i love my body
my waist that isn’t the slimmest
but it’s doing the job
my lips aren’t the fullest
but they can taste
i admit i used to hate my legs
i despised the way they fell together
no thigh gap
plump in the mirror and through my judgmental eyes
but i had body dysmorphia
and she was so cruel to me
hitting me and shaming me for every little crease and imperfection on my body
she obsessed and i listened
and i cried and i watched myself twenty four seven
but now my legs are powerful
they could take down anyone
they’ve got a mind of their own
idk when i started loving every swoop and curve and turn my body took
i still think my stomach is too fat
it’s not flat enough
and i would and still **** in to create an effect as if i didn’t eat the two burgers
that i only ate one
but i know i shouldn’t be perfect
i should be human, after all
but how am i supposed to adore the parts of my stomach that don’t look like other womens’ do?
eat less, don’t bloat, stop drinking or you’ll float
i don’t take that type of criticism anymore
my body ain’t perfect
not even a bit
but i am human
what’s wrong with it?
cause it’s a built in truth teller
i won’t let any man stick around who doesn’t beg at my feet
and touch my body as if it were blessed by God
who doesn’t dream of tracing every edge of me and doesn’t say i’m pretty
he better wanna explore every part and dive in deep
love me in my rawest form, beautifully
i will leave him if he uses me for my body
i will love him if he waits for me
you know a body is just a outer wall
for the goopiness and strength of ones heart
so i will love my body
because it is a part of me
and not obsess over it
because it doesn’t matter at all to me

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.

violent thrash of a sword
to the fortress
that i call home.
there is always some
silver coin
or biology
that takes from me.
i have no one, but…
individuality and religion.
each destined to be stolen from me
yet i will not surrender
like the blue girl
that lurks by the docks
resembling the runny river water.
i will not lose the lens
that formed me.
the end of the tunnel
is bleak and empty.
there is nothing to hold your flaky body
if you don’t have the lens.
what do you see in your reflection
if not an extension of what you dislike the most?
the inner workings of you
are strikingly wholesome
but the lights within you
are soon to be stomped out.
when you change yourself for the unforgiving blank void of life,
what is there left but a shell of fool’s happiness?
the point in feeling whole is
lost. my hands tremble, a stormy body
on the edge of today. and what is it worth
if not living for the truth? what is it worth
if my existence goes completely unacknowledged?
who will be themselves?

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

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.”

firstly: i know one hundred and fifty percent that i will blush when i see your face after all these years. my smile will morph into a full face frenzy of happiness. and i will definitely hide behind my friend that i see basically every single day. sorry, you always brought out my nerves
secondly: i miss you and i have missed you so incredibly much ever since you left and i left too. i don’t want to admit that unless you read my poetry one day, which i might end up giving you the username and you’ll read every poem i have ever written, you will never know what i truly feel about you. breach of privacy, but it’s for you. cause i wrote almost every time i missed you and i tried to summon you as if you would appear outside of my window, throwing rocks, waking me up in the middle of the still night. maybe you don’t miss me?
thirdly: i will struggle making conversation with you. i was always horrible at doing that before, but now it’s gonna be even worse. you will laugh and say i am being awkward and then i will laugh to try to cover the awkward, but it will always creep around the corners where i reside. i am hoping it can be just like before without any hesitation
fourthly: i am gonna show up to impress, probably in ripped jeans that show off my thighs. maybe you will be encapsulated by my features and maybe ask for my number that you never got. who am i kidding? from you stemmed my worst insecurities and the nights when i sobbed the loudest in the pouring rain. but i will still put my heart and my body out on the line, ready for objection and rejection of all kinds. maybe this time you will call me “pretty” or “pleasing.”
and lastly: life hasn’t been the same since i have seen you. i am afraid that i will act differently than you have been expecting. a different girl from a different world in a different form. don’t judge me for shifting my personality to fit in. whatever, as long as you say hi and we all have great recollections of such fantastic memories, i think it will all be ok. in the end, i am the only one who can control what i do and how i speak. i just can’t wait to see you and everyone else. and read my poems :D

why can’t i be as pretty and translucent as water?
the little tiny ripples
the mistakes
the errors- they are beautiful

when i am worried
the tears fall out of my eye sockets
the only part of me
that i find admirable

water, why can’t i be exactly like you?
melting into different shapes
and sizes
shimmering in the strawberry light?

