mattress stained with blood
nightgown hanging from a crooked branch
you look as if you’ve died and never got to Heaven
because your toes are stoved and purplely black
and i set my house on fire because your touch already feels like flames
it felt familiar
and although i hate your guts
somehow i escape my house unscathed in a plaid skirt in the middle of the midwest
and i assume you’ve relocated me from the scene of your crime
i scream into the smoky air
your sentences choke me—continually repulsed by the audacity you have to speak.
disappear, you vapid creature.

did this love make you weak, cower and plead?
or did it bring you depth and reason?
i’ve been adored by few
with stolen egos and smart lies
i don’t mean to compromise your beliefs
but can you see me and you start to dive into an ocean of your deepest fears?
do you see us moving without our eyes with just our souls and do you think we were made to question every feeling we feel?
shouldn’t we just dive head first into an ocean of our deepest devotions and leave our doubts astray on the sandy beach?
when the wave had swallowed me, i had forgotten your touch
now every fingerprint looks and feels like yours.
i compromised my heart for i feared i would have to stomp the ember out before it even separated from the fire’s edge.
should we dive with no reservations, no hesitations, no preconceived notions?
we are tidal surges, we are tsunamis
afraid to unleash our full potentials
and what a shame to deny our natures so defiantly.

don’t be a stranger he said to me,
strange how i feel like a stranger
speaking my own words, telling my own stories.
strange how i feel paralyzed,
strange how my muscles don’t move out of habit,
strange how i’m lonely in my own mind.
don’t be a stranger he said to me,
even stranger that i feel grateful
for something so minuscule.
strange how once i was lost
and couldn’t comprehend being found.
even stranger how someone’s once kind words became daggers,
myself being the one to make them as such.
don’t be a stranger he said to me,
the strangest thing since i feel so weak.
every week,
a reminder that my thoughts aren’t pretty, my love not craved.
the strangest thing is i cannot carry the world,
as silly as it sounds, i know.
the strangest thing is i expect superhuman out of myself
when i expect nothing out of everyone else.
don’t be a stranger he said to me,
don’t be a passerby on the road, putting your head down as you move by.
don’t be afraid to show someone you love them,
don’t be afraid to take life by the reins and make yourself matter,
don’t be embarrassed of the love you are giving, of the kindness you are gifting,
don’t be alone when you know someone deeply cares for your calls,
don’t shove and sulk and make a mess,
don’t make yourself feel sorry for yourself,
don’t die alone,
don’t exit with silence,
don’t regret what you feel,
don’t think your life was anyone’s mistake,
don’t be a stranger.
please, i beg.

how was the picnic in the wide expanse of country land?
did you cry with your mother and beg her to agree with you?
the garden withers, the flowers wilt
beneath your callused hands

in the pile of firewood, what a sign to see
it was your jawline, sharp and refined
you bled from your eyeballs
blue, the color of your bones

fountain of truth is visited by you
you toss rocks inside, pennies and wishes
do you see the reflection of your firm shoulders in the water that tells no lies?
that one woman on the street corner gasped when you tied your hair back
but you gave her a reason to weep
twiddling your thumbs
you undermined your fragile expertise

you don’t get to be me.

you don’t get to wear my nightgown so you can smile pridefully as i bleed into my knees
you don’t get to use that vocal authority to silence my concern
you don’t get to laugh in spite of my own definitions, confined in your delusions, all happy and carefree
you don’t get to disillusion me into worshiping your inconsistency and make me loyal to your sovereignty
the sky knows you’re lying, the sky knows your smile hides piranha teeth
the earth knows your structure, the earth knows your mortality

you don’t get to be someone like me.

silky skirts and powdered makeup and sparkly high heels
you even start to consider how that makes me feel?
to feel undermined inside my own mind, inside my own fibers of being
twisted force, villainy, how does it feel to surrender to a falsity, a bogus claim, a nonsense meaning?
how does it feel to steal my countryside, my silhouette, my solid truth, my skin, my body?

you don’t get to be me.
you don’t.

even for a glimpse of a minute, when you think you’ve conceived it, it died
the freedom came crawling, came screaming, came then leaving, starting shooting profanities out of the barrel of a gun
you still pirouetted, ballerina in shoes too small for your foot
fireworks went off when you sighed
it’s powerful to sabotage the weak
it makes you the king of hypocrisy

you don’t get to me.

you don’t get to be me.

white lies in a tall cornfield
roll with fallacies in deep wet swamp with alligators
you punched one a few months ago, so hyper aggressive so ruthlessly

you don’t get to be me.

and for a second there, you nearly had everyone fooled
if i hope hard enough, that’ll be how it turns out
everyone will scowl at themselves for participating
adamant with fury, so much so that you burned down the village
resorting to pillage in a mysterious war effort
you don’t get to ransack my belongings and claim them as yours, as yours to claim, as yours to change
up in flames when a simple contemplation becomes your reason for existing

you don’t get to be me.

how sad is it that now my bones are stolen from my coffin to make room for the aspersions that you cast on me?
in decease, there is
there is solace in that

you don’t get to be me.

