...
Don't you get it.
Don't you see...
This is the part where nothing is going to be okay.

This is part where flowers die before their expiration date,
this is the part where every verbal and physical beating dealt to me manifests itself into a fishing hook;

into a fishing hook that wants all the fish in the river.
and my eyes
dead grey ponds~
map the rivers on my cheeks
because the river is nothing without her children
and these young eyes

**** the river,
in a couple heartbeats...
that's it all takes, love

This is part where the doctors look you in the eyes and
make a joke about how
you must hate fishing,
to look that ****** up afterwards;
because they think it's you,
they think you're hurting yourself.

they don't know the symptoms for domestic violence,
and for my case
there is no cure

they laugh...
at me.

they don't know
who drugged all the blue from this river.

Your father does though.
so it's okay.

And the saddest part is knowing
there's nothing more they can do for you.

Because today I learned how to be wreckage
all over again
and I wept so many angry rivers
and my father went fishing again
and again...

and oh he wanted fish for dinner
and threw the fish against the walls
beat eyelids
with fists
beat me
with rusty fishing hooks
until the rivers mixed with my blood
it's nothing personal
it's the way
he says
he loved me

he---

caught so many trophies and he says

"I want to **** yourself so I can go fishing"
"I think anyone who calls you beautiful just lies to you
to make you feel better about yourself"
"you're not my daughter you're a filthy ******* animal,
you don't even deserve
a name,
kira,
my disappointing *******---"

"that boy that loves you?
doesn't know how to make you feel anything other than stupid."

"that boy that loves you?
will never know how to make you feel special."

He wanted the fish that held my name,
so he could hang it on a wall
and remind himself

that you can beat a girl into a ghost if you tried hard enough.

And so I wept,
like I was the definition of bitterness and butterflies
and I ******* wept as if
god asked me to make his floods this time around,
but there's no ark,
no need for that.

I took my father fishing in the vastest ocean
and he kept throwing in fishing hooks
and dragging out fish made of quicksilver,
fish out of water
that were bones of the happiness
fish dying
that was my heart with a fever
fish flailing
I think that's my lungs caving in, that's me---
fish that cannot find a breath...

and every breath we take we give back

it took my father's abuse to see that--
how ****** is that?
he ripped that wisdom tooth from the back
of my poetic mouth
so I could see it.

I don't try to keep my head above the water anymore.


I have wanted nothing more than to stop
for everything to ******* stop
please,
I want to press pause on these turbid waters
please
don't talk so loud
please
hold these currents
I can't hear you
I can't hear them
god help me I--
I can't--

I cry
and let my father harvest
all of the life from waters that are not his to begin with
because I am worthless...

I know,
I am worthless.

this is not poetry;
this is
the heartbreaking into words this is
the dissolve of a human being
of a girl
of a body
of blood and water
this is tragedy and the gravity of cold intentions

this is my self decay

this is the most painful way
to die,
scratch that, to survive
with my father.

my father knows that this is the
most painful way to ask for a river in the first place.

Because every time my father beats me
with his fishing pole;
makes a puppet out of the decay;

death is leading me
like a horse to water and he's
waiting,
watching with smiles
that promise a warm hug.

Death knows that all I want
is a hug and some kind words.

He is the only one,
willing to give it to me,
how ****** up is that?

tonight...
all at once
the river runs out,
and I write suicide notes to my friends
and to that boy,
that boy...tell him I'm sorry


"My father's demons came for me
they came for all of us."

Your eyes shift like
clockwork  forcing
December        into
it's    rightful rank.
Frostbite  bursting
from     jaws       of
Sagittarius,    iron
staining         your
crow    -feathered
muzzle.                I
plucked       Sirius
off the face of  the
sinking sky while
weaving           his
starlit   fangs into
steal wolf    teeth
for replacements.
You    swallowed
an oath of loyalty
for        alunakira
so     I   will build
and    reach   into
that        heart of
vintage      glass,
drag the  dog of
war   from    the
sunset  stomach
you           own~
and do as Lupus
told        me  too.
I  will construct
symphonies  of
tiger            -lily
dusks & dawns
to     raise    the
dead  poetry in
  basilisk    heart.
Lycan,          I'll
   withdraw    the
   ashes              of
  Avalaone    just
   to   get          the
  Gears working
  again   in   your
a   u   b  u   r   n
e       y     e       s

Madness is where the true peace is.
Some people just aren't strong enough for sanity.

