The skies fell from my eyes as you fell from the skies,
Storm in a skin, and **** did you find a way in to my peace,
i hear your heartbeat through walls, sugar -
I found you sleeping in my dreams, sugar -
and my eyes are dark with the white of your teeth
how fitting that you would be the one beneath
the stars tonight, and the grass is moon grey
as once again I shivered as you walked away
footsteps crickering on the pathway stones -
and the back of your head makes flowers in my bones
growing petals and leaves sprout through grazed knees
Oh Angel Skin, talk to me please.

You once told me you liked the way the city
breathes in beats of cold concrete
And since then I've found there's something fragile about our motley body heat
Cold breath and fur coats deep in the forest with the roaches
Burnt earth from the other kids' fires
Comfortable anxiety through wet window panes in the morning and wet hair in the evening
Both of us have fingernails nawed through to the bone
And lips scaled scarred but we still call them home
Hey, we're diamonds down to our human hilt
And we laugh when we realize our teeth are sharper 'cause of it
Pop your joints and join me in the tent we put up half heartedly
With the bags stacked up in the corner like mock artistry
Because we enjoy the grass more than we enjoy the stars -
Comets and planets only appeal to me when all of them are ours
Swirling in the eyes like a mark of what makes me yours
Or painted on your hands in kids acrylic when I'm tired and bored
Blue seeping into your freckles
Like starry night for sorry lovers.

Break down the mirror, and break me down
brains in my hair and teeth at my wrists,
she said fourteen caps of alprazolam gave her all she needed
she needs a new world, a new earth, a new ruler, that's what she needed-
I told you it wasn't meant to be this way, i was meant to be the prettiest
but girls with thickened veins and thickened wrists are destined for the bridge edge
My silver smiler body double told me to cut out the poison in my veins
and guess what I did it I did it I did it again
tell them your name, dysmorphia, tell them all what you think of me -
start the car and run me over, honey.

I stand, cold.
ice white, lit bright by
delicate light
High above casting
block shadows basking
art in light.
I step front faced with
Monet ahead, to right, gaugin
I stare, Rembrant, clad in
thick frames reflecting
scant expression on the face
of art on art, tête-à-tête
I am wisps of turner set
in stone and city galleries
staring back into the old disease
of oil eyes meeting mine
receding grid tiles on floor, axis legs
axis, human waxes indifferable
from porcelain busts in clear boxes -
bowels of heart and lungs
quivering on canvas, draped
hastily on white walls
Cold light, turned down, reflecting
frame, but not the painting.

Everything’s happening again tonight,
and the stars are falling in.
A few years ago, I thought the distinct mix of loneliness and heartbreak was a one-time thing -
little did I know it’s a popular cocktail of life,
sprinkled in like cold gin.
I like the feel of old clothes, old lives
old memories and words feel comfortable on the skin
i am so young
and yet the past is like a warm, rose-tinted sea
and with a summer this hot,
I can't help but desire a swim.

AND I FELT THE LAST TINGLE OF YOU LEAVE MY BONES AND OH MY GOD
IT FELT SO BITTERSWEET TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU YET SURVIVE WITHOUT THE LOVE OF YOU

I came home - alone - because I finally realized your soul is stone.
Thing is, it's kinda hard to get rid of that rigid smell of cologne -
It's easier to get you off my phone.
I think I had the chance to leave, and I didn't
I stayed and now I wish I hadn't
Because now I'm at a party, waiting for you to talk to me, and you haven't -
Nights are cold, and boring, and I tried to call you, but I couldn't -
I keep applying and reapplying lipstick like you care but you do not.
You don't.
I implore you, to bore me more - Id've come round that night I knew it was so important...but I didn't
And now every boy and girl looks through me.
I saw someone Wednesday.... and I thought it was you ...but it wasn't.
I mightn't of met you in the first place if the universe would give me a chance but it won't
And now I'm stuck in this poetic trance
Your face no longer traces inspiration and I've lost the information that lead me to believe in you.
I used to believe in us, but now I don't.
And now I can't write poetry, mostly .
If you look at me closely, my muse is almost ghostly
That's what you've done to me.
I'm sickly, grossly.
Evidently ghostly, if I stay a few more months maybe you can have my bones as a trophy.
I'm not in love.
I'm just... hesitating  
And while your descent into frustrating is captivating
This month has been devastating.

This evening, the sun has set in raspberry blush and apricot.
Beckoning down with it those trees that shift through emerald tones the shadowed grass has forgot.
She lies draped, feasting, curved - carved not in marble but with
the ochre the trees leak when the sun is high
Deep and rich. Hands dig into figs and pull the insides out, ******* the ambrosia dry
Leaving fingertips dripping in rose-hip gold oil
myrrh that lights up that dusky soil
So when you touch the ground here, the mud is soft like the moonlight over her
And the juniper berries oft get stuck between your teeth
and make the air taste sweet.
Reflections in water mark no shimmering Daphne. She is flesh and blood
That desires not only to eat, drink and dance
But to feel full in her heart, to cry when needed
Flawed as a child is. She pulls her hair back from her face too regularly
and spits out cherry stones like a boy unimpeded.
And above her head soft stars form in Ariadne's guise
A vision of rich apples and pears, dark by midnight skies.