who thought the stab wounds would ever go away?
from the dawn of the earliest day
to the now
to the plague
was it ever gonna improve?
will it ever improve?
     cause people still take over bodies
     they can’t help their temptations
     they have to hurt others to make up for their      
     pathetic lives  
a few decades ago
there was slaughtering of the innocent
hearts lay dying, souls corrupted
     there were bombs and heavy breathing
     children having hard times sleeping
     guns to heads that haven’t developed
     entirely
and people still spray chemicals
in their “opponent’s” mouths
their tongues breathe fire
their lips so proud
     oh, what have we made?
     is this a good thing?
     i know this is definitely not ok
but oh, what can we do?
we are so doomed
they said humankind wouldn’t last longer than
a full moon
i guess they were right, whoever uttered those
words
how can the world improve if all of its occupants can’t change?
why do we all breed hate?
why is it almost gonna be too late?
    i wish God hadn’t trusted us with his gifts
   we bulldoze them over
   we give them a cold shoulder
  
t h e  f l o o d  s h o u l d  h a v e  j u s t  
w i p e d  u s  a l l  o u t

or maybe it did
and the only thing left
were the demons
  hungry
ready
to
prowl


and you know, people are still justifying murdering babies so we really are doomed

i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword
it punctured my skin as well
and with that blood, i wrote your name,
not in times new roman,
but in my own special font
i cried over the torn parts of my flesh
but we all grow out of our tears,
don’t we?
after i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword,
they climbed up into my brain cavities
and they took more
than i ever self sabotaged out of me
i carried my fallen blood in the suitcase
i will bury myself alive in one day
my demons spill secrets instead of blood
from their dreary corpses
and i rapidly try to gather them
in my dismay
if you write them away, they just come back stronger
because words aren’t indelible,
they can be erased
if you try to make peace with them,
they take too much of you
and label it a treaty
when it is honestly just tyranny
call it by no other name
if you start a war,
they start a revolution
and soon they have the entire universe up against you,
and no matter what anyone says,
you can’t beat the universe
you aren’t the avengers
you can’t do any of these things
and expect them to dissipate
and dissolve into the snowfall
you have to take yourself out
with the weapon you chose to ****** them in cold blood with
you have to bestow a double-edged sword
and you have to willingly sacrifice your entire self and more
cause unlike seasons, demons never leave
unless you **** their host
here goes nothing

now i am doubting that i will see you
it seems way way too good to be true
march third is too close
i could wear it like a scarf
i thought i wanted to see your dim lit face
but now i am nervous
and i am stapling my fingers
anticipating everything
escalating the situation

ever been anxious about seeing someone you’ve known for ten years before?
well, i am
and you might not even be there
might not want to waste your time on such time consuming activities
i wouldn’t blame you
i have never been interesting let alone stand alone material

now i am contemplating and overthinking
why can’t i just stop torturing myself?
this is getting out of hand
this is over some stupid reunion
this is getting so overwhelmingly nerve-racking
and it’s wailing so loud
like a siren in the sea
that you wouldn’t want to die for
or get eaten alive by
it’s so excruciating
the pain i feel when i relapse
and when i fixate on the silly things

help.
that isn’t a request
that is a demand
a constant reminder that i am spiraling
and that you will never help.
and that i will never regain my strength
to climb up the steep mountain

help.
i am so serious this time
the days are getting longer
and you are getting farther away from me
please help.
especially since this is all because i am worried that you might not come
show up and look me in the eyes
or wonder what i am doing on such a perplexing thursday night

now i am doubting that you will even show
so i am lining this heart of mine with barricades so no foreigner can get inside
come if you can
if you have the time
but i won’t cry
if you only stay for a little while
just stay.

the dusty old school rock cds on the cracked cubby top
brush it off, but some still remains
coughing a bit up before setting it down to reminisce
it all reminds me of
the way the Polaroid camera snapped the life outta me
how every word you said was so heavy that i started sinking
how we were headbanging for kicks and started becoming wild creatures
how the radio cringed and squealed and how we still sang every word to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
how the guitar riffs are just pain coming out into art
bursting with meaning and passion

the dusty old school rock cds sit there, stationary on that same cracked cubby top
and we recall the past as if it was some life-changing yesterday

dynamite with purple eye
bags
sweating through the steamy night
glad
you came here with your raspberry lies
mad
in stuck suburban side
tad
bit on the fiery side
like
dynamite
kryptonite
tnt
confide in me
lucid dreams
paranoid screaming through tiny teeth
sad
you didn’t want to plummet
back
into purple eye
bags
dynamite
drags
on cigarettes
and chloroform eye-
lids
bad
luck and stuck with dynamite
kryptonite
explosive nights
raspberry lies
hazardous tries
and over the top
mad
ness
and the fear of being a reject
with eruptive tendencies
toxic needs
and a little bit of tnt
lack
of relatability
and dynamite
mad
this world is too
sad
to be blowing stuff up right now
but
glad
there isn’t a frenzy of deadbeats
only purple eye
bags
and would
haves
and tnt

by nightfall, i am just a creature.
of habit one could say or
of countless wild misgivings.
a creature with her hands clutched at her stomach
that moves up and down
when the breath begins—
she is human
much to her dismay.
she claws at the human form she was
blessed—no, cursed—with.
the pale moon stares with fluttering open eyes.
i wish i could just hide
in the bushes and wait for
some other creature
to lessen the ache
that prances in my bones
like leaping frogs that never tire.
much to my dismay,
there are many nightfalls where
others do not question their positions,
do not wonder why or
pine for
another
body, a warmer climate to indulge themselves in.
i am but a creature
whose body is battered and sick,
where illness spreads throughout.
i regurgitate any satisfaction
that lingers
a bit too long for comfort.
this mouth shuts slowly
but opens again
and all the creatures of habit slip out again
from its opening

and the rest flood from the stomach walls
and i am not human anymore—
rather something purging itself of the danger
of its own grip
from the inside
out.