.
A story is brothers with a poem.
That's all this is, family.
~~~
Your soul couldn't get any bigger,
twilight crept over your toes, and
before you knew it---
it was gliding along your throat.

Cliffs aren't made of bones,
they rock and gleam like armor gnashing
twin dragon scales.  The earth growls and lashes, dominance is its domain.

Bellow my legs I view the darkness pleading~
I've never witnessed a starving sea,
it begged to swallow every inch of
my crippled heart of wine.

I'm hanging by the wires we call gallows,
tendrils thinning like my silver lining.
Soon I'll feel the tides swallowing at my spine.
When I fall,
I'll do so
bliss-
ful-
y

This cliff has lockjaw,
the stones morphing into fangs of a Greek legend.
You're staring at me,
Saturn now makes its home in your auburn depths.
How I'll miss the misty mountains,
because you named them
after me.

A whisper louder than thunder,
lonesome ashes staining venom on my tongue.  
Coughing up my regrets as if
I had lung cancer.

I'm a hanging nightmare.
That's ready to drown.

No wonder they call you daughter of old man winter, you're practically frozen in place.
I've seen the universe, but I think I'll swing by hell for a change.

"Ahkira....Ahkira look at me."
Why must your voice be so drippy?  I thought you were a frost flower.
Since when did you melt when it sleeted?

"Yes?"

"Don't let go....Don't let go please...I'm coming."

"It's no use.  I'm going to die,
Cinder."
Oh but darling,
you should've stayed glued to glass.

"Don't say that!  I-"
With a lurch the mottled sky pinned you down,
senselessly, you crashed to the floor, 6 feet away from my hourglass body.

"Give me your hand!"
You reached, but I couldn't hold the wire.
Slip-
ping
ne-
ver
felt
so
****
wick-
ed,

But I was wrong.
Your soul multiplied.
It expanded.

But before I fell into the hug of oblivion, I tugged at your heartstrings my very last time.
I brushed the surface of your being and my words stung perfectly in your ear.
"Close your eyes."
.

...
new moon
"just let me sleep,"
moon eaten
my absence upsets all.
Look at me, really look at me,
stare up at the belly of a loved sky,
watch fingers dipping into bowls of blood holding hope,
feeling around for a sliver,
of sweet milk,
of relief,
of anything;

new moon whispers
on the dead bodies left behind,
god sighs---
he knows;

"I am not the same"

waxing crescent
map out my wreckage,
my skeleton of poetry;
in the spines of books loved by mankind,
bury me there in a pages of flowers---
in the altitude of words;
read me with a hunger you have never known before,
over and over;
whenever it seems fit~
like the light of the moon is a cigarette.

smoking,
he's always smoking now.
god takes another drag;
he describes to me:

"You could be my bible,
you book of blood"

I can't stand smoke...

"I have no business in being your  holy snakeskin."

first quarter
I've been searching for
solid ground, solid shadows,
a solid compromise;

I wanted a little more
than ordinary love from him so I

asked him where the static began,
for me it's below my bottom left rib
and found that it was also where the spiders started too.

Time, that quiet thing
obeys god, only
because it waits for no one

it loves
unzipping the law of alchemy,
cause ink flowered in my blood again;
I should thank time
it was this saving kind of grace;
always has been

god stroked my hair this time
and said quietly:

"You see,
the saddest thing is realizing
that there's nothing more they can do for you"

waxing gibbous
Oh, where's my love?
Is it in the fever I call happiness,
is it in the sword my mama raised me to be

Is it in the way
the moon tiptoes closer
when he says my name
in that beautiful way he does

or breaks my name
over his teeth like it's just
glass apples

God doesn't even look at me
he doesn't have to;

"Do you believe in angels?"

the wreckage answers him
"not lately"

full moon
And it begins again
I watch as he just looks away
and says it's fine
it hurts

god narrows his eyes but shrugs

"Pain had other plans for you."

I breathe out raggedly;

"I guess,
if there's no key
then I'll just swallow the whole door."
...

(harvested from my heart)

12:24 a.m. --old friend
Well, if it isn't the moon herself
"Hello Icarus,"
You came home
"Black holes aren't homes."
Yet you were raised here, my dear
"How could I forget?"

1:05 a.m. --past lover
And how is she now?
"Who?"
That wolf girl you adored
"Smoking on other stars."
Stars?
"Planets as well,"
Does she fancy other moons?
"She fancies all celestial things."