why can’t i be as beautiful?

if you shatter into a million fragments fallen like a disco ball,
i will lift them with both my hands and put you back again.
sweating brow and unhappiness
i’ll take this weight from off your chest.
to live with the regret of losing you
would be the worst kind of eternal punishment.
it’s a vulnerable hour
coarse tongues and sharpened claws.
i awake to the shameless sound of your howling
bouncing off the walls
torn apart.
nightfall is brutal but i have the pieces of your heart
to wrap around my cold malnourished frame,
swallowing me whole involuntarily.
it’s all gonna be ok for me.

ships sinking
as you stare across the bay
memorize the smile on my lips
the hallucinations i’ve secretly kept

breathe me in, don’t spit me out
i’ve outcasted myself enough times for the both of us
don’t give me that solemn stare

take me back to the roller rink
to the depths of my heart i haven’t explored
to the party of yours that i missed

i’m so sorry for the past inconveniences that haunt you and quite visibly me
can we be friends again before the ship sinks into the void of indigo ocean water?
making you smile so often was quite possibly my greatest accomplishment

my stomach muscles retract
bruises on the beginnings of my ribs
i can’t fight the deafening freight train engine
blowing my hair wildly
as i try to cross the tracks
barbed wire enclosing me in
the factories around me crashing and burning
i think i saw the devil in the train’s headlights.
i can’t make up for lost times
caught in the convenient current
washing my body like an entity that doesn’t deserve to be cleansed
the train horn is ear-piercing
like off-key violins in a symphony
the blood pumping quickly
my redundant diction
i ask for permission
from conductors and fakers and liars and schemers
and apparently they’re all good people.
i deserve to be lost in the wide expanse
of a generation
i can’t accept.
shattered promises and limbs
sprawled out on the train yards
as the stopping vehicles sound off their alarms
i am alarmed
but i am stapled to the tracks
by a woman who told me that it’s not that hard to overcome your fears
how do you feel now
with me bleeding out of my eye sockets
all over your precious property?

and i don’t like the way i look
even though i treat others like they are shiny diamonds
pieces of the heart of the sea
high-priced rhinestones you pick up
in a jewelry shop
they might hate me
for they way my nose is shaped
or the color that protrudes out of my skin
why does it matter?
i’m not evil!
i promise.
so if you feel as if the world has too many people like me
too ugly, too bashful, too pale
i don’t know what to say.

everyone has forgotten what it means to love one another
humans act like loving one another is some super difficult puzzle to solve
and you only have to like certain pieces with certain colors.
but it’s not like that!
the world is one big scrabble game
with different letters to match, with different ideas to create a word

r, f, h, a, e, c, e, f, t, m, a, e, a

create a word  

h, a, t, e

ok, another word

r, a, c, e

c’mon,
something—better

f, l, a, m, e

i give up

did we forget love?

no matter who you are
why do you hate the people around you who cry the same tears after a terrible day?
why do you hate the people you are told to hate?
why do you hate the people who listen to the same bands as you, who live parallel lives to you
just with different foundation shades?
i am blamed for this, can’t you see!

everyone is some kind of gypped in these scenarios.
no, you’re not superior, you’re not superior,
no one’s superior!
get it into your skull!

there were people dining in a roller skating rink
i was a waitress in a tiny skirt
you saw me
possibly in the corner of your eye
i was pretending i didn’t see you
but it didn’t matter
cause you saw me.
you were so excited
for...me?
i thought you hated me
but you brought me over and
begged with your eyes for me
to extend my arms and
embrace you
i did, cause why not?
and then
it faded to black.
now it’s back to reality.
yes, it was just a dream.

