I concede,
I yield,
I cave,
I give in.
My 2 weeks put themselves
in centuries ago.

I've fallen from my self-righteous high horse;
a stallion meant only for
those full of their own capability.

For so long
I've fought more than 'tooth and nail',
more than 'blood sweat and tears'.
Fought harder than 'life or death'.

I've fought to the diminishment
of my brazen,
furious soul.

Worn my own sharp
rapturous vigor for this life
down to a dull
dull syringe.

Even the most skilled,
determined ****** couldn't
tap a main line vien
with what now remains.

How did I get here?
What year did I get
hooked? I can say
it began in 7th/8th grade,
but this has been going on
much longer.
   I was born addicted
to breathing too hard, kicking,
screaming, fighting everything
going on around me.

   I was born addicted to
burning. I have always reveled
in my own shadow. Been addicted
to addictions. Been hooked on
the Boogey man and the monsters
in my closet.
I remember,
I was 5,
tried to play with
my nightmares, but
they were playing with
my dreams and psyche.

I'm in a downwards
roller coaster. I swear it was
going up,
   Then again after all
the drugs I'm surprised
my inner ear has any sense
of direction.
I've been lost in a hurricane
filled with marijuana,
amphetamines, all the alcohol
you could wish for.
  ******, *******, Percocet, acid,
  shrooms, Ecstacy, Xanax, I've
  popped pills with no clue of the
  name.
  Snorted so many different chemicals
  I got a nose bleed for 2 hours.
  and took another bump
  when the road looked safe.

My path of addiction is
embedded in my DNA.
I swear I was born
on fire.
    I burn through each day,
    I burn through each moment,
    I burned through my own brain.
Burn out... That's what you call it.

I don't believe in done.
I don't believe in unbroken,
or finished, perfection,
spotlessly clean.
It's all a lie.
We all breaks, cracks,
I don't believe in always.
Then again...
When it comes to my brother's
addiction he will always be
drowning in alcohol. *****, whiskey, tequila.
His brain has become and will stay
barren.

I don't believe in recovered,
or survivor, trauma rotting into
your brain. The person you were, just
died, a masterpiece scrapped.

I believe in lost. Hopelessly lost.
Because I am there, or here. I
no longer walk the ground of this
earth, but rather the quicksand of
my memories. Stepping as quick
as I can, trying to find a way
out of my most recent delusions.
I can feel each hurricane of
another flashback and revel in it.
Thinking I'm revolting against him,
but really I'm just letting his
fingerprints from the crime scene
strip me of my pride again.

I'm not sure I believe in hope,
in love, in reality. I don't know my
stance on revenge, hate, vengeance, pride.

I know I'd rip his tongue out, or maybe
just half. So he can still taste his own
blood. Jam my fingers in the mess, so he can
see how it feels to have his blood on my hand.
Play our relationship in reverse. Rewind my nightmares,
see my body being put back together by
time. Slowly I am no longer burning.
I would simply slip away. Get out
of his hold, head locks, and being restricted.

No bruises, no police, no reports, no detectives,
no more holes missing from my being.

I believe in avoiding possibilities.

How long do I have to keep fighting
until I feel like I've finally won
*something

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
feel the cold air
of a fresh start.
Limbs not in your control,
you think it's a critical
hit, not able to speak
barely any motor skills.

You think it starts to rain,
water on the battlefield
washing off your blood,
wrapping you in nature's embrace.
Warm like an incubator,
keeping you warm and safe,
your eyes sliding closed.

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
leaving the warmness
of the explosion
you cry out in confusion.
Doctor taking you in his arms,
you think you fell asleep
somewhere between here and there,
feel limbo hanging in the air.

Boom!*
Another flash of light
in your new eyes
sounds ringing through
your new ears,
they're counting your toes
and fingers,
seeing how much you weigh.
Swaddled you are given to
mother nature once again,
3 explosions,
you're dead,
and born again.

I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.

-My Personality-
The important thing
about my personality
is that it's me.
It's cruel and
shifting
It's too nice at times.
But the important thing
about my personality
is that it's me.

-My words-
The important thing
about my words is that
they're strong.
They're loud and
quiet, sometimes
they're confusing and
twisted.
But the important thing
about my words is
that they're strong.

-My Journal-
The important thing
about my journal is
that it's patient.
It's empty and
scribbled all over,
some pages torn
off.
But the important
thing about my
journal is that
it's patient.

I think I
need to accept
that we're
not meant for
"facebook official"

We were hidden
behind locked
doors, whispers
in ears, hidden
under covers
with a substance
we could blame
our actions on.

We weren't meant
to hang on each other
in front of people who
could tell.
I'm good at keeping
secrets, I promise.
But I've never fallen
In love with one.

I don't think you intended
that to happen.
I don't think you
intended to fall
in love with it
either.

But your legs have
always been
ready to run.
So when it
became clear
that we could
happen.
That the curtain
would be pulled,
you wanted no part
of it.

And I think I
need to accept
that we weren't
meant to be
known.

I haven't been happy
in a long time.
I'm not sure I even
know how to be happy without
being surrounded by other people.

You see I'm in a relationship
and I have never been this happy.
When I'm with him that is.
But I have a problem with
cheating.
There are girls with
fire in their eyes
and flower beds in their
nails and there are guys
with a dark look
that says I won't be able
to walk.

And the only reason I haven't
left my love yet is just that.
Love. I don't know a lot
about it. But I know that
I can't ignore it.
I may be cold, but I am
not heartless.

I have a lack of feeling.
My mom said I have no empathy.
I told her I must be a psychopath.
She just shook her head
and corrected me, sociopath.

Maybe when a man decided he wanted to
break my ***** without my
permission, I think I lost a part
of myself.
I went into my head because my words
were no longer being listened to.
I went to a place where
nothing mattered because I couldn't
stand a place where it did.
I haven't left that place yet.
My therapist says it's
Dissociation disorder. She says I have
PTSD. I have a personality disorder,
and a mental disorder equal to being
bipolar on crack.
So don't tell me that I wasn't *****.
Don't tell me I asked for it.
Don't tell me I wanted it.
Don't tell me that **** does
not matter.
Becuase if it didn't it wouldn't
have a name classifying it as something
other than ***.
I would be okay. I wouldn't be this
loony case who needs her
medication so that she doesn't
have flashbacks and feel her
wrists being held down again.

I think this explains why I can't
be faithful. I'm lost in a universe
where nothing matters, and nothing
is real. I don't know how to feel
love when it's not by my side
and I think that's why I always need
to be by his side.
Because when I'm alone I don't exist.
I am grey and everything is just a
black hole.
I am a shape shifter
and I don't even know
myself. I don't think anybody
really knows me.

I am liquid that has been
melted in his hot abusive
gaze. And I am mercury.
A girl with firework kisses
said that I was toxic.
So I guess the metaphor fits.
I just wish I understood why
I can't be real.
I feel like Pinocchio and I just
want to be a real boy.
When I am held in someone's arms
and attached to someone else's
lips I am a leech and I'm *******
color out of them hoping
that the feeling of being
alive stays.

But I really wish that I could
just be real
and faithful.
I just want to make him as
happy as he makes me.

I don't like stories
that end with questions.
I can't stop thinking about
it until I get some resolve,
I'll find questions
pestering the author
until my imagination is
no longer running wild.

You changed your name
from Mars to Athena.
And honestly you should
of changed it to Aphrodite.
Becuase it was so *******
easy to fall in love with you.
Someone might ask how Mars
was accurate for our relationship.
It's the roman god for War.
And there's a constant battle in my
mind over what could have been.
Tears running down my face
like the blood you have spilling
from my heart.
I don't know why I can't
forget you.
You don't want me.
I know you don't,
and it hurts as if I was
an orphaned child
and what my parents did wrong
was beat me.

I know that we'd be terrible
for each other.
We'd be so destructive.
but I can't eat.
The only problem is that,
now you can.
With me gone, you don't
have to deal with my
toxic air.
But I can't imagine
a perfect image
without my backbone
showing just to prove
that I actually have one.

I'm sorry I'm so cold.
I'm sorry that frostbite's
the only kisses I've left on your neck.
You give me butterflies,
but I am cellophane to you.
While I'm begging for your attention
for some ******* closure
you're silent.

But I can't stand stories that have
questions at the ending.
All you are is a *******
question mark.
Which is kind of funny,
because remember when we gave
ourselves tattoos?
You put a question mark on
the inside of your finger
and I didn't understand.
You are the opposite of closure.

I don't believe in ignoring an
opportunity because all that gets you
is remorse. It gets you pain.
Or at least that's what it got me.
But really, I don't think you care
anymore.
I've been abandoned before.

Athena works for your name too.
Your strategy for breaking my
heart worked so **** well.
You knew just how to
break it completely.
Have your ******* cliches
back, and all of the kisses.
All you've done is break my being.
"Don't take my words, they're
all I have left."
But you've done exactly that.
I'm speechless on what to do.

