ice is sharp and cold and you don’t wanna get frostbite during the winter months
i never wanted to step on the cracks
i never wanted to fall in so deep
painfully sobbing and at the very edge of drowning
i never wanted to get hypothermia from my fatal accident
i only wanted to step over the cracks
and return safely to the promised land of warm beds and train tracks

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

what does this mean?
****** palms, downtrodden expressions?
i don’t want you to **** me
with your ****** palms and deep dagger-like fangs
pulsing veins are black
i’ve lost my home
do you think of me when the silence is all you hear?
perhaps lying there do i seem worthwhile even for a second?

when the floodlights hit my body,
i hope it dazzles clearly
for i am scared i’ll disappear in a crowd
and the beam of light won’t notice me.
although i’m frantically waving my arms
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
with those eyes that make the moon seem small
that make the sun lose some of its glory.

and once the day will bring forth no light
and we will have to forge some ourselves.
your arms will be the anchors
holding Earth still
and i’ll lasso the sun two times around
and coax it out of the nimbostratus clouds
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
it whimpers.

when we walk in alleyways with no streetlights,
i hope you hold my jacket sleeve or my hand in the cold chill of the sudden change in temperature.
i pray that you’ll still watch me
so strangers walking with the darkness
don’t steal me away
and make a jail cell out of my heart
leaving the prisoners it detained pacing and awake.
i hope the streetlight shines or your heart bursts into the fire of one thousand suns
just
promise me you’ll
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦

if you love my writing, i’ll love you

i wanna feel your hands
on my body
like poetry
stanzas and alliterations
upon my guilty skin

your eyes twinkle
and they sing
i’m sure you would be good at writing
we could exchange ideas
paint words vividly
but maybe you do write out of
your own accord
i don’t actually know you, forgive me

i am tired of being invisible
know me
let me know you
in a way that no one else knows you
a way that is secretive
but capable

i’ll write your wrongs
and right down the street
are my open arms
to hold you in spite of the horror
to build you sanctuary
to construct buildings out of
your bulging eyes
hold me as well

i am not a handful
whatsoever
          just kidding

but whatever
let me be your muse
that way i can live forever in
hardback books and film screens
so i don’t doze off one day and leave
no memories
that way
you’ll always have me

i can stamp you on paper and
keep you in the paragraphs
and
line breaks

i can sketch your eyes into crystal *****
fortune tell for the distant future
inside of our tightly held palms

i will love every square inch of your
olive oil skin
and every ounce
of your soulful soul

i’ll write you into metaphors
about the land, sea, and animals
scream your name at the top of my
lungs until
you magically appear
i’ll wipe your tears
and
toss em’ off your pillowcase
read you bedtime stories about
how the moon adores the tides so
much, but they change every time
  she
    moves

also how the sun stopped shining
and ruined his true love
with the earth
and ever since then, all citizens
get burned in extra passionate heat
he wanted to make it up to her.
but he can’t.

please adore the way i draw the
rhyming into poetry
fantasize about me smiling on a bridge
in Chicago
so tiny in comparison to the
skyscrapers
that cling to the clouds
almost touching Heaven
(they think so)

be my muse
if not from closeup
at least far-away
or
at least
at arms length
cause
i wanna feel your chilly
hands grace my body
like choirs in unison
looovvvvveeeeee mmmmeeeee

(or at least like my poetry)

(you don’t even have to like me)

(just read it)

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

knife marks on my deadbeat frame.
lingering emotions
but they aren’t as excruciating anymore.
wasteful injustice, crawling up my veins.
digging holes in my white blood cells.
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵.
jokes on me, sunrise isn’t rebirth.
it’s rubbing it in your face
that the world doesn’t stop turning
for you, it never stops.
you never get help,
no matter how many buttons you press
or how many hand waves you give.
𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠.

i’ll once believe we have something, some kind of ember
some kind of fire that doesn’t scare itself
some kind of blaze that never escapes
that keeps growing and forming and whistles all day.
there’s some kind of weather
that makes me colder
and you, warmer.
some kind of change blowing through the summer air
some kind of new wind unheard of from here.
there’s some kind of vigor i wish i had
that you do  
and it’s so easy to get swept up in the current of you.
no matter where i swim, the tide carries me down the wet sullen stream.
i’m back in the heart of things,
something is grabbing my pant leg;
it can’t be shaken.  
i float down the river,
weaving our love into baskets to send off to the water.
i’ll once believe we have something
when you pull my shaking body out from the water,
wrap me in a towel
and place me by the fire.

near some kind of ember
floating till its death.

𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪
𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙
      ❞𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨
       𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣
       𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙
       𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜  
       𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚
       𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚
       𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚.❞
𝙞 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙
𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙛
𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧
𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣
       ❞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩
         𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚.❞
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙
         ❞𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢.❞
𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢, 𝙣𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝
         ❞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.❞
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣
          ❞𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨
           𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙪𝙥, 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮, 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙩
           𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧...❞
𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨
𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨
𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧
𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙
𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚
𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚
𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚
𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙

𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝙡𝙚𝙩’𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮
         𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 :)

in an unstable way and way that is incapable
to recover from
i am incapacitated
weak stringy sick
poles for legs
twisted ankles
that don’t stand up
out of their own will
but by the unruly gravity
of planet earth
the clock strikes august
intake watched,
just parsnips
upon shaky lips
hesitant to chew
with the fear of a black hole—
endless unhappiness in all manners
inside of me
is a miserable mechanic
who keeps drilling
and replacing
and hollering
for continuously
i have lowered my brow
and combusted
leaving pieces of machinery
burnt and ruined
for his sore hands to
pick them up
and work away
slaving precious days away

your muted applause
in a vacant miscalculated amphitheater.
if it makes noise,
i don’t hear it.
if it doesn’t,
i’ll pretend to.
i’ll tie your vapid words to my feet
and sing with the past fallen civilizations.
at least we’ll have something in common.
envy like ivy,
creeping up the walls
of my abandoned house in the
middle of the woods.
i’ll preach for the choirs
singing my guts out
for the fakers and
gladiators who all doubt my strength
cause’ pull away when you feel like the plot for ****** is starting to include your name.
somehow it doesn’t stain bitter snakeskin,
it only brings closure to being with who i don’t
consider to listen to
all the notes carried
so forcefully.
my stage is starless,
gotta confess that
the acoustics are awful;
forgot to smile.
you would’ve listened
if you really wanted to.
you would’ve licked the seal of the envelope
mailed it to me
to show your gratitude
and your generosity.
but instead you sit forging
your own signature
on the corpse of this friendship
while i cry over spilled milk
and birthday cake smudges
over tile floors
too repulsed to mop anymore.
too unhinged to care anymore.
too alive to be killed by your sword.
too loud, but not loud enough
for the sound to travel to your eardrums.
still, it’s not much to ask for you to just move
a little closer.

need a friend?
the doubts live inside of me like citizens
that walk slowly in courthouses ready to sue.
all their passions are out of wack,
they only know how to survive by shooting down others.
every hollow house i was led to, hand in hand,
as i trusted you to guide me.
i need a friend.
i need the fever, the fire, the rage, the shooting star, the red seething blood.
any warmth to remind myself of tenderness,
even if it is without at the core.
i need anticipatory silence, waiting your filthy hands to slap the dinner table and i rush to clean the shattered plates.
don’t hurt me,
be gentle,
don’t make me smaller.
make me smaller,
make me writhe,
make me smaller,
quieter, less of a burden.
be responsive,
make me spill.
i need a friend.
the panic has large hands that choke me,
has a large frame to push me deep
and never lift me out.
though, i will not make do with violence,
i am not silent when it comes to love that festers.
need a friend?
the breaths i take will be for you.
the day is wicked
and you are so tender,
i would like this meal to be filling,
i would like you to stay a while.