all i do is write and hope you call.
sweaty hands on shaky pens.
the dreamworld i imagine has you in it,
but i cannot touch it or it crumbles.
and what kind of sanctuary did i build for myself acting like you’ll keep reaching out till your lungs start to shrivel?
my own imposter syndrome kills me
from the inside out
and i’m sorry i never quite saw myself in the light you envisioned.
all i do is write and watch the wall.
imagine it being my friend
imagine it being unable to punch a hole in
but just as it is, my doubts come hurling;
there’s a hole in your stomach the size of my avoidance.

i hide without the possibility of seek,
without the capability of you finding me
in the deep deep woods of my heart.

we are echoes to each other’s empty corridors.
you bounce off the walls and the noise is gone before i speak.
but if i just speak up, will you hear my throat scratch,
will you wait till the next little creak?
if i chose to find my way out of the hallway,
will you just be standing staring at a wall?
or will you come and find me
collecting my screams
and committing them to memory
so that the echoes are just reminders of
what you’re truly searching for?

all i do is write and hope you call.
hope you sit and remember the nights
and contemplate diving headfirst into what terrifies you.
hope you use reveries to daydream about me,
hope you patch up the holes you’ve received.

hope the indecision doesn’t haunt me
doesn’t echo in my corridor
doesn’t call with your voice in the darkness.
hope i never mistake it for your tender care,
hope i never come running at it with bared teeth and teardrops,
wishing it dead.
hope i never become the bitter villain that forgets how to love
and both hands become weapons
pointed and primed
waiting for someone’s weakness to define their demise.

all i do is write and hope you call
and lose my mind thinking of you giving your all
to someone who won’t reciprocate it,
someone who’s still hoping you’ll search for them
even though they do not wish to be found.

las cortinas cierran
el escenario está vacía
yo miro la luna en el fondo
estoy hablando tontería
estoy llorando en el piso
es un acto de un solo hombre
así que el lugar está sombrío
y nadie está haciendo nada

eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
she’s cute and she’s cheerful, she leaps around to a familiar song
oh, but eliza has changed
she’s pale in the face
she’s got goosebumps from the cold rain
eyes welling with tears from the salt she poured in them

eliza, she used to be such a joy to be around
oh, but now she can’t keep a conversation without her hands sweating
her nihilistic views cloud her intuition

she’s like charcoal on a whiteboard
she won’t go away, she haunts my every hesitation
she’s blocking my inhalation
she was like a butterfly in my hand
and now she’s ash from blazing land

       such a letdown, such a change in plans

eliza, she glimmers like sequins in the fog
sapphire eyes in hot tubs
but her sadness is her overwhelming weakness
it envelops her in its hurricane
she creaks like old wooden stairs under the weight of her own
she temporarily lives in midnight moonlight sorrow
with weak bones and a crestfallen shadow
burying herself in the emptiness of solitude
the january blues stalking her every move  

oh, eliza,
i miss you
who you were, all that you did
i miss your surefire smile
your continuous laugh
your sweet disposition
your hilarious jokes and the positive halos radiating about your head

now she’s volatile
as wild and insecure as an adolescent child

she falls from the stage onto a bed filled with tears
(she calls it a water bed, she tries to remain optimistic)  
(all she knows is that the rivers that flood from her eyes show that she is not completely numb)

the spring sentiments used to be her constant
she used to have scraped kneecaps and a clueless exuberance
solely a bandage could heal her

oh eliza,
have i taken you for granted?
have i stripped you of your merit,
leaving you gagging and slumping in the rainfall?
your irises were streaked with summer’s blues
now they’re just stained from the blue ocean tears you cried

oh eliza,
what happened to your sheer happiness,
leaving a movie theater with the main character’s personality?
did the pounding in your chest come from the insecurities i ****** upon you with a thousand pounds of force?
i miss your cathartic release, the eclipse of your moon striped body on my bedroom wall directly in front of the place i lay

she’s casted shadows over the bridge she walks across to sabotage her footing
she sits with her mouth open in frozen silence
trying to capture the warmth that waltzes around her

oh eliza,
am i to blame for this destruction?
your lugubriousness now looming over the flowers on meadows you once danced on
i miss who you were, but mostly who you won’t show
the harsh judgement gathered like dust along your body
you haven’t been you, eliza, for years



eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
listen to her song
for her worst secrets are held in breakable silence

in a floating metal box in the air,
i put things into perspective.
like our friendship.
a fading crisis murdered by a mistake.
sharp blades twisted against allies.
like words, exhausted and spoken with the threat of misinterpretation.
without your perfect band t-shirts and childlike bickering,
it was an empty place.
you only knew two AC/DC songs,
when i asked you to name three,
but that’s totally ok,
i wouldn’t have known or cared either.
friendly waves and funny conversations;
miss them most when there’s no one to talk to.
we starved the host and shattered slowly, but brutally.
against the ocean’s mighty waves, we were washed with white sea foam onto different beaches
on different coasts,
on different inhabited islands.
we lied hazily on tanned sand until the sun burnt holes in our dresses and melted us.
i search for you on the humid land mass,
calling your name into the neptune blue sky.
it’s always hope a new day, fire lit and burning, but nothing to come and rescue me.
scurrying in the hot sand praying for even just a mirage of you.
but we were swept away
to different islands,
unaware of the current,
unaware of the consequences of simple mistakes.
i’m sorry we had to burn out this way.
so slow and heavy.
so sorry, emery.