The *** of a rose is fluid, and pertains to no one.
It curls, and pulls lucid around thorns and dark mahogany bark,
You may be blessed, and see her red face turned to face the sun -
or she may crawl in the undergrowth, shrugging off the *** you gave her and show her floral palms to the dark.
We all desire her velvet powder petals.
We all wish to do as we did as children, and take a hip
between our fingertips -
And crush the sweet, sticky sap from its vessel.
But leave her be, and let her petals rot where they fall
or next year she will not show her face at all.

The devout of Saint Sophia, the ones who prayed
Venerated, ******-martyr, holy hunger
The priestesses, vestal tombs. Virgins of Etrusca
What do they know of me?
Waifish, heart-sad, victim of ill womanhood
Persecutor, rejector of the womb,
Denier of her blood.

you must not yank and pull by the stem
you must instead grapple with the growth, finger-deep
and rid the soil of the root.
Headaches numbed with ice
betray a deeper bleeding on the brain
tear the pain out with your fingers
to keep bile from your veins.
Don't prevent mania.
you must instead bite the wound,
open your palms
and let blood to that fragile and fictive arcadia.

in living we leave behind nothing
but empty paths
there is no sweeter longing than recounting what you have lost.
I don't feel regret.
I feel only now the heaviness of time
like the tide slipping at the shore,
fleeing only to return.

Fragility can hardly explain you.
Breaking apart in my eyesight
Locking eyes then peeling away like rot fruit
You speak so fast.
I can barely tell whether you speak at all or flurry your words out like poker cards
Dealing me fours and sixes
I can't make aces out of the air you breathe
Yet I knit poetry out of your lingering fingertips.

Moore-ish. Heaving in this white flesh that breaks on sight and gathers itself at horizons. I have bits of it here - a motley collection of broken things and cold-cuts: that grip, those fingers, a stomach, strands of hair, not enough, and deprivation is becoming aggravating. Like an infection that creeps increasingly deep under your skin until it is wriggling around your insides and chanting 'More! More! More!' and 'Feed us more of that flesh!' And I have nothing to give them, these hungry worms! Well-fed, we dripped from branch to branch and slithered around tombs of drunk gods, laughing, giggling, we pooled cool sand in our hands and crevices and swallowed soil like we were performing, Dionysian play-acting among the feathers and the leaves. What indulgence. The sun that cracked open your window and cast itself in a thick tread across your badly-plastered ceiling seemed weak and dull. The sea that lapped and tugged at the sand around our feet seemed tired. We ****** the energy from the earth! We took it and hid it. I know that now to be our undoing.

We jump from isle to sacred isle, finding more, and losing more. Islands of time, multiplying at the horizon.

Swallow your anxiety. Gulp it down and let it pool in your gullet, clouding your mind, sticking to your guts and swarming your insides. Allow it to spill out between your clenched teeth onto the flowers below you, white worry pooling at your feet and seeping into the concrete. Let it drain and drown you, crack your back and bleed you out, because its planted on your b-side - underneath your fingernails, behind your eyes, a second skin, like sticky soap in your hair.

I loved him and he loved poetry
he loved me and I loved the rosary
around his razor-nicked throat, I lit a candle for him
below the window, and I let him in
just as god told me not to, I let him in
through frosted windows and blood pacts
he found sick ways to keep my heart intact
guns and langer's lines, his lips and poisoned wines
he slid his hand into my pocket and took the church key
wrote about a girl with blue eyes and told me it was me -
and that night I had dream that he let me die
he let me die, just as god had told him not to, he let me die.

Boys singing about madness and metaphors for angels
Love for toys and my own obstinate heart proving worth
I'd guess I was the only ugly girl in the world
who thought of herself as what she truly was
But who in the world could love a girl with killed kismet?
In real time, two-step dancers with platinum faces scarcely remember my name
(Don't you remember that time when you spent thousands on a skin that matches his?
But succumbed to your vice) - oh ugly girl, take my advice
a personality will suffice.

Down, into the water, girls face, first
In the grey depths
Astride. Legs
twisted in still
shoulder hunched over, still -
Words. Perfectly poised
to but a few chairs, at tables
Empty some, clung to the edges by a few
small girls - a few.
Who else to watch? Nothing else to do
Bored though. Writing notes still
Why not?
Women tell fables, tales and fables
Anecdotes of politics. As little as they're able
simplified for softer ears.

Shes beautiful. Quite. Well, she's not bad
sitting there, grey hair, clad
coat and perfume; sweet smelling politics.
Soft around the edges.
Don't stand up.
Quietly exit
Learn nothing.
Feel cold. Inside. Lost hope
Utopia slipping through manicured fingertips like soap.

First light brings with it
an empty town to play in.
You, wild-eyed and messy haired
Mixed up words and inside jokes
Walk three steps ahead of me, and explain
How you've pulled the pockets from your jeans because you hate the thought of carrying anything with you.
Splintered grass between your fingertips
Makes me feel young again.
I run between trees with you
and we pull down branches to see
How far they bounce back.
It is hours before I realize I've dropped the act.

I don't desire to touch you
But when you laugh I feel the warmth
healing the black and blue bruises inside me.
Touch the afternoon sunlight
ravel it round your fingertips
and drag it down to your cheek.
You are entirely made of stars.