Surely that is not the case-
"Her songs ate silence long ago."
What?
"Her wolfsong for me is but
loose ashes and
an epitaph now."

2:42 a.m. --current lover
Was the revolution delicious?
"Like a glass of unborn names,"
That many?
"The light spared no one."
No one at all?
"All perished under his gaze."
But you fell in love with him, didn't you?
"Yes."
Why?
"Simple;
I am a chaser of the light."

3:17 a.m. --state of mind
Why are you here?
"I spent all my faith up."
And you think you'll find more here?
"No."
Then why-
"The gates summoned me."
That is suicide, my dear
"I imagine it more like--
salvation in disguise."

4:08 a.m. ---medicine
Too many ghosts are glued to your spine
"I can't shake them."
You can shed them into poems
"They'll just turn into puppets."
But you will be their puppet master
"You expect me to play god?"
I expect you to rule over this wreckage,
like you used to

5:32 a.m. --homeward bound
Have you missed me over the years?
"Only in blinks."
Why's that I wonder?
"The moon sleepwalks across the sky."
So, are you going back now?
"Depends,"
On?
"If the night has eaten my name,
and craves these ruins again."

☪*  *Celestial     dream    catchers   ☪
∈    won't tear     the stars     asunder tonight.    ∋
◖◗   But they   make no   such exceptions,    ◖◗
⚮   for poets.   **⚮

...
"Quiet are your affections this hour,
as sun~fire courts moonlight"

I've sown gardens of stars
on your chest with my lips,
watched as peach-colored sunrises on
your shoulder blades dissolve before me,
and traced the ladder to heaven
along the sky of your spine
with my tongue.

You drank silver from my skin
like it was holy water, and you told me
that my body was like a godless church,
holy for no reason other than itself.

you told me I was beautiful,
so many times

This uncharted territory, porcelain to the touch;
we are blood in water in love, serenading the
angels that are intoxicated with our naivety;
Our bodies eclipsed and your hands find
the flecked gold that leans too heavy on one side,
and you placed all of the diamonds
back into my bones without
hesitation.

Whenever you kissed me
I knew love by all of its names
in all of it's tongues of flowers and coasts
and we drink up this disease knowing that
the only cure is each other.

However,
another heart's jealousy is a carcass in the ashtray,
and I have seen this hatred before;
I know that some ghosts prefer not to be woken;

Find fossils of heartbreaks
in the fountain of doves,
because if you searched her heart you'll find
empty hallways begging to be filled with
your sunlight.

As you are spellbound with
blue ponds of smoke and dynamite eyes
you reminded me once more,
I am a museum.

The darkness will feed upon his luna,
so the sun wishes to marry his lover,
~so look at me~

The moonlight is merely sunlight in a white dress
...

-



Lead dripping from
empty sockets,
a clock hissed in serpent hours,
it's venom oozing from the crystal walls
it's 4 a.m. you insomnia lunatic.

I'm too busy admiring,
how the man in the moon slithered through
these blinds on my soul-swept window.

That night I was a canvas,
as the moonlight stripped my arm raw of shale,
and tinted my skin with
silvertongue.

And when he was finished,
tiger stripes tattooed my thinning vessel.

-

...
"Take your crimes and medication."

Pill one.
I have come to loathe eating.
Countless days pass without a morsel of food,
typically weeks without a real full meal.
I find it remarkable, really;
that my sense of taste and hunger became living corpses
that linger within my mouth like something died on my tongue.
I have a few options at this point but here's my choice~~
~~leave the silverware clean, bare and cold---
it's purest when cold.
I don't even know why I am not hungry.
I never thought I'd see the day where I'd decline the offer on raspberries.
(They always will be my favorite...)
Now, my ribcage blooms like a garden~
~rib bones that beg to flower through
the soil that is my skin.
Skeletons don't sit at the dinning table because
starving is a special kind of beautiful.
Yet this is oddly okay to me.
And when I do dare to silence it,
the mild sting of hunger that pulls you like the moon;
It's regret that's delivered in a bullet or two.
Disgust crawls up my spine and drags nails along
the lining of my stomach.
Don't eat that, it's poison.
Rejection becomes my immediate releif.
Family and friends can't help but worry
Eyes flicker to the length of my waist,
voices question my weight when I'm lifted
the subtle stare at how my bones scream against snowy skin.