If you love something, let it go.
Right?
I'm letting go, baby.
Just like you wanted me to.

When I smell nicotine
I think of her,
and I think it's kind
of funny her nickname's
Nikki.

Men thought of her
as half smoked stogies
they can get a buzz from
and just flick away.
Her mind set was,
if they decided to abuse
her, hey, it's not her
that's gonna end up getting
lung cancer.

But really I shouldn't be comparing
this woman to cigarettes.
She's more exotic than any
American spirit or
no. 27 that you could find.
She's straight, she swears
but she ground her hips
against mine just as fine
as she grinds her ****.
My lips were attached to her neck
and when we switched spots
she laughed as my moans echoed out
the open window.

Now this woman. She has the highest
level of confidence
or self-esteem I have ever seen.
But she could shrink her
waist in a week
if someone commented
on how skinny I was.
She's had her body held in a cage,
but they couldn't tame her.
She's not afraid of anything.
Not with her chinked eyes,
or methed out shake,
I don't think you can intimidate
someone after they've had
a gun held to their face.

She deserves so much more
then she has been giving herself.
So when I smell nicotine I try to place
the memories of the flavor in my mouth
on us trying to cover up the **** smell.
Her memory shouldn't be brought up
by the smell of a cancer stick.
But then again,
She's just as deadly as one.

Monsters in your diaphragm
you scream out your rhymes so loud
trying to find a spell
strong enough that will
expel these hiccups
putting spaces in your words.

Tying your tongue up in knots
writer's block has got you hooked
up to an IV flowing creativity.

Like a ****** addict
trying to forget the screams.
IV pumping fluid into his
veins repressing the memories.
Trying to dig them into the mud
but you see when you do that
they just harden over time
get stuck in your memory
like scars on the suicidal
mental patient trying to cut
her jugular.

See I've been to a mental hospital.
You share secrets of how the wet
towels give you friction burns and
leave scars deeper than
your nails can.
Like on the transgender girl,
Staff referring to her with her
former pronoun,
I swear I've never see a deeper
mental breakdown.

They all regret everything they've seen.
hid what happened to them deep inside.
But let me tell you.
I've been *****.
It wasn't in a dark alley,
I wasn't hog-tied and no gun
was held to my head.
But it was just as
traumatizing. I know that the way
he took my body and made it his
was wrong. But his abuse is mine.
What he did to me is mine.
I can hold the anger I have in my hand,
squish it like play dough. I can
shape it into a knife and stab him
deeper than he injected me with
his controllingness.

Moral of this ****** up poem
is to let it out. Understand that ****
happens and it ******* *****
and none of it was your fault.
But do not let it control you.
The situation held you in bounds for
as long as it could.
Do not stay with your hands behind
your back just because you're scared
the handcuffs are still there.
You can take the memories so deep in
your mind and make them cement
underneath your feet
as ground to stand on.
Grow bigger than you ever have.
And let your abuser know it's because
they broke you.
You just fixed your bones with
titanium, and now they can't touch you.

Don't tell me I'm perfect.
Don't kiss my finger tips
and slide a necklace over
my collar bones.
Don't tell me I'm the one.
Don't kiss me goodbye because
I kissed her with
lust in my eyes just an
hour ago.
Don't tell me that I deserve
so much more than you.
Because I might reply "ditto".

I've been caught in my mind for
so long, that this has become the only
place I understand things.
She feels like he did.
Always breathing this fog
that I could never wrap my
head around, so I mistook it for
a good fuzzy feeling in my gut.
But when I'm not around her
I want to cry for the
secret kisses we shared
that I know I meant. I know I
wanted to feel her lip piercing
between my teeth
and I know that her hands between
my thighs again was something
I craved. But it's not something
I can have. I have something
that is so much better than
"secrets" when really I should
call them ***** lies.
Maybe that's why my tongue has
swollen and I can feel
cavities rotting into my teeth.
I've been trying to keep her
name in my mouth for so long,
rigor mortis has set in
and the decomposition has begun.

With this black mold inside my lungs
I knew it wouldn't be long before
you noticed the wheeze that went along
with me moaning your name.

Now don't tell me I'm perfect
because I can feel your anger
pound in your veins
harder than your dad ever hit you.
I know that when you kiss me
you don't fully push your
body against mine
and your stomach shrinks away
from my hands
because they were on her chest
earlier that week.
And you know it now.
You know now that you
aren't the only person
to have taken pleasure from
my double tongue piercing.
She felt the venom sink
in as I bit her neck and she
shivered, getting high off me
and I got drunk on her,
and we could not be healthy.

But there's nothing I could
say to reassure you
because you have seen the way
I stare at stars,
and she's an entirely different
planet to me.

If the eyes are the gateway
to the soul, then I have
seen hell fire, and the
lights of heaven.

He claims me to be an
angel but I don't think he
sees the murky water full
of my pollution in my entire
being.
Eyes looking like a sea during
a storm.
So how can he claim me to
be so calm.
I am a life raft being
crushed under my own chaotic
waves of temper.

My body feels as
if it lives on a slab. How
can you claim that I am
so alive.

I will not deny that I am
strong. To a degree.
I will not claim to be a
lamb asking for more people
to try and butcher me.
Only rabid beasts
feed because there is meat.

They say my sweet blood
attracts mosquitos.
My rotten flesh attracts
maggots.
My short dress attracts the
monster.
Feeding on flesh they
strip away from my bones
with their teeth.

The cobra of my nightmares
loved to toy with me. I was
not a meal. I was play time.
He loved to watch me squirm.

He locked me away in a box
of secrets, of bruises, and
stolen virginities.
You can't lie down with the
enemy without getting *****.
I am still drawn to the
smell of his poison. I once
mistook it for home.
I got choked up on his
fumes of arrogance.
The *******
intended to **** me.
But he only freed
who I was meant
to be, a bit too soon.

I crumbled. I
wasn't in ruins for
long though. Like a much
needed bridge, I was
rebuilt quickly. Only to
extend my usage time.
Though, unlike the engineers
I learned.
  I used stronger materials.
  Dark methods no one would
  attempt to undo to get a
  snip of my wool.
  I became a goat instead.
A symbol of the unholy.
I thought it was
fitting, seeing how you
injected me with that
exact same thing.

You didn't feed it to
me, make me drink it,
or force it upon me.
you only planted it.
I watered it.
I watered
the being I was
to the point of
drowning.

You injected it like
a serum to fix my
paralyzed state.
Like a ******
addict absorbs their
dope in hopes they
actually see god this
time.

Unlike his brother,
I don't need opiates
to feel at home.
In jesus's arms.
All I have to do is
look in his eyes.

They're still bright.
Still...
I had a friend, when my
eyes were lightning.
He told me to burn
bright.
But you see,
I'm not very good at
listening.

I've used up that flame
to build my body, ground-up
with day dreams I was a phoenix.
I am vibrations
lost on the
decibel scale.
Screams stuck in
ears of the dead.
The tortured only
enduring what they
fought for.
We all knew what was
at risk
choosing this life.
I'm always gambling
my freedom.
Funny how we throw away
things we only lusted
after.
Especially when they get
boring, decayed in place.
Now what's really
tedious is when lost
dreams rot in your
brain like inoperable
cavities.

Now, I think my pale
skin and boney body
might be misleading.
When I say 'feel me'
I don't mean caress me
with the hairs on your
knuckles, afraid
your fist might break
my brittle bones.

Now, when I say feel me,
I mean leave imprints of
your nails and handprints
all over my body.
Mark me up like a little kid
tears up mud
trying to make art.
Get messy and tangle my hair.
Pick me up, and throw me on the bed.
Make me fear gravity and
laugh as I land hard, your
body lands harder on top of me.

Don't massage my back,
rather arch it and snap
my neck back
as you pull my hair harder
than any horse rein.
Shove my face into the pillows
trying to make me be quiet.
Smack me so hard you leave
fingerprints claiming me yours.
Put me on counters anywhere,
sinks in abandoned bathrooms.
Take me to concerts and have
me compete in the back with the
screaming fans.

Give me carpet burn in every place
possible, more bruises than I can count.
Rip my clothes, trust me, I didn't
spend much on them.
Worship each part of my body
and make it yours.
Have me do the same
and make
me
yours.

I may be small.
But there is a fire in my chest.
I don't think you've
tested the heat yet.
Just...
I hope you brought burn cream.

Don't try to kiss
my lips, call me your
fairy tale princess.
I know you saw me kiss her
as I twirled my fingers
through her purple hair.
You saw my drunk *** try to
walk and her catch me before
I tumbled down the stairs.