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

she was dreams filled with dead trees and dying bees
she could fake tat her entire skin canvas and drive herself insane cause it looked better that way
older men impressed her, they acted like the ocean in which they caught her up in their tides and then she was trapped
she was twisted headphones pushed deep into her eardrums, blocking out the overwhelming echo of negative voices

she wore basic tops and regular ripped jeans to fit in with the rest of the bleach blonde “be fake friends” squad
but she only ever got glanced at
she was rambunctious, but cautious
she took refuge in greasy hair and cardboard cutouts
her bed sunk where she sat just like her heart did when she would feel worth and then it would disintegrate

she cowered in the dark, shadows looming over her, coming alive to terrify her
she was confusion and crises
her insecurities turned against her, choking her and catapulting her against the nearest wall
she was rabid social anxiety shouting at her 24/7, shaking her, berating her, changing her
hair fell in clumps in the shower, the faucet raining down on her, disguising her tears
she was short curly strung out brunette hair

she filled voids with smiles from people she didn’t even know
painted her walls black to cover up the darkness she could feel circulating in her soul
she was overgrown weeds corrupting luminous gardens, invading the soft soil buried beneath the rugged surface
a balancing act wavering on insanity and death, dithering whether to end it all or to let psychiatrists determine what her main issue is
she had an avoiding tendency, not wanting to hear the truth pour out of choosers’ mouths

she was admirable though, she gathered all her thoughts and apprehensions and threw them on paper using ink pens to secure its existence
she never let it get too out of hand, she returned to her safe haven; her room, where she would make her knuckles sore from bawling cause she would not strike someone other than herself for destroying her pride
it had to be her fault in the first place

she struggled, but she got up, climbed the cliff with jagged edges, arrived at summit with ****** ribs and scraped knees and hands rubbed raw
she swallowed the pain like it was some chalky tasting pill, not grieving herself, not mumbling one complaint
she’s strong
she’s proud
she’s accomplished
she’s alive
she’s who i am now

you hate me cause i don’t put my lips to yours in the dim light
i hate eye contact, low cut
dresses,
myself,
love and its victims, how nobody listens
amber heard, how her lawyer’s bad with words
i love vintage looking movies, love running,
despise losing
i love staying at home, i love being alone,
not running around acting like a dumb blond
i’m sick of stereotypes, reckless nights, crying in cabs,
drinking my life away
i hate the poltergeist, how he tries to be nice,
just call me ugly and slap me across my face
begging’s fine sometimes, if you’re right,
or if you wanna be immature (4 once)
i want to overdose, get super close to a boy who’s an easy choice
i want to be with someone
i want to kiss at night, but not have to fight,
or prove myself using my body
so if you wanna be like that, go ahead, but i’ll probably hit you in the head
try to be yourself not anyone else
and you’re not a martyr, you murderer,
quit trying
to
convince everyone that you’ve been scrutinized
when i’m gonna be told to lose my clothes and i’m just gonna have to laugh it off
when in all seriousness, i’m exhausted of this business
quick kiss and wish lists
and ‘get rid of her by the afternoon’
but if i could hold you or even get you, i wouldn’t be that true
i’d do anything to be yours
oh, i’m sick of this
remember it
i hate long awkward pauses and
all this applause
and
being passive-aggressive
maybe i hate to commit, i haven’t even been in a relationship
so keep your blue eyes away from mine, you won’t charm me this time
besides, you aren’t even real
i won’t beat myself up because you wanna love
me in a different light or with none at all
half of this doesn’t even concern you
you don’t even have empathy, huh, would you?
why would you care what i like?
when your hands aren’t still, they’re in for the ****, just drown me in this hazy white world
cause God knows i’m trying and i can’t help lying
beside you and to everyone i know
so
give me a second
you aren’t just heaven
slow your pulse
i’m not gonna give in
it’s ok to not
invade my privacy
don’t get on those carpet-burned knees
accept my offer or leave
besides, i am ugly-
don’t dim the lights
it’s 12:30 at night
and everyone’s on the balcony
so this is it for today
i will finally walk away
watch my ribs crack and me grabbing my neck
at least i came out alive
so if you wanna hate me for not putting my lips to yours
go ahead, be immature
i can just close the door
unless you want me to stay and be the greatest company
you’ve ever had
without going to bed-
that’s it, i’m leaving now
just something to think about
if you really want me-
heck, i don’t even want 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.

the wilderness is violent, and chaotic and
vapid
fireworks crackle in the golden brown sky
i don’t want to kiss in a busted-up mustang
with a cracked windshield
don’t want to bathe in beer or get drunk in love
unless you want to carve your name on my chest
leave me hanging on the drywall in your bedroom
or leave me outstretched in the dessert
left to my own vices
the heated sun burning marks on my body

from the day we became mirages of our inner selves
and our demons fought in ****** battles that ended in calamity,
we have hid each other in line breaks and kingdoms

the rising sun the single witness of our togetherness
and of the
blisters on my chest
from the tattoos you engraved on the foreign body of mine that didn’t give you the consent

scared of the dark and of fire swallowing me in the middle of the stubborn night
setting my closet ablaze
shirts turning to embers as i slept beneath the smoke
and we would have to stand by the mailbox
but someone was always left behind.
it usually ended there.