we spent our summers in a daze made up of sugarcane and promises lost in the wind
the heat soared above us, free and untamed
we didn’t ***** our fingers on the thorns
we swung till the sun pierced our skin
sunburnt and snakelike peeling specimens
we danced in the ashes, a feasible effort
baked in our button-ups,
American flag wielders, Jesus lovers
half deceased in a pile of audacity
dresses on girls with the actual embodiment of the word
we were outright outliers on the brink of independence
we were broken, but we felt like stained glass
a beautiful portrait of veneration
they showed our faces to the president and he sighed with relief
some days we laughed until we got sore
under water fountains and jet blue skies that made us forget our melancholy
and sometimes we swore we would never speak again
the sun was burning holes in our soles
we breathed in the smoke, it felt holy in my lungs
we regretted to regret if we would ever lose this charm
but i guess we all figure out, you have to pretend until you’re gone
we were still indigo sparks in the Fourth of July sky at midnight
we saw the statue as it beamed for opportunity
and we smiled back in common courtesy
i even showed my teeth
in the summer we were folk songs
word of mouth enchantresses
flying high above the canopy
we remember when the piano started to weep
the sweat on our brows used to slide down our cheeks
for sore eyes they would’ve looked like teardrops
though time has passed
through a narrow mindset
i still remember how the roads got wet on a Saturday morning
and the sprinklers quit
because their jobs were fleeing
it’s crazy she’s dead now
summer dreams only fade
we lost the look in our beady eyes
i missed the last train to freedom
hearing my name be called by you was like having my heart ripped out in front of me
but for summer she doesn’t recall such a memory
i would’ve loved to hold your sweaty red hand for the last time knowingly
as the season set and invited the breeze
for now it’s just like a reverie
a hazy afterthought
splitting through the atmosphere like a comet
it wasn’t glory, it was gory
the summer sunset stuck in our frizzy hair
we lost the feeling we chased for so long
behind an alley that smelled of redemption and cinnamon
an island lost in legend
a girl with loose intentions
whose fists fight hyperbolic battles
sweaty recollections of a faint moment in space  
a storm weathers
forgiveness is flowering in my palms
and we used to be so good at that

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.

i’m alone on new year’s eve,
starved of life,
been living off of fleeing thrills.
i’ve been hungry,
lacking the flavor that lingers
on my tongue.
completely distraught,
all up in my head like i owe myself a debt.
the new year’s eve moon is absent,
but i need her;
she understands the length of my despair,
and she places hope in my palm.
nothing along the horizon,
just the vague glow of the Christmas lights from the passive neighbors.
unsure of what new year dawns,
if this one
will knock me off my feet,
waltz with me until daybreak
touches my cheek,
or leave me astray on a bustling city street
where the largest emptiness isn’t even in my own twisted heart.
and perhaps this year
will taint me,
paint me multicolored,
until my own shade of individuality cannot be seen.
fragile or elusive,
a patient lover,
a reckless ******,
a kiss that stays for longer than thought.
bigger shoes to fill,
new attitudes to convey,
new deals to follow through on,
old ones that have never been finished,
losing the fears of the past ages
that burned
down towns, left them flat.
if the new year unfolds like a film reel
with an unreliable narrator,
i’ll likely fail to look up at the moon,
lose my direction,
start believing the superstitions
with all my soul.
don’t leave me stuck on a bench
at the kitchen table,
writing instead of letting the world handle the anxieties for a while.
leave me alone on the edge of
a new platform
that makes feet sink past their comforts,
ankle deep in something i cannot control or hold with both hands or penetrate.
there may be new avenues to walk down
just to turn back around again in,
kinds of sabotage that
only i know how to bring upon the only thing control can control.
and new year,
don’t leave me alone no more,
i never wanted to be afraid,
watching the moon disappear like
all good friends do,
and have a stapled tongue
so that i cannot speak for those
who wish to
be heard
by someone,
anyone.

not an evergreen,
staying alive has never had simplicity.
i’m angry that i made myself like this,
trimmed my branches,
thought things were not meant to stick to me.
i am angry that i thought
my savior is some wanderlust women
unfit for the journey,
jealous of the destination.

not an evergreen,
i cannot live without water.
the cold pursues me,
prancing in the unbearable wind.
there’s salvation on the edge of the horizon,
some soft meadow to lay my head upon.
along the line of trees, finding is impossible.
somehow not small enough
to be cut down and taken home and,
without a doubt,
i am not tall enough to see.

