but ghosts don’t dance in ballrooms;
they just sit
and watch everyone else become brides and grooms
and they feel the tug every single time
the room erupts in sudden laughter
they wait like stubborn angels  
at the noisy soirée
anticipating the collapse of young souls
like me and you

and therefore; the downfall we have will be a spectacle
your disintegration in the mirror will be a quotidian one
as i watch your bones dance in your body like little puppets in a silly drama

catch me when i fall for
the doors i have entered
before haven’t
restored my soul
and i would have kissed you
or even said i missed you
if he wasn’t the person he was
if you weren’t the person you are
and if i was completely unaware of the consequences of mistakenly false coincidences
perhaps i would have put my lips to yours
outdoors
as the creek entertained our obscene selves
and heard our dramatic moans
and groaned
“good riddance”

“good riddance indeed”

our tempers fizzled and the skeletons were evicted from our closets
good causes, it’s my fault—it’s
just that i said all those cheery things to impress you
as if you were Socrates or someone of such high standing;
undoubtedly, you are

but the cliff i leaped off of slowly became you—the ghost in the castle walls
who waltzes with gorgeous girls
just to dream of what it would be like to
kiss them,
touch them,
impale them

i wonder how it felt to be in control
to hold me like i would puncture your skin
like some breed of lovesick vampire

i was only a girl in love with a future
she could not let unfold
because she had a husband waiting at home

waiting for her to slip up
feeling less and less in control

but with your gaze like lightning
ignoring is such a demanding reality
and
i want to kiss you,
i miss you,
this isn’t a petty joke
join me in the meadow
hands in mine
and touch me,
kiss me,
impale me

when the mountains
come crashing down upon
the crops
and smother us
like a mother
maybe that’ll feel like
love
or wanting.
cause you fed the fire
in me
but now i’m burnt out
you planted the truth in me
but now only lies slip out
of my mouth.
come to think of it
the mountain
peaks are lower
than your
self esteem
can’t believe
i trusted you with
my blood
my tears
my values
you trampled them
like an avalanche.
liquid pours out of
my ears
my eyes fizzing
in them,
carbonation
is making an appearance.
sometimes i don’t know
what to do
i have no clue
what i am writing
right now
let alone
why my mind won’t
stop flooding with
images of your ivory skin.
this prison sentence
is on the brink
of ending.
thank Heaven.
and
i write to fill space
and that’s what
i did
with this.

i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he believed we were going to be inseparable lovers encaged inside of barbed wire
he believed i would be his muse,
till his last breath

but i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he breathes in rose blossomed newlywed smiles
he dances in spite of the acid rain

he believed we were an unstoppable tsunami
destined to keep growing and growing
enveloping all things into our youthful hearts

i believed we were a radioactive volcano
tension, tension, and tension
until suddenly we burst
into violent lava
and wreak havoc on the binds that hold us
together

he saw our glowing embers
never yet thought of the impending destruction
we would cause
with our hurricane stubbornness
and tornado hotheadedness

because

i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he breathes in idealistic remedies
he dances on stage as the curtain draws

he believed we would face this world together
like uplifted doves carrying olive branches in their beaks
i believed we would crumble
like every clumsy ancient civilization

but still i rest here,
with eyes devoid of aurora borealis projections
and i wish
that i would have
surrendered to his tsunami

i need to grasp the feeling of being washed away instead of hanging on to loneliness like it’s the last straw of my far fetched happiness
wash me away
i am useless if you cannot love me

you look like every teenage dream
every boy in a magazine
vogue and all the other ones.
you wore leather pants and a luxurious belt
and i almost forgot how it feels to have felt so infatuated.
you took that microphone and shoved it up my nose,
you don’t believe in miracles.
i taught you sadness, you taught me madness,
we breathe in deep red lights.
i can’t embellish you in free verse if you don’t love me first,
i miss when i used to use you as my muse.
i’ve never been in love, but if it would happen to me, i know i would fall in love with you.
cause you don’t believe in miracles,



but i do.

what would you do with all the sand in the world?
if the tides disappeared, a dry land appeared
what would you do?
would you pile it on top of me to smother me?
would you put it over my head to taunt me?
or would you make it fall, ever so slightly around me, filling up my space with sandy fumes, glass trapping me inside?
would you give me a slow death, watch me suffer?
or would you pull me out after seeing me take the brunt of it?
what would you do with all the sand in the world, one may ask?
nothing, just leave it put