Don't say that I love you,
and if I don't,
you'll **** me until I do.
I'm sorry to burst your
bubble, but I don't sing in
the morning as birds get me dressed.
I don't write pretty love
poems.
I write about the images
of flesh melting off
of skulls. The skin ripping
away from the cheek bones
quicker than I ripped my
wrist out of your grasp.
Do not try to kiss
me as I wake up, saying
that if I didn't want you, why
would I share a bed with you.
If you don't recall,
I was awake all night
on the other side.
Thinking about someone
I like to call Lucifer
before he made his fall.

There are not secrets
in my collar bones,
love in the crook of my
arms.
There are bruises in place
instead. I became Raggedy Ann
as he picked me up by the
arm and slammed me down again.
Concussions, cuts, bruises on
even my ***. I tried to fight back.
His hands around my throat
yelling that I wasn't strong enough
to take him. Pushing with the
only muscle I have somehow I kicked
him in the face.
Oh god he was ******* me up then.

But when mom came home, he never touched me.
Then the drunkard screamed about my
weakness, he practically threw me
in the air like a baker
and his pizza crust.
I was just food
to his animal eyes, he swatted
my hand away like a fly.
He did't heed my warning
so when he pushed me again,
trust me. I socked the *******
in the face.
I left shaking and he left
clutching his jaw, lip
already ******.

I still limp, with my fading blue hair.
My bruises like eggs on Easter,
I just keep finding them.
Do not kiss my bruised knuckles
thinking I will wake up
out of my anger.
Try kissing my swollen hand.
Where I caught myself from being
pushed down.
Maybe then I will look at you like
a normal human being
instead of you taking me as your god.
I am nothing of the sort.
I am a stubborn lying *****.
I got right back up.
He kept pushing me and I
kept rocking him.
Do not take me as a warrior.
Do not take me as a princess wrongly
treated.

I weigh 100 pounds,
trust me I flew through that air.
My first fist fight anything but
fair.
But at least this skinny *****
got a few hits in.

We wished that 2 am
could last forever.
Where we can walk
barefoot to get coffee,
and you spoke to me
in the only language
you thought I understood.

Your words spilled
out of your mouth
in the form of
poetry.
Metaphors saying
that you could be my
******.

We were lost in a different
universe where I didn't know
where I was
but I knew where your
lips were.
But then again we were also
high on acid, and
various other
illegal substances.

But the substance hidden
in your saliva got me
higher than any strain
of marijuana could.

When he tells me that
you lie about everything
and live to get ******
up, I tell him I know.
You live to **** with my
head and you whisper lies
as many times as you whisper
you want me.

He asks why I enjoy
your company.
I can't let him know
that it's because some
part of my brain
thinks that the dimension
of us happening ever again
will slip back open
and we can slide back into
each other.

You are a lie more intricate
than the northern lights.
But there are flaws and
ridges so deep
in you, I could
call you the
grand canyon.
Because you told me once
that you had lung
cancer.
I said that the
tumors had
expanded and popped.
and it explains
why they suddenly
disappeared
and a new disorder
formed
in your spine.
You blew out smoke
much longer than
you blew intoxicating
promises into my ear.
Said you had MPD
and I was the opposite
of your medicine.
Said every word you
spoke took
a pebble out of
of the hole inside you.

I told you that I lived
in fantasies in my head
and you said I dropped
an atomic bomb inside you.
That I was the bane of your
existence and when you got hung
up on what addictions do to you,
I whispered that they destroy everything.
You stopped in the street and
stared at me.

Then it was the kind
of coffee I got.
I got vanilla cupcake
and you teased me on how
I want what's normal.
How I am liquid and I
fit to whatever container
I am put in.
But baby you see, when you
asked for an explanation
you didn't want the one I had.
I went to tell you that
my mind isn't stable
and I'm never in one place,
so when I kiss you,
it's hidden in a garden
in my mind and I'm not sure
it really happened.

Yesterday you apologized.
Said I don't really love
him and you don't love your
partner.
I kissed you with my thumb
in the way,
and I swore if I could
of just moved it
the world would shift upside
down and I would
be tripping with you
at 2 am again.

When we sat on my porch,
as the sun came up,
you said you wish it could of
lasted forever.
But the thing with forever
is I can't do commitment.

Maybe it's best that 2 am
is just another dimension
where people walk around bare
foot
blowing clouds of lust
into each others mouths
poetry falling off my fingers
like a hang nail,
hurts just a bit
to get that deep in my words
that they don't even flow right.

Maybe it's best that we only
exist where we float in our
personality disorders.
We are more than one person,
souls caught in our head
fighting to take control,
seeing a weakness and lunging,
and you are my weakness.
Explains why when I'm with
you I forget that he exists,
while when I'm in my head
he is my everything.
You...
You said I've never been addicted
to you, and if I gave you the
chance my life would change.
But darling I had one
taste and I'm hooked.

From the first night that
we got so high
hair was pulled and mouths
were stuffed
I was... I was stuck.
And I have been stuck on you
ever since.
We exist in a universe
that only the dark allows.
No eyes to pry.

2 am is where
we aren't in a relationship.
2 am is where I
can kiss you
and you pull me away
saying that won't
stop your question of
why I do it?
What do I feel?

What I feel is 2 am
tugging at my knees
pulling me down,
begging it not to become 6 am.
Because I'm addicted to you.
I am addicted to the night
where the streets are empty
and we can lay on gravel
and stare at the lights.
I told you before.

Addictions destroy you.

We will leave you in the midst
of a poetic truce, as you spill
experiences into our open palms.

Writing to make sense of what
has happened, nestling your
deepest secrets in our fingertips.

Our roots so deep in our poetry,
if you tried to unearth us, we would
shriek louder than banshee's.

Unravel our words, enter the
labyrinth of our minds, there are
sunsets in our stomachs, and
December runs through our veins.

We are the stars to your blank skies,
the pause between each ragged breath,
the tragedy suffocating the air.

We are the pause before the applause.
We are rarity's like Haley's comet
making you scramble for a telescope.

Only crows writhing with broken
necks are more twisted than the life
stories resting under our tongues.

We are poets, engraved in history,
fluent in all that is artistic and worldly.

Poetry a warm blanket we remain
hidden in on a cold winter morning.
Reality is a cold floor that our
bare feet are too scared to touch.

*By JannaLee Perry and Rapunzel

You don't know me.
I don't know if you
ever will.
You said you don't
understand
how I've grown
into a beast with
a memory problem of
reality.
It slips through my
fingers quicker than
sand. When I close my
eyes you are just dark
smoke hanging off where
I am touching.
You've grown into a demon
only pure where love
brushes you.
And you have fallen in
love with my touch.
Because my toxin is like
in math
and my negativity is
an antidote to your
empty.

I'm seeing white noise
and hearing white walls
my skin is still running
with the slugs in my
veins.
It's gotten to my brain.
melting, on fire, feels like
it's gone haywire
a needle pricking every
millimeter.
A hand's gone through
my skull
holding all my thoughts
so they
stop passing right
through like cheese
and a cheese grater.
My skin is being
peeled off in slivers
attempting scarification
trying to make my decomposition
some kind of beautiful damnation.
And
you don't know me.
I don't even know who
I am anymore.
No reflection shows in the mirror.
Searching for reality
but getting normality.
I'm out of my head
feeling crazy.
Snort some of this,
smoke that,
drink this,
Suddenly it's okay
that I don't see things
from my eyes.
My medication never used
just stuffed in an
altoid can. Traded for
dollar bills so I can
trip again.

My words slide off my tongue
like my spit when I bend
over the toilet,
too much whiskey,
too much *****,
no chaser was needed.
Don't tell me you know what
it's like to always see your
skin but you never feel
inside of it.
Don't tell me you feel
the ground as if it's putty
because trust me I sink into
the ground if I stay still.
Which is why my mind jumps
from topic to topic
never getting stuck.
If I think too long, I drown
and I don't think I want to die
yet.

He said if I wanted something real
to make sure I involved him in it.
He wanted his life to mean something.
I - apologized if I dragged him down.
I won't hear from him in awhile...
Let me tell you about this man.
He's australian. One of the nicest
men I've met and his accent really
only ever comes out when he's drunk.
He wanted to give me the adventure
I thought I've been giving myself
that inside of my head but my body's
been still for so long I never realized...
The adventure I was seeking set
my putty world is around my
ankles. You see my mind's been stuck,
the film ended it's course,
the person supposed to switch them out
fell asleep, the black screen of my mind
has grown stale.
I'm waist deep in the quicksand of
my memories. The lion of my nightmares
lurking near by and man she really
loves this sink hole and the prey
that the annoyance gets her.