listen, i know everyone dies
it’s inevitable
so why do we cry when our loved ones die?
i don’t understand this world
this mandatory thing
that happens no matter what good or bad decisions you make
i am not a nihilist
so i am not saying ‘everybody dies, and nothing means anything’
i want to be someone’s centerfold
i need
someone to miss me when i am gone
i need
to be held in the arms of someone who relishes in the time spent with me
someone to go to church with me
love God like me
love life sometimes like me
die with me
cause everybody dies

i met Good
oh, she was a beauty
she was so perfect, everything almost felt rehearsed
she sat down beside me, and handed me a cup of tea
and complimented the shirt i was cautious about wearing in fear of seeming unprofessional
her voice was smooth like silk
and her laugh was sweet like cotton candy and jolly like Santa Claus
she only told me fabulous news
news about how much she loved the world and how many people provided her joy
how a kindhearted gentleman saved a baby deer from a rabid bear
and she spoke with such eloquence that i couldn’t help but listen attentively
and i smiled
and smiled
the whole time we held the engaging conversation
when she and i bid our goodbyes, she kissed me on both cheeks and said i had beautiful decadently smelling hair
i smiled again for good measure
then i left

i met Evil
he grimaced as soon as he saw me
he seemed alarmed that someone wanted to have a word with him
i sat down without speaking and i let him start things off
he glared at me with discontent and didn’t crack a smile once
his judgy eyes shone on me and i felt insecure and confused
his voice was raspy and it sounded like he smoked frequently
his lips would curl up in disgust if i looked at him strangely, so i just watched the water bubble and churn in my cup
his body language showed malicious intent
but his eyes had some kind of spark in them
a light, a blue/violet light that overshadowed the deep dark brown eyes he bore
underneath it all, i am pretty sure Evil is just misunderstood
he isn’t all bad sometimes
he isn’t loving the bloodbath twenty four seven
so once i got up and whispered in his ear
“you aren’t all what you are cracked out to be, so just put the beating and stabbing devices away please.”
and i left without looking back

i met Indifference
now he was a doozy
he was nervous and shaky
it was painfully obvious, but i overlooked it
he half smiled sometimes
fake smiled to make me feel validated after i told a few icebreaking jokes
but sometimes he would watch me with a scornful face
so i fixed my posture and stopped conversing for a while, then began again
he never gave me an opinion or a complete response
it would always be “maybe,” “only time can tell,” and “i don’t really know.”
the vagueness of his disdainful answers fascinated me
how can someone remain neutral about everything?
he wasn’t at all like anyone i had ever met
his face was always neutral
his reactions never negative nor positive
and he showed confusion when i said things that were too passionate or too far sided
so i asked him a quick question
“what do you think is the right way? Evil or Good?”
his eyelids quivered and he shrugged with little effort or desire
“i don’t know.
i think we are all evil and good in our own ways.
you may think a rabbit is good by eating grass, but you are bad for eating animals, another living organism.
evil cannot be defined by bad where as good cannot be defined as the only way.
we are all mixtures of both.
therefore, that is why i am Indifferent.
i choose to be everything
and after all, good comes from wanting to be loved and valued in society, whilst evil mostly comes from being misunderstood and i am none of the sort.”

existential crisis- i am alone
sinking, then floating
in mute and pine green tones
the forest of secrets
screaming in pillows
and losing grip on the moving platform
desert crying
sidewalk skipping
falling
and bleeding
internal deprecation
hitting my own fingers with text books
to make them stop admitting my mistakes
stop misusing the “right” words
the break of dawn over the woods
using the moon as a defense mechanism
losing a helper
a security system
and i think it’s time i run back to you
unless you don’t want me there with you
i will just be numb until you call out my name
in the tortured heat
i will be there if you need me

i imagine falling in love is like watching the rain fall onto the porch, dampening the surface
i imagine it is sweet, like drinking soda and downing smarties in the embrace of a summer day
it must feel tingly, like your whole body is on fire
it must be stone cold yet hot as blazes
it must ache and churn and screech and beg you to quit, like a silly addiction

i imagine falling in love is like tumbling headfirst from the sky, diving into a world of the unknown, but you know that’s where freedom lies
i imagine it is fluffy, marshmallow, cotton candy type
it must be fabulous, must be scary
it must feel like the world is crashing down, but you are saved by your parachute
it must tear your insides open and make you scream for mercy

i imagine falling in love is like dancing alone in a rose garden, holding hands with the perfectly positioned statues
i imagine it is heavy, like a weight you almost cannot lift, but you manage
it must be fairytale like, almost as if you are captured in a screenplay, so you act in a Hollywood way
it must be light, like floating on top of clouds or touching silk that softens your skin and removes your scars
it must be troubling, having something so momentous happen to you without any sort of control

i imagine falling in love is like staring into someone’s eyes and finding their soul and reaching inside of their eye sockets to pull it out
i imagine it is fruitful, one nudge and it is a cherry blossom tree, evergreen and forever spring
it must be quick witted, it must happen so fast you don’t even notice the difference
it must be rapid, like heart beating in the middle of the night when life creeps up on you
it must be filling, like eating mounds of bread and filling up before the main course arrives
it must be everlasting, the feeling, the rush of a glance shooting straight to the gut, to the heart, to the veins
it must be enveloping, dragging every part of you into its embrace

i imagine falling in love is like smiling in pure silence, feeling your reflexes calm because this is what your body is supposed to do
i imagine it is perfect, perfect in a way that isn’t entirely godlike, but it feels like perfection to such joyful eyes
it must be like leaping and bounding in fresh magnolia fields, erasing the anxiety and the pressure of society, just so you can be free and flap your hummingbird wings
it must be like finding home and never feeling lost ever again
no matter the circumstance

i am a dying wish—yours to be specific.
the wish dying in your arms every time the sun makes its rotation around the Earth.

