Living at hard angles,
the hemophilac in the razor blade factory
a diabetic making chocolate,
the alcoholic cooking with vanilla

A car running out of oil
in the great Mojave Desert
broke down,
while heading to Paradise, Nevada

Life at hard angles,
hard to get started
hard to get around

Rent gas water, electric insurance garbage,
car needs tires, internet phone
food
whose ever screaming the loudest
bank accounts have been known to go to zero

Cry all night

We're going to hold on to each other tight
it's all temporary
Even when you're sleeping hard
living at hard angles.

carrying a bridge, i
put myself between
you
r uncountable

thighs. i have one, sometimes
hating itself it wants to be
split in two, sometimes
it wants to have a hole, a room
to peer through

she is my only friend, but
she costs more than my worth

(if this was about the scale,
i broke it already)
sometimes i feel old, not cold
when the temperature drops
i stick my tongue out
and warm myself
from
with
in

(if this was about my grades,
it should've ended
before it even started)

this, a figure
i failed
a long time ago:
a child, a daughter
a face, a friend
a student, a spoiled rich brat
each one has become a stranger
fast
and sharp, right where i want
the hole gone.

i sit in the parking lot
longer than at class
i eat in my car more
than anywhere

the answer sheet is not mine, mister
it's hers
always

You bought an one way ticket
        when you were young
You thought it'd be a good trip
You thought you'd never be homesick

Everything out there is fresh
Everything out there is sparkling
Even the moon looks bigger

All is fine
Until one day

You find the food back home was made for your stomach
the water back home tasted sweeter
the air back home suited your lung perfectly
And you starts to realize
       the moon back home were actually brighter

So you buy an one way ticket again
       to come home

I want you to be happy
But not
Without me

i.

the stars wait
for you, wrap
the sky into their
silver sea.

ii.

red roses of
summer, a ghost
parade of blowsy
whites.

iii.

you, swept
along like
a stream,
pretty blue
sky echoes
of the sea.

iv.

kiss for my love,
i follow the path
to my love,
he waits and the
stars blow like
a fierce wind.

v.

the stars, red roses,
you, kisses, blue
air split like a seed,

i follow the path to my love,
i follow the path

crazy star blossoming
as i long for him....

I've warapped,
With much consternation,
My years in you,
Without hesitation.
I adorned myself
With framed sheep skins,
Kept your eyes glittering,
To be more appealing.
You pressed your nose
Against the shop window,
Longing for the man
In the red suit.
I forgot about the ribbons,
You misplaced the bows.
I lied to some Santa,
Many years ago.

An ode to all those lower-middle-class kids raging against their own insignificance,
romanticizing their circumstances and chasing cheap bliss.

An ode to all conversationalists,
who kiss each and every sentence with well read lips.

Here's an ode to those who,
while watching a meteor shower,
remember to make a wish.

Only to realize that the roses smell like bile,
because some ******* threw up all over your garden while he was black-out drunk.
Two days later,
you connect the dots and realize that ******* is you.

is this liquid? i ask
myself because there's no one else
in this room i fall in love with indulgences
never falling out again
i'm a loyal lover of unhealthy desires
if you can call it desire
then i can call myself a lover
of anything that goes through my throat
in and out, in and out
i ask, is this liquid? the bed sheet
is white, translucent at the part
where i lay myself
dry