Maybe if I hadn't of shown him all
sides of my personality he wouldn't
of burned holes into each
facet I had.
If I've learned anything from this
I've learned do not get stuck
on the sticky tape in the kitchen
meant for fly's thinking
it can get the bugs out of your head.
The infestation of his black ink
is like a prison tattoo on my
neck like the bruises he left
on my wrists when I fought back.
I no longer know who's living inside
the walls of my mind.
But I do know that he lives on the other side.
He lived like a rat infesting the ceiling.
Rotted like black mold behind my
stove and I tore that house down.
Broke the pilot light, let it explode.
I never looked back, but I think he sensed
the poison in the air, thought it was just his
sweat until he realized I had left him.
He ran to me, got a limp from the shrapnel.
He's like a ghost haunting me from outside,
like a boogy man and I think I might call
the cops because peeping Toms are such
a nuisance right?

Getting nosebleeds from cut straws and the
blended memories I keep snorting,
thinking maybe the drip won't
taste as bad this time
and I've grown addicted to the flashbacks
and change in reality that this monster gave
me when he dug his fangs into my artery.

But really from day to day my face changes.
Maybe I too have become a shifter,
in a world of fun house mirrors.
Define who I am with my horrorscope,
read my palm a couple
times, analyze my dreams.
But darling I honestly doubt
you'll ever know me.

We're creatures of
dusk. Creatures of dawn
with our skin embedded
with snowflakes.
Your face perfected
so you don't melt
deep in your core
under all the pressure.

There are crows
with necks as broken
as all of your promises
lying in your collar bones.
Secrets kept in your lungs.
Taking up so much space
and rotting so completely
the doctors have called
them tumors.

I fell in love with a knight
who collects kisses
and shared beds with our
kind.
My ways of excitement
got old. So he went in
search of your ice covered
lungs, skin being eaten alive
like his.

You weren't ensnared on his
sharp teeth like I was.
He chewed me up,
but on the attempt to spit
me out my hood got caught
on his canine teeth.
I got lost in the woods.
Found the carcass of
a fox while he got lost in
your purple hair and your
firework display burned
into his memory.

It started off me disliking you.
Then your French Angelfish
looks that caught his attention
attracted mine.
  With your whispers in my
  ear, finger twisted bridges,
  connecting a world I never
  thought would of existed.
  Planting seeds on my lips,
  watering them with your
  spit, I can't stay away.

I burn like a wildfire
and you pop like a fire *******.
Dusk and dawn
being two different worlds tied
together like our tongues.

  My knight has a noose around
  my neck as I jump off
  a cliff for you.
   But for right now we
   exist like a Mayan civilization.
   Knowledge never touching
   the present, but brushing it.
   So great it's been forbidden.

But us creatures you see,
our blood runs backwards
and our eyes dilate at the
scent of danger.
  Adrenaline, our ******
  IV's pumping it into our
  artery's.
We've never been the kind
for reading warning signs.

   We sway on tight ropes
   giggling at our lost balance.

Forbidden isn't in our vocabulary,
our two different worlds touch.

   A supernova in the twilight.
   We are an astronomers dream.
   Take me to Mars.
   I'll teach you how to moan
   "Astrid" so that Pluto can hear
   the echo of dawn and dusk
   colliding like the whole nation felt
   the twin towers falling.

Life is a big ball of yarn.
Each passing second being
braided into the past,
the present being set in
stone and the future
keeps changing.

I feel my body turning into
dust. Instead of just
floating in the life I've
been given, the yarn
pulls strands of my hair,
pulls dead skin off my
pillow. It pulls my tears
and drops of blood away.
It moves bits and pieces
of me into history.
I feel myself decaying.

They no longer know
who I am. I feel
like saying, "People change
when they know they're
dying."

The world becomes black
and white and clouds
are shadows. Lights become
the sun and the sun
is just another
rotting planet.
    The world is decaying.
    Trees all dead, leaning with
    leaves made of dead skin.
    All the yellow dandelions
    higher than the stoner downstairs.
    The white weeds don't have
    seeds. Just acid leaking
    out of them and the
    smoke we breath out reeks
    of lost hope and dead
    promises.

Do not ask me why
I reply so slowly.
It's because honestly
nobody speaks loudly
enough for me to hear
over the screaming
of people drowning in my
stomach acid.

    I can see his shadow
even in the dark.
The demon not with
horns or fangs.
No tail, his reflection
shows and pictures can
be taken.
    Just another twisted
    thought inside my mind.

I feel his arsenic breath
get closer with each passing
day.
    He will not leave me
alone until he can tie my
phalanges together. Have
a crown of my broken
bones to show that he is
the king of my skeleton.

    I feel him inside my
skin crawling, faster than
my slowing heart beat. He
survives in my battery
acid blood. He thrives
off my scorched insides.
You see hell is his home.
He's at peace with death.
    His mind is twisted more
than my body when
    he ****** me.

He demanded a queen but
when he got a servant
he took advantage of my
calloused hands and bruised
mind.
    You see this man
    was no king.
    Just a black market
    dealer
      who didn't know how
      to keep his hands off
      of the merchandise.

   He never had any customers
   but broken girls.
   So when I was whole
   he was intrigued.
     I was a box
     he took everything out.
     Broke me down,
     laughed as the trashman
     took me to next town.

I've said before
that you don't know
me.
But I'm pretty
sure that I don't
know myself either.
I've changed so much in
the past week that
my skin has become
tarnished.
He destroyed my insides
and put holes on my
outsides. I've extended
the damage he did by
dwelling on it.
His face engraved in
my brain
and his name tattooed
under my tongue
like a ***** secret
you have to bite on.

I remember his voice,
and the record gets stuck.
The world around me
disappears and I can
see him holding me down
trying so hard to get into
my pants.
He told me I shouldn't
be scared.
My hands were above
my head and I couldn't
wipe away the tears.

He let me go and I ran
trying to go home.
He held me, told me
it was okay and
to stay.

He grew like mold inside
me.
I want to say it's my
fault I let the infection
grow this big.
I saw all the signs but
I never tried to get
rid of it.
I was mercury and he
was room temperature.
I melted in his seemingly
normal presence.

When people spoke
I never listened.
I thought I deserved
to rot in my own ****.

I got worse with my
victim mind set.
I let him soak into
my skin not caring if
it made my insides rot.

He still lives under my
skin. Like tapeworms he
makes my stomach crawl.

I saw him as a knight
but little did I know he
got his armour from party city.
He dressed up for me
at first.
Then he started wearing a different
mask.
He got controlling.
I broke his curtain
tumbling through a window
and he hit me.

Flashbacks like car lights
in front of my eyes.
I stand in it reveling
at the thought that I
can handle a car hitting me.

My mind is so intertwined
with his body
I feel his hands
gripping my wrists.

Like wives were buried.
with their husbands
and never mentioned.
I am still under his
thumb and my ashes
will be spread over
his grave to symbolize
how he engulfed me.

We stand on tonight
with adrenaline running
in our veins
   Taking pictures,
   videos
capturing every moment
   to make sure we don't
forget this.
   Because we take tabs of
acid outside McDonald's
and venture to some park.

The trees become the air
and my skin is liquid
vibrating through your
bones.
   Playgrounds and swing sets
become home.
   Truth or dare's muttered
from closed lips.

And then it's him.
With his nicknames for
everything. I am his
crazy little girl.
   That alone "I am his"
   has my stomach tumbling
   like tumble ****.
I find him at a gas
station.
Then I find myself
in his van and
we're on a road
trip to the edge of
the world.

We are as fluid as
the blood in my veins
   walking through the
   gate to sins. *****
   is in my hand.
"**** it" whispered in my
   ear
and trust me. I chugged the *****.
  Like water,
    But they said they
    had sympathy burns
    in their chest.

We lit the world on fire.
   Called it a challenge.
Begged the world to be
as stupid as us to light
our hands on fire.
  Trying to touch
     the end before
we're really there.

We stood on the night
opening cans with our
teeth.
  Whiskey on our taste
  buds.

She held my hand and I
could feel her insides shiver.
   My veins were on fire
   and I could feel them
   twist around each other
   like grapevines trying to
   help me grow into
   something better.

We stood on top of last
night.
Had it on the ground
in a choke hold.
Sat on it's back
  Pulling it's hair.
The ground was ours
to walk on and I
swear I was real.

I was in my skin
and saw through my eyes.
I felt my own flesh
burn.
    And I promise you
    I breathed air through
    my own lungs.
    I touched everyone
    with my own finger
    tips.

People were art
   and I was a
   deaf student
   with eyesight as
   a feast.
Your personalities are
   entrees and all I want
   is to have a taste.

   You are all books.
   And I have had
   thirst for your words
   since birth.

Tonight is the end
of my world.
And I will make
peace with loose ends.
  But I promise you
  there will be more
  threads than when
I started this quest.

But my insides run with
liquids I don't understand.
Bittersweet honey runs from
my eyes when I cry.
    My sweat is
    sickeningly salty
and my blood does not
run red. It is sugar
tore from a cinnamon
bun between your teeth.