there’s no life in me; i am a carcass strewn over the highway,
crushed and mangled and torn to shreds.

what if, if after every pound i lost,
i lost more of myself?
a skinny figure who changed herself to please a piece of glass.

when you said my name, i felt like you would leave me in a cornfield unconsciously anonymous,
yet you streaked my sky.
i’m shedding tears like skin, like burdened rain
seeping from the clouds on a day the world decides to die a little.

when the night is still, my muscles tense up.
i’ve been waiting for the memory of you to remember me,
dancing shameless on the ledge,
unafraid to look childish, knowing you were the first to make the empty void cease.

wide-eyed at the ceiling, losing two strands of hair in the shower, mailing you my address, begging you to stay.
you won’t—i won’t let you.

i am a foggy backroad, you cannot see through me.
all you’d see is a figure, clutching her stomach,
pinching herself for eating two meals,
for not resisting the temptation to feed the pressing hunger.

in your mind, the quietness i exude is only when my brain is confined.
there are shapeless memories and words that float until my arms are strong enough to grab them.

what if after every pound i lost, i lost more of myself,
drifting away into an unwelcoming atmosphere, unfit for someone as bewildered as me?

what if i love you and i don’t know what to do with that
so i write on a night with no moon visible from my bedroom window
and i lie awake wondering whether you are dreaming of me or whether you love me too
or whether we are nothing
but two memories floating,
remembering the other as their favorite one?

fear,
an emotion i feel
on a daily basis
looking such a human
in the emerald eyes—
terrifying

they like my hair
the curls, the waves
the volume, the aliveness
but i can’t help but
tiptoe over the thought
that
the fondness of it
is disguised hatred…
fear

melancholy, but alone
oxymorons to me
being melancholy and
alone do not exist together
but somehow
when they all leave
my side like blurry ghosts
the sadness creeps up
slowly, painfully, brutally…
fear

the anxiety inside of me
fueled by gasoline
fires on my tongue
buildings dilapidated
lava flows softly
in a thunder city…
fear

children and their
dreams vigorous with
marzipan and cherries
their fake hair
and fake bodies
and overestimated “sorrow”
their heels snap on the floor
like cinderella i sweep
the dirt off the tiles
as they whisper delightfully
about the ball in
a nearby castle…
fear

oh, to be a swan
to swim in streams
that invite me
to glide in waters
that embrace me—
hunters!
they must have seen
our pure white glossy
feathers from afar
do you hear that noise?
heaven sakes, he’s
been shot…
fear

oh, to have a swan funeral
wearing our hearts
on our wings
fly away friend,
go join the sparrows
and doves
and peacocks in
Heaven
i wish i could join you
i’m alone and melancholy
down here where the hunters
roam
where the apple trees
are seasonal
and not forevermore
meet me,
but i doubt you will
given your circumstance
compared to mine…
fear

i collect the fireflies in my hand
gazing at the pink sky
as the sun sinks below the atmosphere.
i feel them buzz around my fingers
chaotically and rhythmically.
i’m the background singer
in my stage show
i’m a fraud
i’m sapphire stones
bleeding blue on my own.
the wasps are moving
the trees are eerily still.
i’m never letting these fireflies go.
the only release i’ve had in a while.
i’m tired of having a rehearsed smile
in the back of my throat.

the fireflies have died inside my hands.
i suffocated them
with my sweaty palms
and scrunched fingers.
my first mistake was believing in miracles.

there’s this boy who looks like my first celebrity crush
he’s taken by a beautiful girl
with cherry painted lips and a golden smile
oh, what i would give
to get lost in the labyrinth of blossoming love
to hear the accordion singing its recycled cheesy song
but it dives and curls and the wind is blowing in a strange manner
exhausted feelings catch up to me

there’s this boy who makes me scared for my soul because i like him so, but i’ve never met him
that’s how all my love songs go
nobody ever realizes
nobody ever knows
they always slip through my sweaty fingers
and their deep voices just become shallow echoes

there’s this boy who is the star in every show

there’s always the side character who pines
and never gets loved
it hurts to be so empty

when you found me,
strung out,
vibrant, completely free,
dancing on the roadside,
did it appear to you
that i was chaotically caught up in a moment’s breath?
unsure of the next minute,
if i would trip over my own heels,
stumbling over my own inability to be still,
dancing for distraction, faking love to seem important?
when you found me,
were you stranded too?
unaware of who you were
when you took a part of me
that was never even mine
but was never supposed to be yours?
who am i after losing myself,
for a moment, an hour’s clock hand touching me,
carving the reminder into my skin?
should i be loving more wholly,
dancing all alone—how it always was,
sacrificing who i am just to satisfy who i think i am?
and maybe this does not define me—
a minute’s telling, the time in which i was most free,
a vagabond pacing back and forth
on a machine-less road,
perhaps it was solely a destination
that beckoned
and begged
and i landed straight into its arms. there is
no further cause for meaningless regret
no further reasons to burn back time to reveal
the exoskeleton of something that has always been.
for once, the freedom should not shackle me
to an idea that not even i truly believe.
when you found me,
i was someone else entirely;
and you,
you were just a moment in time,
a moving thing of matter,
clinging to anything that would hold you down.