hold me because it’s achingly difficult.
you jumped out a window
and landed face-first into the squishy grass
i would have caught you,
but it was too late.
somehow it always is.
i jumped into your arms,
but your body was so cold.
a starved mind, a clueless nomad
i sink into bathtubs
and i don’t have organs
i am an invisible skeleton.
i wear shoes
that are too
tight around my ankles
and my legs hate each other
and i hate them too—
what a disgraceful feud.
somehow when i touched you,
you melted into the background
of the stage i wasn’t aware that i consented to.
permission overlooked
forgiveness not a given.
this is the end.
perhaps not what i had envisioned—
not that it matters.
it doesn’t.
i’m picking blots in my bloodstream.
the popping forehead ventricles
the insanity so familiar
and so homely.
home-cooked meals, hearts drawn out onto my back.
it’s too late for me to me to say i’m sorry
or to pray for myself.
it’s too late to love.
i insist
but the road i walk down is dusty chemicals
and your hand is not placed precisely in mine.
it’s too late this time.
somehow it always is.

am i inherently evil cause of my skin color?
do these blue eyes define evil in the shadow of brown eyes?
why must i feel ashamed for my pale skin?
i didn’t chose to be in this body.
didn’t chose to look this way.
half of the time i wanna punch myself in the face and turn purple so my skin color doesn’t protrude through my clothes.
i wanna hide in my blankets, cover my head with a bucket, my legs with a floor length gown.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
let me be someone else.
someone with browner eyes.
someone with black flowing hair.
someone with darker skin.
someone with more joy.
someone from a place prettier than here.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate it.
i hate it.
i absolutely hate it.

i am a skeleton.
you gave me your all
and all i could hand back
was a piece of my femur.
the love inside of you
makes my love seem small
i’m so ashamed
of my silence.
i walk backwards down a stairway
seeing
the walls i put up
too big too tall
for you to cross.
i need to love
but i’m too flimsy
my bones
are weak.
the love inside of you
taught me about the love inside of me
and it doesn’t have a home
since i left you a ghost
in a house by the highway.
we live a few miles from each others smiles,
dive in the pool at nighttime
the lights are so bright.
i swim with the bugs and we hold each other.
how hard is it for me
to show you what i see?
i lied for my pride—
he said we were beautiful.
the love inside of you is growing stronger
the love inside of me is begging for forever
but i have no skin
nothing to hold onto.
i killed myself briskly
if you had a word in
i wouldn’t have stopped breathing.
it’s car trips and teenage years
i want us to roam free
two kids with our bones and our aches and our loves
we can’t express
i deny till i’m upset
that you want someone else in your pool
in your house
in car rides at midnight
instead of my feet that can’t reach the pedal right.
i make things a joke and you laugh
and i know that the other girl won’t
make you lean back as you laugh,
though i don’t know this for sure.
the love inside of you is trying to call on the love inside of me
but i soiled it all.
i’m blue and i’m scared we may never be anything
except two kids with shotguns pointed at each other
though you are the bluffer
and i just don’t know how to fake anything.

you sit behind me in international studies
i never look at you
maybe you recognize me...
   maybe you often want to say my name
especially after hearing my new companions saying it
     elucidate what you are feeling
make it so i can become a ninja with you again
and laugh in the schoolyard
    you are basically dead
you wispy deserted ghost town please show me what you think about me how....
     i kissed you
and i always knew my lips were not good enough of a souvenir
  everyone forgets about me anyway
     but i always become a revenant
here forever if you open your eyes or if you don’t forget the tributes of my life....


      you sit behind me in international studies
and i will never look at you because you will never ever bother to look for me

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

it’s so hard to stomach it
that i would feel freer without your grip
to leap from the cascade of waterfall
blood in the water
stab wound under the blouse
it’s a woman killer,
staying put.
that when it’s airplanes plummeting from the gaping sky,
or when it’s thrashing swords,
it’s better to just stay silent
or run away
but how come running away is so tricky?
to just move those little feet
and leave the ditch you lay in
for blooming gardens and sky-kissing cities
but it’s impossible.
bruises gather on satin skin
snake bites bubble
and tears slip
and
the realization hits
but doesn’t hit hard enough
and it’s just sitting in trenches
waiting for the enemy to consume
me
but it’s a slow burn
and
it burns so terribly.
i have remained unspoken
i have let the automobiles crash into my haven
i have given them a place to rest,
a place to stay in
and i
regret it.
regret meeting you
regret encouraging you
regret being anything near you.
you’ll stare at my grave in the ground
and you’ll just shrug it off,
move some dirt over it,
but it only covers the evidence
not the girl that sits
with her knees clenched
sobbing in fits
of anguish
caused by your tyrannical hunger
to give life to lonely people
and then take it away.