Tonight I am inside my
head and I am
   real.
   Let me discover
what my brain whispers
in the dark when
I'm alone.

How do my knees quake
   when I'm scared?

You say you love
   me so well.

What do you love?
Because it's a road
trip to the edge of
the world.

I have grown into my skin
and I don't think you
know what I feel like full.
I have been empty and
gone.

But tonight I'm here.

I stand on tonight
   and I am here.
I am alive.
  and I am your crazy
   little girl.

We organize our
lives into lines
when we are fluid.

We cry and cling
"accept me."

We exist backwards.
We are explosive beings.
Trying to contain our
essance into bottles
when we alone are
galaxies.
   Our mind's a
   universe of it's
   own.
We are like a song
  trying to tie itself
    into 3 minutes
      long.
When really
   we are the overflowing
   water in a bathtub
   you wish you really could of kept.
Because we
are the last few
minutes of the remix.

We are the best.

I've said this a million
times before.
But I want my footprint
to stay in the sand.
I want it to be so big
so that when the ocean
tries to wash me away
it'll fall in my memory.
I want to be so big
so that no one can move me.

Just erosion and peoples
memory.
Everything gets twisted.
I mean you remember that game
telephone?
Yeah. Haha everything gets
twisted.

One day my words won't have
the same meaning.
I'm alright with that.
I mean I do believe in
evolution.

My motto and mantra
has been "**** it."
And it's been ******* me over.
I thought I'd splash around
in life a bit.
Jumped head first.
Man I didn't really think
About the distance.

I'm drowning in everything.
I love it.
My body's been adapting.
It learned that drugs
change my perception
and then I can breathe.

I'm working on getting
a breathing tube.
Healthier.
Turns out drugs make
you need one of those too.

My blood runs black.
I blame myself and the
tar I dreamt about last night.

Dreams aren't ideas.
Just thoughts and figments.
Idea's are the only things
that really stay.
Like I can remember a cereal
I was going to create at
seven.
But I can't remember
exactly what I thought
when my dog ripped my
doll's head off.

My skin crawls
with the broken
promises you keep
picking out of your
teeth.

But I have my share
of those underneath my
fingernails so I guess
I shouldn't open my mouth.

We all have lies tucked
under our tongue
like the pills of a stubborn
mental patient.

My spine shivers
with the fact
you probably moaned
in her ear like
you do mine
and I feel needles
***** my skin
as I think of you
saying I'm no longer
needed.
But the way you
pushed me against
a brick wall, and
balled your hand in
my hair and held
me like I was
the only safety you had
during a hurricane
had me a bit dizzy.

You didn't know what
you were doing without
me, and then wished
you had never talked
to me.

But the way you
smirked as I moaned
your name
and the way you
inched your way
through my brick walls
has me obsessed
with you again.

You're a dark knight
and your armour
doesn't exist.
The only protection
you have is your
******* attitude.

I once said your
eyes were lassos
around my waist
and I never realized
how true that was.

Because it doesn't
matter what you do.
For some reason I
keep going back to you.

Like worms in the pit of
apples there are maggots
in the pit of my veins.

I am fossil fuel and
I'll run out eventually.
You can't depend on me.
   My skin is a monument
   and I am slowly chipping
   away.

Every lake is Elaura's
but they're still puddles
grass as tall as trees.
   Vines digging through
my cochlea, swishing the
liquid and I swear I
hear god coming.

The nineteenth you kissed
me. She was in your mind
all night and you stayed with
the man who declared me
"Mine."

My skin is crawling of nightmares.
and my eyes have spiderwebs
in them. Cobwebs of dead love
growing on my eyelashes.
   Don't expect me to cry.
   My tears are just dew
   on the grass above my
   grave.
     My tears are just acid
     rain decaying my memory.

The sharpie we swear
will stay decays under
my nails.

"I didn't try to **** myself."
    I'm out in four days.
"I was just ******."
    And these burns mean nothing.
I lie so often I don't know
what honesty means.
    I read it backwards
    spell it with an "A"
and now honesty just means
    a complicated puzzle and
    a kindergarten mind.

My veins are so twisted
I don't even know if they
pump blood right.

I don't really think I'm
alive.

He said he no longer knows
the person who wears my
mask of a face.
   The bones are ripping through,
   and I feel Jekyll coming out
   of Hyde.

I'll fall off cliffs and land
in lava before you work out
the knots of tree branches
in my joints.

   My tendons are worms
and my bones are cracked concrete
that you can't fix by pouring
more in me.

It tastes worse than brick
going into my lungs but I
stick it there
like a lock and moan
as it pierces my heart
and breaks a few ribs.
   Because it's smoke.
   I asked for the pain
   and enjoyed all three
   ****** of sharks puncturing
my arteries.
  
My heart is metal
but you still short
circuit
my mother board and
I swear this ship is
going down.

Let's make it the Titanic.
or maybe Romeo and Juliet.
Have people romanticize our
tragedy.

Then I'll smile through
my tears.
   Maybe we can bow during
   the standing ovation too.

I floated in you as
we ran and you held me
against the wall
and I was very inside
your arms, I was
in you.

He came down as we got
high. You had me on
lock down because I
ran through the basement
and you couldn't keep up
very well. As they questioned
my ability to keep running
as my lips stuck to my teeth.

Staring at you across the room
your eyes raked my body
and your knees shaked.
I'm pretty sure you bit your
lip and stared at me
for awhile.

I was tripping in the hallway when
you came out.
The wall was liquid
and I was painting
with it.
I'm friends with your kind
of ex girlfriend
and I want to feel her
skin against mine.
I want her bones to
grind with me.
And I know I'm very ******
up right now.
But I'm floating in a crowd
and somehow I'm holding
my bladder down.
I am air
and nothing can touch me.

I have to be the image of
perfection soon.
So help me god,
I am no where near
having a halo.

Well you see,
my skin melted
into a lot of things
last summer. Even my
bones mixed with a
few.

The fact that everything
became a liquid river
passing around my ankles
didn't help.
Time became a
cloud that a giant
walks through on his
way to get food.

My stomach and head
got a little sea-sick on
this voyage. Their ears
never really popped from
this altitude.
My body shivered from
the OD.
My skin burned and
melted with him.
Trees grabbed my
hair, leaves stained my
cheeks.

I had rotten skin
for bones and cracked
ribcages for flesh.
The rivers were
fire and the fish
rocks of ice.
A beast by my side
through hellfire.
Her eyes were marbles.
Her flesh cracked glass.
Her hands were iseicles.
Ripped tendons looking like
dreads hanging from her
head.

But this is only how she
looked in Neverland.
In my geometry class
you never would of guessed
she bent time around her
fingers, squished it into liquid,
painted her nails with it.

Everything is liquid with
her.
She could turn you into
fine wine or a **** stain
on the pants of a scared
kindergartner.

Walking into her house
the walls are mallible
black fur.
They'll nick your change
out of your pockets.
One time it ******
her dad into it.
She said he hasn't
emerged in 5 days.
"He's changed." She says.
"He said it's a way
to Neverland but, mom
says he comes home smelling
like Narnia." She whispered.

They had eyes. The walls.
I could hear them
churning. Black liquid that
gurgled and popped like
an exploding guinea pig
in the microwave.
The fur moved like legs
on a centipede.

Everything got mixed
up and colors stopped looking
the same.

I stayed over at her
house one night,
and I swear to
God faries came.

They called my
beast a pirate.
Said she's been
off duty too
long.
They thought I
was asleep.
In the morning
we walked out
her door and we
fell into the sky.
We fell through
time.
The world became
white and black.

We landed in the
ocean, emerging
through the sand.
She became a
new kind of being.
Her eyes were 8-*****.
Hair, blue fire,
and her skin was
moving black smoke.

She said I looked like
something she could
get addicted to.

One night I found
my hand melted in
her hair,
my hip bones
became Lego pieces stuck
to hers.
Fingers mashed in
places they couldn't
be seen.
Her eyes kept answering
my question of "should
I keep going" with
"**** yes". Her mouth
stretched smoke that
you could lose your mind
in.
Her body a maze
that I couldn't wait
to figure out.
We grew gills
and kept
breathing each other
in.

She said it was
a solstice one night
as we got lost in
seaweed.
I asked her what
that meant.
Before I knew
it, the ocean
****** us up
and the sky
spit us out and
we fell with the
rain. We were hail
being delivered with
drumrolling thunder
and lightning.

We didn't return
to "Earthly" beings.
We stayed in the
flooded streets, gills
still only needing
the other.

She said
she had to return
to Neverland,
but she wasn't sure
if I could go.

We'd find out soon
enough.
Just how,
do we get there?
She pointed to a sky
scraper.
Her see through
fingers found my skin.
She said my eyes looked
like black holes, my skin
had the milkyway trapped
beneath it.

Hopping from rain drop
to rain drop we got to
the top of that building.