picture the luminescence  
cheekbones flexed
a flare of light
a bit of strength

you always inhabit the areas that reek with filthy phrases
ecstasy bleeding out of your weak bones
cause you follow the crowd that drowns in submarines
and coughs out their black lungs

picture the seaside town
its cliffs beside sandy beaches
the rapture  
illuminated by the irises of the world

fire escapes and lurid streetlights
the buzz of electricity

don’t forget the beauty amidst the demolition


but
you tell me this is fog, although i’m inhaling smoke

the clock ticks by
foreign matter in my lungs
choking back the truth
and i don’t know why.

homeless nomad
clinging to chains
tied to the ground
clad in wormy silk.

i tried to change
myself for someone like you
someone with a
cruel mind
in place of a crueler being.

i tried to change
all for you
yet still crammed in a jail cell
with rats as friends
who scoff at my
loneliness and
feed off of my fear
take me over,
i don’t desire the person
i have become; who i have tried
not to be

and now is just the end of something i cannot begin again
my jaws clenched,
suitcase packed and anxious to leave
leave behind the stories
that made you whole,
made you your present self,
leave behind the promises made in may,
the goodbyes frozen in august.
and now the ending is so clear
denial seems impossible of an option,
build up the walls again,
the walls built from fear
hide your body
if you lose it, never was it worth it
lose the weight of progression
start a new world you cannot dismantle
dismantle love, make it unrecognizable
unable to be recognized through a shoulder brush
just another universe, unable to be kept
keep the words to yourself,
swallow the sting of loss
trample the persistent pangs of hunger for the things memory cannot reach
hide until the hiding spot becomes a home
soft and harmless
abandon the idea of forgiveness for yourself,
yourself the one past forgiving.
disappear into the smog,
suitcase in hand,
barely lifted off the ground.
this is the end of something i just cannot bring to begin again.

i’ll never be enough
though i wish i could be
for you—for gentleness is all
that is necessary.
and to love you means death
and it means loneliness
and being deserted,
condemned to the ground.  
the hunters are stalking,
the vultures are surrounding,
but they cannot recognize me.
left behind with the wreckage,
grasping onto the fleeting gentle
moments that pass by like bullets,
like gunfire.
i’ll never be enough for you,
never be loud or seen enough for you.
i’ll surrender to the gentleness,
forever she will understand me.

i don’t believe in who you are anymore
now that my shoes have holes the size of dimes
and the drunk is still wearing off
and coming back from time to time.
wonder if the pressure ever ceases.
wonder if your heart feels empty
on a rainy night
or when i write,
wonder if your mind keeps spinning dreams
where i’m on the fence and the dogs are in the yard
and love isn’t scary when you’ve stared down the barrel of it for so long.
you ever wonder if your heart might stop one day,
ever wonder why the shame builds walls around us
and yet we keep dancing around it with our old shoes?
i don’t wonder anymore
about your whereabouts or where your emotions sit,
cross legged and anxious.
i don’t wonder anymore about our small town
and its stipulations.
i don’t wonder about you that often
and it makes me wonder what we had that made me love every second like it was my own offspring
like it breathed me alive until i died again and again
just so you would revive me.
i don’t wonder about you,
that often, anymore,
maybe the shame ate away at my bones
and provoked me for too long.
never knew the wound would heal itself and soon it would be apt time to forget.
does one forget?
does one forget those late nights,
fever-less after a sickness?
does one forget each purpose they’ve gathered
when they were not searching?
does one forget you?
does one simply stop believing in you?
stop thinking of you?
until the dust settles and the doors slam shut
and the empty hallway is just a hallway again
and not filled with your absence?
stop waking up wishing for you?
stop dreaming of the world without bloodshed, without fear, without shame?
just suddenly forget every emotion
that rests inside the mind?
just suddenly forget you?
stop believing in the falsehood?
just stop believing in you?

maybe we are punished
by those we miss most
with dark eyes
and heavy bags that
linger on a sad face.
maybe we are hurting
by ourselves and
we think it might get better
to wish for a lover,
i don’t want a lover,
i wanted to be loved.
now that that’s over,
i can’t remember
how tender you were
how life was a story
that i would’ve
fabricated to my mother
if it hadn’t happened
like it had.
maybe we are punished
by the thoughts we hold
that we think can stay forever,
a lingering cold.
maybe we are losing
our minds just a little
every second.
the neurons are gone—
what does it take to remember?
what does it take to remember?
make it much more,
bring it all back,
i haven’t thought of you—
it’s driving me mad.
how i can forget
what means the most?
am i being punished
by you, i hope
so.

they told you to book it in the opposite direction
with your back turned
never glance behind.
but you didn’t run
your feet stayed stationed, loyal soldiers
digging into the never-yet conquered land.
i made myself smaller,
a beautiful thoughtless daydream for your sharp obtuse thinking
but you weren’t even vicious like i made it up plainly in my mind.
i exaggerated your feelings
now i’m the only one left reeling
with my brain a foreigner in my own skull.
they told you to run,
but you stayed and hoped i would change.
forgive me for loving you in a psychotic way
where i locked up my affection in a jail cell
and never let it see the light of day
for your crystal-shining eyes
to see my true stance on you and us.
forget me
for your life could blossom if you free yourself from my shade
that prevents your soil from bringing up flowers
construct me a tower where i can hide
and you’ll never have to see my revolting face ever again.
they had told you to book it,
to blast down the road
and never look back
but you turned around
and smiled,
showing pristine white teeth,
and said you wouldn’t be leaving
because you had realized you loved me.
you were too naive to assume that i would accept that kind of adoration for myself
so i left you under the flickering street light
and when i looked back,
i could just see you crying

i feel free
by myself
without any one else
any body that’s coarse and weak
i don’t need a body to complete me.
i don’t need your false sunlight,
your false sense of security.
i am better alone.
i am easier to manage.
i am easier to mold into something else
something cowardly
like trying to belong.
oh, why did i ever try to belong?
oh, why did i ever try?
who was i
to be so bold as to assume that i was anything more than just a dying art?
for you.
a dying art
for your cracked and callused hands
to hold and touch when the brush becomes a part of your hand
—you can’t seem to set it down.