yet sometimes the water is calm;
there are no ripples caused by incongruity
no collapsing dams, no inundations
just peace.
and it’s safe in this place
i say
but one ever knows when rain
might be too heavy
and one never knows when their house is about to get flooded.

all i do is damage myself for you.

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

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?

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

i am content with being away from you
lost on my own continent
stranded on an island
your words seep through my skin
hurting like knives and shards of china glass

i am content with being away from you—from this, from us
i am content to hide inside a seashell and never come out
melted bones into hermit crab forms
fate accepted

i am content with being away from you—from the way you treat me
it is halloween in my nightmares
always dressed up as a princess or a queen when really all i feel inside is that i should be a
vampire or a zombie
meandering along the path of self-destruction

i am content with being away from you—from your fangs, from your grimy hands
i am content with staying put on an ocean raft just rising and falling as the waves swallow me up and spit me back up
selflessly free as a turtle riding the inevitable current

i am content with being a person far far away from you
making my own decisions with a smile gleaming on my face
waking up and walking outside on my own accord
listening to the sound of morning doves instead of the chaotic sound of sirens

i am content with myself—content with the life that doesn’t have you in it
gritty sandy harsh words grating against my smooth and vibrant skin
you will not give me heatstroke from the flames you breathe from the fire congested city
the tides will carry you, sandstorms will bury you, and tornadoes will whisk you away
far far from the whereabouts where i call home

i am content to be away from you.
i am content to be alone.

i wrote you a poem
where i’m scared to say everything
for fear of seeming too open.
where i loved you without embarrassment
or agitation
or sudden fear.
i wrote you a poem
where you were shining—
the sun looked like you tonight—
so i cried
staining ill-fitting clothes
on an ill-fitted body.
i wrote you a poem
where i showed you the admiration
i hold quietly inside
in tender unspeakable dreams.
i have countless dreams
sleepless feelings
of you and to my dismay
i drift to sleep
with your name floating above my forehead like counting sheep.
i wrote you a poem
where you smiled
and your tear drops fell,
up sprouted a garden.
i harvested your flowers;
put them in my hair.
i wrote a poem
where you care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was crying in his hands. the tears were dripping like little gum drops. i stuck those tiny suckers into my mouth. they dispersed. it tasted like adversity or my beach house in Virginia. i miss Joanne. oh, no. these small little candies are reminding me of her. of her radiant smiles. but right now, he’s the only thing in my view. i can’t feel fear when we are locked together. locked together in the gates of a presumptuous heaven. he spoke to Michael. i spoke to Raphael. because i saw my cerulean clothes move. that’s the color of Raphael’s dreams. and Raphael told me that i shouldn’t worry my mind thinking about what could be. he said that u, Joanne, are a lost one. he also said i shouldn’t miss anyone that doesn’t miss me. what Michael told- let’s call him Jesse- he told Jesse that sobbing on the street across from an abandoned building is disappointing. he said that Jesse should cry with someone who will lick up the candy from his watery eyes. i overheard that part. and i grinned wisely. ‘he can cry with me. he can dance in the strawberry lighting of my doorway. he can shrivel up like an onion and then grow a tree the next day. he can catapult like a rocket or become a successful astronaut for n.a.s.a.
i will remember to delegate my legacy and make him squeeze it in between his loyal fingers and spitefully hug him goodbye when i know i will see him later. yes, Michael the archangel, i will make sure to sweep up his salty inquires and not let him climb over the fence to strangle the neighbor’s cat. i will moisten his dry edges and put him beside the wallpaper of my living angels.’
Michael smiled ressurantly and took my hands. I smelt the grape wine snug below his tapestry tongue; i knew God wasn’t too far away. but i didn’t want to be a bother. and both archangels flew us back to muffin earth where both Jesse and i sat in silence cause we had just been talking for hours and coming up with fantastical stories about the archangels. oh, find you a person who will be delusional with ur illusions and drink cranberry cider combined with vinegar and say that it tastes “nutritional.”