but my restlessness soon turned into a snowflake, falling from the chilled sky
onto the mailbox outside my house
and melting.

my writing is a gigantic forest fire of clichés
slowly charring in my eye view.
unlike the snowflakes that flew from
my brain.

and i’m still kind of scared of the looming darkness
and the creatures inside of my closet
still kind of worried about my house catching fire
and losing all my belongings
but what’s to that?
what do i actually own or belong to?

blue is blinded rage

fear lasts and i can’t breathe in this smoke…in this chemical kingdom…that they all love…smog and smoke and strangulation….and no one cares…?

cause elvis still kept singing jailhouse rock
even though he never went to jail
and the seas are still operating in the exact same way they always have been
celebrities still think they’re all that cause us feeble people put them on pedestals
the moon is still a refuge to lost stars spread upon the frivolous lands
fire still burns, even at night
even in your closest
even if you think you’re safe by your mailbox
even if people tell you that you’re worth
it

the smoke will envelop you
the smog will catch up to you
the ashes will become you


….
i’m afraid it will take away what i don’t have

i don’t want to be a woman
standing on a suitcase packed with psychedelics
losing her remaining mind in a ditch on the side of the deserted road.
i don’t want to be a woman
who’s taught to love herself but the others around her
are peach trees in summer
with lips plump and red
with tiny thighs that extend.
i don’t want to be a woman
with frail bones because the calcium deficiency caught her early
shouting for her knees that are weak
and for her obsolete brain waves that forget their true place.
i don’t want to be woman
following the trail until it suits her no more
creating a secret code then tossing it into the river
with jaguar eyes and a lopsided smile
she’s fine with letting new histories die in her arms.
i don’t want to be a woman
in all truth, i don’t want to be associated with anyone
i don’t belong in this body, in this mindset, in this world
every word on each paper is screaming at me to rebuke my inner organs and to become a knight without limits
because i don’t believe in speaking up for the sake of speaking up.
i don’t want to be a woman
or a man for that matter
i just want to exist in the forest fires of los angeles
the city with no angels
no reason to be endowed with this city of torches and absolute tomfoolery
but look where i am now
i discarded my existence for fame and rash decisions
i don’t want to be a woman, do you?
if i put on a halter top and show you more skin, would you love who i am or the flesh that is impure and shameful?
i don’t want forced views to be my condemnation
i don’t want your silk dresses and pearls.
sham admiration is not my master
nor will it ever be in my mind or my soul.

        i don’t want to be woman, do 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

tiny footprints in the grainy sand

-gunshots

tiny footprints in the salt licked sand

tiny footprints stay in the sand

until the tide washes away all the evidence

you treat me like no one else ever has
some foreign way to the usual circumstances.

the audacity to call me, a stranger, spoiled
people i don’t know acting like they know me

i will get to the king, i will rip off his garments
i will fling him onto the wall,
i will rip the peasant’s sufferings from his brittle bones
he will fear me
and i will wear his crown

he has always tried to minimize me into an object
a hideous figure lurking in the midnight
i have been wrung out like a cloth

I BLEED THE BLOOD OF YOUR ENEMIES
WHAT KIND OF A SAVIOR ARE YOU,
YOU DEMONIC FORCE SQUEEZING MY FINGERS TILL THEY ARE SWOLLEN
YOUR QUEEN SHOULD TOPPEL OVER IN THE MOAT YOU’VE BUILT AROUND THESE WALLS
YOU STONE GIANT,
FALL,
FALL,
FALL

i am surfing on the waves of independence
so constructed, out of my own weapons
the fire burns and my legs keep aching
but i will get to the king

i will make him drink of the wine and puke out his guts
so his loyal servants can see he’s not perfect
i will whisk up a potion so deadly
he’ll forget the temptress’s melody
ringing in his ears;
where is Persephone?