We had to wait until
sunrise.
She told me the grass
is smooth like
the seaweed where
we're going.

That my blood would
look like northern
lights.
My mundane mind
wouldn't exist, I
wouldn't feel dead
anymore.
She said we'd be like
Bonnie and Clyde.

When the sun peeked
at our side of the earth
she told me
I might not pass through.
She said that might
be her case too.

She said we'd find Neverland
if we jumped off of that
building.
But all we found was our
bones infused in the concrete.

Glass has been shattered.
He's shattered.
On the floor and
I don't know who he
is anymore.
The light from the
exploding sky
has no clue which piece
of him is fit to shine
off of. Like all of him
is just so dark, no light
could ever escape to reflect.
    
There are always hidden
sights, you just have to
care enough to see. A Chinese
hut on the mountain with a
waterfall that turns into
the night sky.
There's a man in the sky
who's got tentacles for
half of his face. Northern
lights turning into vines
and flowers. A waif living
in acid with a cape of smoke.

The cracks in your lips
aren't just from the dry
weather. Your teeth are
rotten. I know it started in
your jaw. From clenching it
so hard. It started in the roots
of your molars. Was that just
the cigarettes? Has it spread?
Is that why the bags under
your eyes look like you're
leaving for good?
You carry it all on your
shoulders. Is that why
they always lean forward?
Guess you ran out of room,
wiped your eyes, set the
carry ons down there.
Your eyes droop already but
you'll be ****** in an hour.
Maybe you'll get so high you
can hang on to a plane,
find your destination
from the sky. It'd be easy right?
A place without clouds.
You want to see the skies so clearly
the angel's are practically
right next to your face. You could
stroke her wings with your eyelashes.
That is if you even blink. They wipe
away the poison spilled on your
tongue. They rub off your
bitterness like it's my eye shadow
on your shoulder. Pat your head,
erasing the memory of me. Because
I'm Alfalfa's out of place
cow lick that forgot how to stay
in its chains of hair gel and grease.
Forgot how to keep low,
forgot how to keep my neck
out of reach of all the razor
blades threatening me from the
walls. A conversation with you
is like putting on a ******...
Which we never do. How ironic right?
    
You're shattered. Been taken hostage
by the words in your head. Or maybe
I never knew you at all. Maybe you've
always been cracking, and I got to see
the tape give up and peel. I watched you
pick at the glue. I've seen you smile
as your entire being spilled through
the cracks. I missed the suspension of the
show getting a joint for your flowers.
I thought I'd get something to make you cough
instead of sneeze. I was thrown into
your big crowning glory. The huge
******. The insanely dramatic
denouement. When everything left, you
crumbled in. Your empty bones became
sand inside of you. I watched you in the
middle of the circus ring. All lights
focused on your skin. Your left knee
in the center of a couple cross wires.
The red dot sight focused on your chest
a ruse for us to expect firecrackers soon.
The dot shaking unsteadily having us on
the edge of our seats. The lights are
alternating, spinning, going faster than
the blood pumping past my ears. Somewhere
drums sped up and clowns slid out of
balloons like mercury. All shiny, their
eyes sliding up and down from fingertips,
to their right shoulder. They danced, spun,
Their bodies reflecting the light's lies to
our ears. The lies spin, transforming flying
at me faster than your fathers words cut your
strength. He slit your resilience's
jugular and already choked out your
light. We saw none of this. Eyes
focused on the red dot. You're swaying,
half way through the tight rope taking
a ****. The same star design circling
the ground becoming your pupils.
You never exhaled. But we see that last
cloud of THC seep out of your pores.
Liquid clowns suspended by your perspective,
start giggling at my shaking hands.
Their lies almost cover me like spiderwebs.
I feel them lick their lips like I'm
a meal they can't wait to pick out of
their teeth.
And I whisper "My bones will pierce your
lungs. I am made of razor blades, hollow
pipes, and my blood is infected with
plutonium. He is already glass, dust, you
find an annoyance to sweep off the
floor."

Cobwebs made of dead skin falling from my
ears, sliding off like an unsupported
pair of sunglasses. I hear no bullet.
But I see you get another puff out of
the roach. You smile, spread your arms.
******, tattered, wings rip from your
shoulders. The angels didn't give you the
beauty they promised. Lies are like enamel,
layered in everyone's mouth. Your last words
were shouted into a crowded circus tent,
but they echo only inside my pulse. Seconds
pass like minutes. Children giggle in
front of me. Intoxicated on the whiskey
they sipped from their dad's coca-cola.
Their father's looking at the pictures
he took of his secretary. The mom at the
house "working". Too busy riding the same
secretary's face to tag along. Everything
floating by me. Strings I could pluck, make
music out of dead lives for the bullet
fighting it's way towards my mosaic window.
He's shattered. His insides decayed. His
body condemned. The mortician said no
embalming was needed with this one.

I was too busy focusing on how your body
swallowed the light. You became a swirling
black cloud of battery acid. Sulfur
assaulting my airways. Arsenic unnoticeable
but my stomach covered in it, eating my
organs. Everything went into you.
There was no shadow, everything was
engulfed in your tornado. No silhouette
for my peripheral vision to catch while I
watched your magic trick. How long have
you been dead?

You tried to put on my gear, armour, if you
will, I burned it. Not wanting to give
you the satisfaction of helping me
while simultaneously snapping every bone
in my body. You couldn't prepare me for
this. No matter how much you tried
to explain, I wouldn't be able to grasp
the red dot disappearing, a bullet going
though your knee cap. The boney see through
wings tearing through your skin. Shouting
"I'm golden."
The wings tried to take your body with them,
but the rotted bones weighed your
cracked shell of a body down.
Your take off failed. Furthermore the angels
****** you up, they went back on their deal.
Your eyes shine like they've had halo's
stuck in them for years. You're 17, ******
up in the head, and your last words were
a reassurance.
    
Did you know I'd hear you?
Did you know your body would explode
into a cluster **** of gases? Toxic enough
to singe your eyebrows.
Everyone's cheering. I see the spiderweb
lies stuffed in their ears like cotton
I wasn't wearing safety goggles.
I wasn't ready for your skin
to fall like ashes. Bone shards stuck in
the ceiling. One jutting from the
moving eye ball of a clown.

I realize you've become a snake.
Shedding and leaving your skin by
my back door. Habit's changed.
I'm an old *** rag, that you're
probably never going to wash.
I want to glue you back together.
Lay in bed with you again, have the sun
shine brighter than your eyes.
When I was so deep in love fluff I
hadn't realized someone ****** on
the cotton candy you had just bought.
I want to go back. Everything used to
be so simple. School, work, hang out with
you, go home and sleep.
  
Just tell me one thing...
How'd you fake being alive like that.
You've been dead for months.
But you burned brighter than
The exploding sky that refused
to shine on you. Maybe you breathed
it all in, ****** the entire sun
into your bones.
Is that why you finally crumbled?
  
Why did you die?
Why did you crumble?
Why did I have to find out
at a ****** up carnival?

Inhaling the smoke,
my ****** *** imagined
it being tattooed under
my skin.
I thought if I cut my wrist
clouds of THC would flow
out instead.

I leaned against her, cold,
thinking I'd fall into the
street and have it engulf
me. I swam in the gravel
until she moved and I
snapped back into my body.

Accelerating too fast, I fall
into myself in the carseat
and flying forward with
the break and I was out
of my head again.

And I'm thinking about you
now as the music flies by so
fast it slides over
my ears.
How the last time you grabbed
me like you needed me
was when you ****** me on
a picnic table, ****** in a park
around midnight.

And I remember why I didn't
need *** when I was with you.
You alone gave me short term
memory, made everything feel
smooth. I didn't need a
drug to make the sunrise
beautiful. Not when I could wake
up and turn around in bed
and have your arms to fall into.

Sounds moving to me like
clouds fogging my eyesight.
Pulling me like you did.
Deep vibrations crawling into
my spinal cord.
Shrieking pricking my finger
tips to see me bleed.

Poisoning my body to say
I've lived.
I still feel my skin
crawling from those
extended release beads.
Throat burning from
the pack I smoked just
last night.
The burns on my arm from
when I was too wiped out
to notice my melting flesh.
My skin still remains
liquid. Smoke leaking
through and I have
become a crater.

I have become paper.
Maybe I am on fire
and that's why my head
is still full of smoke
Why I can feel everything.
Why I can see every particle of
dust just as lost as me.

Maybe I am just
air, and that's why
I'm afraid of you touching me.
Your hand will go through my
stomach, touch my spine.
But you will find I have
no backbone.