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.

all nights bathing in the print of my own shadow
flow
in the same rhythm;
the same continuous rhythm
slithering
grasping onto its victim.

how dare i let myself sleep
in wishful periodic dazzling daydreams?

i taught myself how to be alone
now i cannot relearn how to reach out for someone’s hand in the light i so erratically disguised as the dark

you may call me a coward for being incapable of reaching you,
but the ship you rode onto my shore
has suddenly started to drift down current
and i cannot save you with it.

it’s inevitable that i will have to let you drown.

i couldn’t remember your middle
name if you asked me to.
lee or mary?
i’m an island
and you’re nebraska,
surrounded by a
million proud people
positive in a combined effort.
i’m still the same girl who said we would move in together when we were older, but we were twelve and so naïve to the
idea of broken relationships.
the middle of june stings me each year
when the calendar tells me
it was the time you were born
and i can’t write you a note
because i’m too afraid to invest too
much of myself in a girl i don’t even
recognize anymore.
right in the pupils,
you didn’t smile.
i’ll be quiet for the sake of you
i’ll go under your radar
till you forget my meaning
to you.
this love is so selfish or
what would i even call it?
i don’t even think about
you or your prairies
just the childhood memories
shot in the heart of me
by one big arrow
it says “don’t let anyone
be your best friend
because it will end.”
i should have taken that advice
and ran for my unworthy life.

juvenile
with your harsh profanities
and gritty teeth
grabbing ahold of me
puncturing my flesh

i want to be more like God
and i’m trying so hard

i read inspirational poetry books in the mirror
and around you,
i smile in fear
do things rehearsed and pre-planned and you don’t even notice
because the main focus
is you

façade strong
happy blushing faces all day long

that’s not who i am
and you’re the one who should know me best
but you don’t.

and i don’t understand how you plan
to take me down to the pits of the earth’s core
because i want to be more
like who i adore
and that’s just not you.

i start to mourn the life that i could’ve had, but killed
and so i sit
sabotaging the only shining starry nights in my life,
and i sing restlessly into an empty jungle,
hoping to hear a familiar call.
one sound to reassure me that i am not the only one left,
singing unknowingly into the thicket
waiting for something to whisper back
—something that has gone extinct.

killer, i have your blood on my hands
and a pool around me.
no intentions of losing you today
but still i let the gray of sadness
devour me
until it convinces me there’s no one else.
and you were something of a stand-up guy
and i’m a woman who sits down quiet
and makes problems out of her tender relationships.
killer, i have nothing to say to you
after everything. i wished i used you instead
then you could hate me
and bruise my heart
instead of me bruising yours.
i have all these dreams where it goes right
and the ringtone reaches your little line
and the laughter flows like honey from the earth.
killer, i am such a danger to your vibrant fuse, your dance moves.
we are glowing stars blind to each other’s light.
i lie down in a pool of your blood,
ashamed that i had to take the knife
and force an ending upon you.
killer, how did i ever expect to be loved if i
i didn’t even welcome such a thing in?

i want a fire escape love
i want a “feels like i’m in space” love
i want a looking around every crowd to see your sweat dribbled face love
i want a kiss in your car love
i want a hold passionately in the dark love
i want an “aim at your heart cause i know where you are” love
i want a forgiving love
i want a long living love
i want a “shower you in kisses cause this is what i’m giving” love
i want a meadow runner love
i want a midsummer love
i want a “lay in a field of flowers with the sky above, us under” love
i want a fully encapsulated love
i want a “you make me exasperated” love
i want a never cause arguments or leave me aggravated love
i want a strong love
i want a hold me while i’m crying hard love
i want a never let the sadness get too far love
i want a peaceful love
i want a hand that removes the letal love
i want a “give me medicine so i don’t become feeble” love
i want a free love
i want a frolic on the beach love
i want an “end of the week it’s you i want to see” love
and i want an everlasting love
i want a light up the shadows that are casting love
i want an “end of a disaster it’s you and i that are going to be lasting” love