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.

four pumps of pulsating madness
i feel the summer in your veins
nooses hanging on our necks in the fields of dandelions
we swing
lifeless
from the sycamores
audaciously

three beheaded scoundrels
gather round with fiends
make friends with the dying oceans
from the mezzanine
our bodies look like melted statues
wilted to the breeze

two lovers guiltily isolated
barefoot on the gallows
holding each other’s hands
making entreating expressions
ostensibly grieving their fates
through crooked teeth

one stubborn rope
incense spewing from our tongues
as we breathe our last words
and stomach our last breaths
pertinaciously we dissociate with the
stern world built around us

zero souls standing
above the sycamores

i lost my ticket to get on your train
and i witnessed you wave from the caboose; you didn’t even try to get off.

i don’t believe in love or maintaining childhood friendships
i believe in falling short and purposeful abandonment.

you talk to my sister, but not me
what am i supposed to do about that?
it’s my fault i know;
i didn’t acknowledge your presence
i’m so pitiful.

i could throw you a million apologies
i wouldn’t be angry if you wouldn’t forgive me
maybe sometimes in the hallway, you get a bittersweet taste in your mouth when we lock eyes
and you regret the missed time we could’ve spent together
at football games, in history class, in health class
and i regret that too;
in this particular universe.

you drive and i’m terrified to get my permit
i don’t wanna accidentally ****** someone or myself in a car crash
you had a boy best friend in the front seat
and now i’m entirely numb and empty
what have i come to?

yes, i came home and wallowed in a puddle of my own forlorn tears
i can’t do anything else but sob

it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault
i am to blame, you could’ve told me “hi”
but i am not gonna blame this tumbling storyline on you
you like this school environment better than me
and i completely understand your reasons
again, it’s my fault and i stripped away my own dignity.

i am more numb than morphine could ever make me

i plagued this earth until it became a wasteland
and now i am cursing the vultures that only want to pick up scraps they can’t find here

why oh why does it have to be me destined to shoo them away?

i wish this was the last thing i would ever write for you. i just wanna move on, but i watched you walk across the dewy lawn and i felt empty inside. ghost town vibes. it hurts seeing you be the life of the party, the happy one, the “gets out of situations so easily cause she’s so pretty.” being friends with you was so amazing and i wish i didn’t take it for granite (granted apparently) back then.
cause now i’m the loser and ashamed that i didn’t say hi to you. now i ignore your every move as if i don’t even know who you are and nobody even knows that we knew each other or were, oh my gosh—friends. oh wait, forgot one word, or two. best friends forever. bffs. we drew in notebooks together, went to the book fair and found little friendship books and wrote in them. we were attached at the hip, so incredibly close. why did we lose that connection? you have so many **** friends and i have nothing against them, i just wish they would help bring back our friendship. and i am sick and tired (exhausted) of seeing you in the halls and looking the other way or up at the ceiling. i am embarrassed that it’s come to this. avoiding eye contact because i fear you hate me, cause God forbid, you send me a single message saying, “you know, i hate to admit it, but i miss you and i wanna start over.” but no. and perhaps i’m coming to full terms with that. i guess the contract is over and the summer sun has sunken into the fortress of the creepy night. i’m fine. it’s just- you had your car and i wished to ride in the front seat jamming out to music before school and having study halls together and making friends together and being friends forever. but it’s ok. i realized true friendship doesn’t exist. it’s all an in the moment thing. they’ll say they wanna be friends forever, but once you move from the ground to the sea, you’ll never wanna be dry again. and i get it. my lungs are drowning in the water, but i still don’t wanna climb out before it’s too late. i’m so sorry

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.

the ocean swallows me.
this midnight is a still midnight,
where the birds don’t coo and the waves don’t move.

the emptiness is not the ruler of all.
the tides continue to wash over the beach.
each wash of water awakening its earthly daughter.

each blush in my cheek i was taught to be ashamed of,
every desire deserved to be stomped on, twisted at the bottom of a shoe.
each nightfall i am forced to be tamed.

a seafaring sailor, drunk on each lifeless wave,
carving through sea walls.
i once believed in magic, but i have grown up and i know

that every sickness is a truth revealed
that every doubt can drown you, child.
that every word i’ve interwoven in your story has kept you reading,

candle-lit and curious.
that every reason i once had goes out with the tides,
that every blessing has six bullets and a sharp knife.

that the sea can feel like home,
an immense calling that never ceases.
that the world alone is meant to burn

each finger, each word
that i could ever sing, speak, or whisper.
that every human is incapable of loving you.

that every human is a desert
when all i need is an ocean,
a constant, a still midnight.