Just these titanium bars
That tried to straighten
me, make me stand taller.
Tried to fix me.
I learned to grow like a vine.
Like poison ivy I am
smoke creeping through your veins
being tattooed into your DNA.
I learned to grow like a ****.
Wild flowers are weeds aren't they?
Maybe that's why they call me one.
Explains why everything around
me is now dead.
Wildfires are disastrous
but I've heard I shine like one.
Maybe I am harvesting
Everyone's life to make mine
better and longer.

They see beauty in my thinning
addicted body.
Maybe that's why when I was
high, I prayed to God as
the sun lit the road on fire.

I said I didn't think I'd ever seen
anything die so
gracefully.

Its insane how many
memories can be held in
a park.
Or even the
library it's attached
to.
And the McDonalds down
the road.
A couple basements
in one apartment
complex. A couple
basements in another.
The hallway where
your friend used
to live. A concrete
platform.
A couple muddy short cuts.
The gas station across the
street you stole a
30 pack of beer from
and ran here to drink it.
Oh god.
All the times you've
gotten drunk here.
All the times
you ****** in cars here.
You rolled a joint here
once too.
The Walmart over
there where
you got arrested.
That roof top over there.
When you snuck onto elementary
school grounds. That forest
you got high in and couldn't
find your way back home. The
streets you prowled
and made yours
trying to feel alive.

I wish I had enough
time to tell you
why the world is
so cruel.
Or, hell, even enough
words.
Maybe even enough
experience with its
cruelty.

We were all born
innocent.
What turned us
into monsters?
What turned us
into wolves that
nip at lambs.
Their cotton
wool now stuck between
our teeth.

Is it because we
Don't floss enough
And there are
now dead memories
mashed in our
mandibles.
Were our canine
teeth not cut
down soon enough
when we were young.
Did they give me
glasses too soon?
Is that why
I'm still so
blind to the
traps I keep
walking in?

Maybe if they
had waited until
3rd grade instead
of 2nd I'd have
a sense of the
hairs
on the back of my
neck rising.

Maybe I'd have
a sense of danger
instead of giggling
as I fall off cliffs.

You get older not with
time but experience.
Or so I've heard.
I've heard that if
you have enough
memories people will
call you old.

Who the hell gave
memories so much
power.

Who allowed memories
from just a bottle
cap to break down my
walls like they were
fiber glass in winter.

I'm not a glass doll.
So why am I chipping.
Why are my insides
cracking and outsides
freezing in place.

Who gave him the
power to put life
inside of me, and
then decide that
I was too much.

Who let him
play God?

He is beer and
behind the library.
He is cut fingers
muddy knees
bruised knuckles.
Sore necks.
Sore muscles.
He is this ring
The hoodie at home.
The back ground
music to us
*******. He is that
**** van, taco bell
and his dad's wrecked
tourus.
The hand I held
as my knees knocked.

He's the one who's
always been there.

Nobody has ever
made me feel so
full and contempt.

I think of myself
as a scavenger. A
voulture, but I feed off
The living because I
fear I am already
dead.

He made me feel alive.

Now tell me who let
him play God.

You know that stupid
Cherokee Tale I told you
about. With the sun
and the moon and the dying
star?

You can assume that the moon
broke the sun's heart.
Shattered it.
But she still shines
bright. Really ******* bright
that is.
And I bet she
misses him.
Misses him a **** ton.

I miss you a **** ton.
And ****.
I don't know what to do.

I forgot what the emptiness felt like.
I was too focused on the fact that you
took it away.

Come back already **** Face.

You forgot to look up.
You forgot a lot of
things. You whispered
drunkenly once
"I went looking
for the messiah
in his pants,
but just found
the devil."
And I think
everyone
giggled.

We go looking
to forget things
by replacing the
memories with
better ones
with better people.
But... You forgot
a lot of things.
I know... that
I told you to forget
the bad things.
But you just kept
finding his black ink
in everything.
So you forgot it all.

Trying to relearn
your own skin.
But you don't
see it with
out his touch.
You think that
might be why
your skin went
grey and your
eyes got dull.
Your hair
thinned and your
nails turned blue.

He lived in your
bones and maybe
that's why they
got so brittle.

But you know
how your
collar bones get
even stronger
after they break?

You're collar bones
babe. He broke
you. But your
skin is soft
and no longer
with a grey
hue. Your hair
has finally gotten
thicker.

Here you
are sitting
on your
front patio
no longer
looking at
the ground
wising you
were in it.
You're realizing
as you watch
the sunset
that you
forgot to look
up.

We are disposable.
Our bones are
cardboard.
Our skin paper,
our ligaments
plastic.
We are decaying.
A decomposition
pile.
Recycling our lungs,
kidneys,
we do not know
what frugal means.
What being
reserved means.
Our minds
are porous.
Ears wind tunnels
for anything but
music to fly through.
We are disposable.
We are decaying.

My mother used to
tell me of a cherokee
tale. The sun and
the moon were lovers.
but the sun, being the
beautiful star she is caught
the moon in his infidelity
with a much duller star.

This is why the sun
and the moon never
see each other.
This is why the moon
and the sun being
in the sky at the same
time is such a rarity.

Like my father and
my mother. They
never see each other.
Only speak with a
phone and a couple
hundred miles pressed
between their lips.

My mother is the sun,
and this dull star
that tore my life apart
is a ***** empty bottle.
My father is the moon. Not
wanting to give either of
them up...
The sun left him.
My mother left him.
She couldn't stand
to watch his
brain deteriorate.

My father is the
moon. And there
is no man
smiling inside of
him.

You can't make homes
out of people.
I know this okay.
I ******* know this.
God do I know this.
But tell me why when I look
at you I don't want
anything more than to
live in your arms.

When they were screaming?
and screaming.
and screaming.
they wouldn't
stop screaming...
I was in your arms.
and your back was
what I grasped
as some stupid
"oh ****" bar, so I could
cling onto reality.

When he fell and broke
the glass,
and there were
shards in my fingers
from picking it up.
From trying to clean
up the mess,
and maybe show that my
family is functional.
But he fell on me, and then
tipped over and bumped
you. knocked a few
pictures down
before finally falling
into the bathroom.
When I asked if he was bleeding
he responded about
his pierced *******
and not the glass in
his hand.

We laughed.
Because, what else
can you do in
a situation
like this as you watch
your ******* brother
deteriorate.

Just last night they had
another fight.
It ended with a butchers
knife to his wrist.
2 seconds away from
plunging it into
his artery.
And...
If I hadn't
of screamed
he'd be dead and i'd
probably be cleaning his
blood up off the floor,
and off the walls,
and rinsing
it out of the sink.

I took out the trash
and I didn't come back.
I ran to the library
because that's where you
said you were.
I ran to the only
place where I was
comfortable.
I ran to a home.

And I know you can't
make homes out of people.
But god ******...
you are inexplicable.

I forgot the mutter
of my brother saying "ow"
as his first attempt of
cutting his wrist went
awry, because it
kept echoing in my head.
I just heard your laughter
and felt your hand
on my thigh.
I forgot the tears running
down my face,
and me screaming
"what the ****" and the clatter
of the knife.
I forgot it all
and just felt you.

Any argument
ends with "wanna
**** about it?"
Every panic attack ends
with me in your arms
some how, and you're like
a smell of cats, smoke,
and home.
and I know you can't
make homes out of people.
I've long since learned
my lesson.
But maybe you're a building.
A library,
or a dark musty club
that's always warm.
With the smell of ****.
Maybe you're an open loft.

You can't make homes
out of people.
But whatever it is.
I own you.

The world is fake.
An empty play dough
world where all our
heads are in clouds
of derealization.
We’ve lost our touch
with reality
running razors across
our bellies.
Our mind a shaking
bath tub full of
water and bubbles.
Tap it.
Ripple. Splash it.
Wave.
Shake in it.
You’re gone
in the tsunami
Of bubbles over the
side.
You disrupted the peace.
Now you’re cold among
all the popping bubbles.

You made the world a
trembling earthquake of
pain. And it will not
have your *******.

   You are books left
   alone on the library
   tables. Scattered.
   Disorganized. You are
   a mess. You are frowned
   upon. Nobody’s going to
   pick you up. Well not
   until someone who under
   stands the code on your
   spinal cord and
   can handle you like a
   problem, when you want
   to be opened. And your
   pages caressed and your
   tears and rips cried over like
   they should be. Have someone
   finger your creased pages
   as they read the heart breaking
   parts.

       But they put you back
       in your a slot. Where
       you “belong.”
           And you sit there
           silently screaming “learn me"

Kiss the concrete
as you fall for
me
as I am drowning
in you.

This is how it starts.
You stub your finger
and there's
a little hole,
a little entry
way under your nail.

He finds it.
That weak spot
and he slithers in.
He claws his way
through your fingertips.

You see his face and
remember how
greasy it was under
your skin.
You see his bowl cut
you see his lips
you see his eyes
you hear his voice.
And you can't
help but smile
because you don't
understand why
you would ever
be so stuck on
everything he did.
He is no longer
the glue that
sticks you to a
chair.