she went to the churchyard and sat and screamed
in her puddles of self-wallowing

i will get to the king
i will rip his heart clean out
and place it onto the dining table where he was feared and fed by the same exact servants
i will scrape the blood from off my knuckles  
and dance around playfully

and his queen will survive
because she has no responsibilities, only looking pretty
which isn’t classified as a problem

i will schmooze with his friends
i will think of a ruse to manipulate him into losing his structure
bound by the future
he never will consider
and i will wear his crown
perched on his throne
in my white linen clothes
just a careful creature
creating plot lines with my ideas
he’ll fall like a feckless being
and i will be reigning supreme
over dreams, over kingdoms and avid
over gaining more power
yet i won’t let it devour
me into thinking i’m a
deity, poised like a particular person
who knows where to go when
the people don’t know
what has happened to them
or their (king)dom

i will wear his crown on my head filled with brunette hair
soft, strong, and explosive
deadly nightshade inside of his bed
while i stand in the corner
immune to his shivers
and quivering

               i will get to the king

you make me think of unfulfilled promises
words that were never
spat out
onto the ground where the
HOMELESS lady and her
twelve children lay
in the dusk of the merciful day

you make me think of pennies skipping
and you used to smell of cinnamon
essential oils
that i know do
nothing for any
part of you
i guess that’s just what
your mom wanted

and i miss the future we imagined
together
cause although
it never happened
it feels as if it still weighs on my
heart
the responsibility to keep you alive
not in photography
but in real life

i miss when we hung out
even those times when i said “no”
should have
been
the most confident “yes”

i’ll still see you in fresh
blooming roses
in tennis shoes hanging
and walking on the tiles
in woods
deep woods with snow
lying softly
as if it wants to be gone
in the color white
and the color blue
a royal blue
a dark color of the deepest ocean
i don’t know if i would crack the ice
where you went fishing
i would find the body of yours
and save it

cause i KNOW for
CERTAIN
that you wouldn’t dare pick
me out of the
frozen water
you would leave me there
            
                                               forever

it’s waltzing in the supermarket
delicate voices
as the beach appears from beyond the mountains
it’s twilight supper
picnic table in the middle of the open atmosphere
the world takes tiny breaths
as it watches us twirl around the living room
laughing the calories out of our bodies

it’s laying under starlight
seeing you, seeing mars, seeing jupiter
from our naked eyes and our telescopes
it’s gradually blending together
like a perfect puzzle piece that finally found its place
the moon decorates our skin with her majestic craters
we swing on porch swings as the crickets chirp
glowing meadow in the front of our yard

i’ve dreamt of meeting the one,
with gum stuck in my teeth
wingspan of twenty feet
you see the crinkles and absolutes
i was always so sure of myself
now i’m wasting away
into the drains of my shower
would someone pick me up
and fix up my hair for me
and clean the shampoo off the patronizing white walls
that force me to cower before them?
i’ve dreamt of meeting the one,
with spit on my tongue
and saliva inside my mouth
you’d start to maneuver my wavy hair behind my ears
inside the grocery store closest to the farthest part away from home
love is not overgrown like i am

it breathes in motion
it waltzes in supermarkets at two in the afternoon and isn’t afraid of losing a little pride
it sings on a long windy road above the beach in a red convertible that sets hair into a frenzy
it belongs, it shimmies, it blossoms

i saw a comet from my bedroom window
and i might have seen you (the one) sitting outside in the middle of the meadow, hand on the back of your head, gazing up at the clarity-inducing midnight sky
i took a mental picture of you and saved it in a folder of the one thing i have never experienced; love

          and it contained us dancing in a    supermarket, jumping into a saltwater pool, and holding our hands up in the red mustang or convertible while scream singing along with the radio

oh, i dreamt of meeting the one last night in the autumnal breath of the universe
i brought a checkered tablecloth to place on the picnic table,
i hope you fall in love with me under starlight
           so i can say, i lived a real life fairytale at least once in my life