i want you, love

disappearing in the labyrinth
you are still sick
within
the passageways are getting more narrow
your head is spinning
in confusion
your lips turn purple from shivering
your hands turn cold
the greenery gets more
and more
similar
each time
through each corner
the unlucky loser never left the labyrinth
so you stress out
thinking that your escape
is just a foreign idea
an impossible task
that’ll never be put into full effect
and the maze gets tighter
minute
by minute
perhaps the once fever
dream
is molding into a forever nightmare
the lonely labyrinth
wanted you as company
misery loves it dearly
so you are trapped in this network
of dips and turns
only the embrace of narrow paths
can soothe you from
your painful fate

i hear the
soft murmur of
distant firearms
loading and
reloading
backup called
i hear it from
inside my cozy
apartment walls

i dreamed in silhouettes
sold my heart for
a dozen dimes
the old women
on the street
kicking my joints
with their polished
high heels
pantyhose in
their wrinkly hands

i woke up when
the flood water
came in through
the windows
and broke
my slumber
and catapulted
me out of
my dreams

i remember
the news channel
buzzing with
kelly- or some
other generic
radio host name

her laughs
were loud and
evil and
had not even
a trace
of remorse

her pretty
face was reserved
for the microphone
poor gorgeous girl
it must be awful
to be stopped on
the street
because you’re so
incredibly attractive

they’ll tell you
a man doesn’t make
you a woman
but i’ve been the
**** of a joke
for never having
a boyfriend
to hold
what happened
to letting young
women be
independent?

some stuffed socks
down my throat
and told me
to inhale

i dreamed that
the bridge
in my small town
burned
to the ground
like the london one

i felt the heat
climb up
into the clouds
the atmosphere
coughing
while they
shopped at
the most luxurious
retail stores
in the
gigantic city

they poured
the children’s’ blood
down into
the gutters
of their
hampton estates
and they
just shrugged

she told me
my clothes
were too
poor-looking
i get that
you got a
brand new
toyota for
your sixteenth
birthday and
i’m pretty sure
you were driving
with your crush
or whatever
kind of
relationship you
have that i
couldn’t care
less about
it might have
been your “vicious”
parents car in
that instance

girls don’t
support girls
they stab them
and call them basic
i would know
cause i do
i’m awful
to my age
demographic

and the streets
are still littered
with rusty nails
and stale black
nail polish
with trash bags
no matter what
length your
haircut is

and the oceans
are still polluted
with makeup products
and coffee shop cups

and my heart
is still battered
and sore
from underneath
the sole of her
stilettos

letting go is
simple, yet
you still need
me to spell it
out for you

perhaps now
you know why
i was always
so good at spelling

i watched the brightest star in the sky through my melancholy filled eyes
i think i saw your silhouette dancing in the brisk winter air
my pupils became satellites
and if i wasn’t so petrified i woulda cried
but it isn’t on me
and i cry in secrecy

i think i saw you pirouette by the dwindling shine of the star
but that’s just a thought of mine
i thought i’d bring to mind

those deep fangs
pressing upon pale purple skin
that poison,
damp on your tongue,
hitting the roof of my mouth
violently and persistently

you patronizing pain inflicter
with that wicked soul
pursing red velvet lips
drooling at the sight
of a fresh-blooded miss

the girl with a smile carved upon her cheeks
those golden-stalactite eyes
dripping rain residue on this coarse body

that cold-blooded smirk
impermanent generosity,
one side grinning,
the other frowning

you vile human  
with hair oddly blond like blinding light
those fluids dripping from your lips
irregular breathing patterns

you’ve made this fever festering inside me
feel like happiness
you’ve made this uninhabitable cavern
into something so familiar one can’t quite place
you’ve made me bleed from these eyelids

and feed it straight to you
like i am some chess piece
in some childish game for you
but i cannot stand this
and no i will not keep humoring you
i will use this body
for something other than for you