He asks to have
your arms around
his waist and you
just imagine him
with his hands
around your neck.
You don't cry this
time.
You have a name for
this demon.
You have a stupid hair
cut and a stupid face
for this monster.

His voice isn't
near as mesmerising.
And the wind blows
his scent on you and
you try hard not to
cough.

He does not control
you. Giggle as you feel
the freedom flow through
you like morphine.

I made a monster
out of just a man.
He was my lover
my man.
He was my demon.

I was a ball of clay
for his hands to
mold. To mold my
innocence.
I was his clay
monster to make.
I was his halo to break.

But with the venomous
teeth he gave me,
I bit my creator.
I bit my  teacher.
I bit the hand that fed me.

He made me small.
To cradle in his arms.
He made me weak.
To break in his hands.
He made me small.
to make loving me easier.

He’s taller than I remember.
His shoulders are wider than
I remember.
His face is rounder than
I remember.

I remember his hands.
how scared they were.
I remember his eyes,
How they looked like
red velvet cake.
I remember how my
skin grayed.
How my eyes dulled.
How my hair grew
thin.
I remember how he
changed me.

As a clay ball I
dryed and I stopped
being some beautiful
creature.
He bit me back
with his bigger fangs
and arsenic poison.
I never got used to the
stain. I never built up
a tolerance to you burning
me.
You poked hole in my skin.
So I wouldn’t break when
you put me under heat.

I could feel how you
were baking me.
Perfecting me.
Keeping me forever.

So I screamed. I broke
free with the wings
you mistakenly gave me.
I refused to be
your monster. And you
refused to be my man.
My venom built you into
a demon.

And like a dove I left you.
You may of found
pleasure in the
breakdown of my DNA.

But I was ashamed
of the monster I made.

He is the air I breathe
Everything I see
Everything I feel
Everything I smell
He is inside my skin
He is rotting in my bones.
And I can feel him giving me
Leukemia.
He is an Intracerebral
Hemorrhage making
me go blind and
see blood when
I close my eyes.
Which is why
I’m always confused
and drowsy.  
It would explain my headaches
and seizures.
It would explain my
comas trapped inside
my mind still trapped in his grip.

His hollow eyes
and sunken cheeks
How skinny his face
Is. How he’s the
only thing that
scares me anymore.
Because when he
pulled me out of class
when he pulled me out
of my head. He took
whatever freedom I
had gained. He kept
me trapped inside a cage.

But I’ve begun to think.
Maybe I too am
poisonous. Maybe I
too rot inside of
peoples minds giving
them all four types of Intracranial
Hemorrhages.
Maybe I too make
people go blind at the
thought of my proximity.

And I wonder
what damage he’s
experiencing.

One of these
days I'll forget
how your name
numbs my tongue.

But not today.
Today your name
is hot poisonous
gas trapped in
my ribcage.
Today you
are steam burning
my throat
screaming
"Oh god!"
"Oh god!"
"Oh god!:
because you
are going to
be my
shadow again.

You are going to
be everywhere
again.

I keep
having these
flashbacks
of when I
was choking
on my words
as you held me
down.
Of when
he held up
the camera
and you bent
me over the
couch and
You both
laughed as
I giggled and
whispered "stop please"
instead of screaming
because my mother
was upstairs.
When me saying
"I'm done. No seriously
stop."
turning into your wicked
grins in your rotc
uniforms
pointing at your badges
"we're higher ranked
than you. You aren't
done yet." and that...
******* camera.

Always threatening
to **** yourself
when I did "wrong".
Always threatening-
Always
threatening me.

I was your puppet
and when
I spoke for myself.
another threat.
I got rid of you.
But you dug a hole
under my skin and
crawled right back in.
Shot me in the head
and like a maggot
crawled into my
Broca's area
controlling what I
said.

It got worse.
You were *******
other girls.
I got rid of
you again.
You acted like
we were wolves.
But I heard they
mate for life.
I heard they're loyal.

You my sweet,
are just a worm.

Saying you love me
promising you love
me.
And then texting another
girl the same thing
as you're whispering it
into my ear.

I pushed.
I pushed.
I pushed.
You were a
concrete wall.
A snapped spinal
cord between a
paralyzed man
and using his legs again.
The emphysema
that keeps a
person from breathing.
You were a disease.

And just like brain cancer
you deteriorated me
and controlled me.

For 2 months
you were everywhere.
For 2 months you
were always the
ghost around the
next corner.
You followed me...
Everywhere.
Showing up outside
my house to walk me
to school.
Showing up outside
my classes to tell me
you loved me and hated
me at the same time.

Every time I pushed,
you threatened.
Always another suicide
attempt as I tried to
get out of the grave
you put me in.
You kept throwing dirt
on me and saying "I can
finally breathe!"

I remember that one day,
your hands were ******.
Glass was everywhere.
Your pocket rattled.
My name engraved on
your thigh.
"Janna this blood
is your fault" as it
ran down your leg.
You stuffed pills
into your mouth,
pushed me away
as I screamed
and clawed at your
throat trying to
get them out.

Next time.
More blood,
less pills,
but you were
dizzy, delirious,
saying you love
me, saying goodbye,
throwing up, saying
goodbye, resisting my help,
your hands looked miles away
which is probably why
for once you didn't touch me.

It's taken me
2 months
to realize the
leaves moving
behind me weren't
you running for me.
2 months to realize
the person behind me
isn't going to capture
me and keep me locked up.

You're back from the
mental asylum.
And just the thought
of your brown eyes
breaks down what ever
recovery I built up.

You are an atomic bomb.
And I'm not sure there's
ever going to be a day
where I don't tremble
at the thought of you.
  And if there is, then
  it is not today.

Fall in love
with the way he touches you.
Because you know there
are centuries of love songs
and lonely nights
and soft kisses
in that touch.
You know there are months full
of pain
and hatred
and hot rage
in that touch.
And as his finger
tips burn you
fall in love with the
scars it'll leave
behind.

Fall in love with the
way his lips feel
like cracked pavement.
Fall in love with the
way his hands are
calloused.
Fall in love with the
scratches on his skin
from when he fell down
off the half
pipe.

He is like sleeping
on a rock hard floor
and you just get so
comfortable you don't
realize there are
rocks sticking into your
back.

He is an itchy sweater
you wear anyway
because it keeps you warm
and you forget it scratches your skin.

His ripped up jeans
******* video game
assassin's creed
tattoo.
Fall in love with the way his
eyes are empty
but his hands
are always near.

Fall in love with the
silence he leaves you
with. Fall in love
with the emptiness.
Fall in love with
how he calls you
babe.
    Fall in love with
his everything.
    Fall in love with the
way you finally feel
content and faithful.

Fall in love with the
weird way you love
each other.

Fall in love with the way
air encases you in this embrace
of "I'll keep you alive".
Fall in love with the way
nicotine stains your tongue
Fall in love with the way
alcohol makes you numb.
Fallin love with the way
that you have to risk
everything to be happy.
Because if you aren't
on the verge of death, you
don't fall in love.
If You aren't on the
verge of death, you
don't feel alive.
If you don't see
"the light" you feel
like you're blind.

Fall in love with
heart break.
Fall in love with
your rumbling stomach
fallin love with
thunder clouds.
Fall in love with
danger and heart
attacks, fall in love
with pain.

Fall in love with the
way you waster your
sanity for the sake
of living.
Fall in love with
the wind.
Fall in love
with the grass.
Fall in love with
the sun,
and the snow.
Fall in love with
a terrible artist
fall in love with
a terrible person
and fall in love
with the way
their love burns.
Fall in love with
the way everything
is awkward
and nothing makes
sense.
Fall in love with
stupidity fall in
love with intelligence.
Fall in love with
the things you
hate.
Fall in love with
really stupid sappy
poems that writes
block has written.
Fall in
love with this poem.

Love me like
the worlds
on fire.
Love me so
much it hurts.
I want to
die in your
mouth.
I want to
inhale you,
and have you
kiss my
scorched insides.

I want to be
a folded up
piece of paper
in your back
pocket.

I want to make
you go deaf
from the screaming.

I want your arms around me. I want to hear my name slither out of your mouth like a ***** secret that hurts to conceal. I want to feel your cold hands on my hips again. I want to feel you. I want to feel you. Your hands pressed sweaty palm down on my back, burning a hole into my skin. I am yours. I am yours. I am so yours. I want to hear you caress my ossicles (hammer, anvil, stirrup) by whispering "babe" in my dreams. Making black clouds of lust fly through my head
     Have "I miss you." sound sincere. I want to be whole with you. And I've never wanted to be whole with anyone.
     Broken has always been my adjective. But for some reason you never complain about the glass stuck in your eyes. My rough shards harming your smooth soul. but you never complain about the constant scraping noise of you loving me.