….and it was the greatest one i have ever heard of in my sixteen years of life

imagining through the blue light on my screen
whispering profanities at my low life presenting personality
having had brunch with my cousin and my aunt pretending to be more of less of myself
it’s good to know they won’t know my full truth and personality and quirks since they wouldn’t come around anymore if they did
keeping secrets to secure family lines or at least the manifested faulty ties inside my mind
getting more comfortable with the fact that people shouldn’t have identities
never wanting people to know who i truly am or what i stand for

when we are younger we want everyone to be our friend and we don’t judge with cold steel eyes
we go up to the nearest person and we start playing with toys together
of course, i never did since i was the shyest kid ever, walking into kindergarten for the first time was traumatizing for me
kids don’t think about things such as slim waists or “too much” kinds of personalities
i don’t think i was aware of my identity till kids starting calling me ugly and saying they didn’t like me anymore
i came home crying, turning on the shower, knowing i wasn’t good enough for my peers
terrified for the first time in my life that i wouldn’t be accepted and i would be the bullied one on the outskirts
always wanting to be popular and liked was on my mind constantly, but at least i was being  
myself

nowadays, i hide away from people, knowing that when they speak to me i won’t be able to hold a conversation, knowing that they wouldn’t like the version of me that is embedded deep into my skin
my identity lies in my hands, manipulated to feel established, fiddled with to earn head nods

when i am older, in the partying age, someone might want to experiment touching my skin and creating divots where they placed their heavy fingers
might only wanna know what time i go to bed and purposely make me skip it, won’t wanna know what my favorite place to eat is after a long and strenuous cry, won’t wanna know why my identity is so secretive
won’t wanna know the flaws on my body that my mind has scrutinized for years upon years
just like harry styles said in fine line, “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.”
we are so body and pleasure focused, knowing anyone anymore is like finding a needle in a haystack

sometimes i can be afraid to meet new people because they might not like me or i might never show them my true colors although the latter is a me problem
i’ll make friends who won’t know my favorite band and memorize all their song lyrics like i did when the anxiety was pumping into my veins rapidly
i’ll make friends who will come and go and get buried and get taken advantage of and maybe i won’t know their backstory because they might have chosen to hide their identity one day just like i did

proving your place in this world is exhausting and having a couple friends sprinkled in every capital city is soul *******
it starts to make you feel like these people are only around so you can raise your social status in the midst of robotic people with plastic instead of skin because they always hated their flaws and no one ever said they were beautiful and that it was actually society that shoved botox into their faces
wrinkles aren’t ugly, they are aging factors
stress isn’t avoidable, you can’t pile wax in your face to make it all come to a close

we stop being innocent and thinking the world is pure in middle school, some even earlier
we realize santa doesn’t come down a chimney and give us gifts every year, it’s our literal parents
our parents sell and tell us lies and we believe them because naivety hovers inside our brains
no wonder adults always call kids stupid and inept, they sold us detrimental lies in the first place, telling us to believe in magic, saying that the easter bunny actually came around when we should be talking about Jesus, it’s literally His holiday, God forbid

identity sprouts from human beings desiring to put each other into tiny boxes
“evil, shady, kind, jerky, angsty.”
no wonder everyone’s so ******* up nowadays, they just wanted to be accepted into these tiny labels and they never did so instead they cut themselves and slit their throats
their guts might be considered to be conforming, so the jousters will leave you on your death bed alone, in silence, smiling in ghost form, so happy you made the decision to just cut the world off
some of us aren’t that devoted

i have had plenty of different identities in my life, but never once have i loved myself
even if their lyrics holler “self love” i won’t be able to relate to that
good for everyone who can, it’s just not me
look—right there, what is me?
who am i?
in this world, what should i be, what identity does society want (need) me to be represented by?
but
whoever i am, i hate her

you like the wild type
rides in your car
lipstick stains on your leather seats
beer breath
headbangers playing guitar
tiny skirts
playful smirks
driving 100 miles in a 70
tabletop dances
soft fingertips
bloodshot cherry red eyes

but honey,
i spend my days in bed
dreaming of love,
butterflies and honeysuckles
my shorts are not too short
i don’t gaze longingly at random men
in public
i listen to boy bands
don’t leave lipstick stains
in stranger’s cars
i get to know people first

you like the wild type
but you could always give me a try
i can be wild in some ways
like going camping
and kissing for a few seconds
tackle me in the haystack
hold me like you wish you
never would have touched anything else
we don’t need late night ***** sessions
after getting obliterated
we can share hotel rooms
and sleep in separate beds
to keep it cutesy
road trips across the country
off-roading
while obeying the speed limit
contentment spreading across the flowers
and it reaches the sky

you know,
i’m not the original wild type
but i can go wild and crazy for you anytime