I don't blame them or the rumors;
I know I am skinny, and I know am empty.
I just don't want to eat anymore...
I am so sorry for that.
(Am I supposed to be sorry for that?)

Pill two.
Don't ask me if I got any sleep.
The answer will always be "no", or "not enough."
I was diagnosed two years ago with insomnia.
You don't know what suffering is until
you can't ******* sleep.
I didn't think it was that bad,
boy, I must've been related to ignorance.
It's torture watching the world never press pause.
My record is six nights and seven days, almost a full week
Caged myself in because my thoughts
were killers for freedom.
Why can't I sleep?
Here's the catch though;
I don't like sleep either.
No comfort calls your name,
not when you can remember every dream you've had since
the year 2009.
I don't have happy dreams, for those of you that do not know.
They call this disease hyper-realistic dreaming,
it's something my doctor hesitates to openly discuss.
(They don't have the answers to my mother's panicked questions or my father's accusing glare.)
They're terrified of the unknown too.
The concept of dreaming in such detail,
of every person place or thing
isn't exactly treatable
Fun fact:
I talk to the dead sometimes.
You know, people who have passed away.
They tell me it's the regrets that ******* you behind your back.
Hyper-realistic dreaming is absolute madness.
Pretty sure wonderland doesn't look any different than
the waking realm.
The word nightmare,
yeah, I don't like using it.
It visits whether I'm awake or not.
Doesn't make a ******* difference.
But the doctors only care about my insomnia.
Figures, I mean.
"It's just a sleeping sickness, strong medication should fix it."
Liar.
Rest has become a form of torture for me.
I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve this.

Pill three.
Speaking of torture,
I own 19 scars that I never asked for.
My father is responsible for 18 of these scars.
Abuse is just a 5 letter word.
Funny how death sits lightly in 5 letters.
Pain is just a 4 letter word.
Oh look, so does life.
I've been waiting for salvation but I know I'm not worthy.
My father is the root of my depression.
I am his flawed design and greatest disappointment.
"YOU *******----"
hands crash into my lungs
nails engrave wounds like some sick reminder
you don't need to remind me
I already know what I've done wrong
please dad, don't hit me
Yet instantly I hit the floor harder than any stone does.
I cry quietly, forcing the sobs to talk the language of silence.
If he knows I'm suffering it'll only make it worse.
Praise is something that does not pass his lips.
"You're ******* worthless, you ugly girl."
Insults act like vultures that never quite leave our house.
"You stupid blonde *****, DO IT RIGHT."
My grades weren't high enough to please his highness.
(I had a 3.975 GPA this semester.)
"I can't wait to watch you fail."
A disgusting disgrace of a daughter that's never going to fill the shoes of "enough."
There are so many times where I have been punished for
my "crimes",
kicked, beaten, scratched, sliced, man-handled, hit, and bruised..
I don't think it's fair to name the rest.
It's all an act of order to obtain my obedience.
The secrets within these walls sneer at me~~
~~how unfortunate that our walls are white.
You see blood is a hard stain to remove and red likes
to leave the ghost of orange upon the white paint.
I don't think you understand,
that this has been happening ever since I was his little 7 year old.
Or, you know, maybe longer.
Oblivion flew south and reality crawled in long ago.
You can't just chase reality out,
she's a force of nature that takes the life out of all of us.
I have been a victim to my father for as long as I can remember.
An example of the cycle of abuse continues tonight;
Tonight my father told me,
"I wish you were dead."
That can be arranged, dad.
You don't know pathetic until you've seen me lying there
after the aftermath that was my most recent "mistake",
clutching the ground like maybe if I pretended enough
it would hold me.
They tell me it's just the alcohol talking.
That all of this was his own father's doing.
My dad had it "so much worse."
I'm sorry your father hurt you, dad
I'm sorry you feel like you have to hurt me.

Pill four.
My wounds make their homes beneath my heart,
six inches to left, furrowing downwards.
This is the nerve that throbs in death's long fingers.
False strength will save those who you love.
Good thing I "believed" I was strong.
It's a ******* joke.
I'm not strong.
I am a white angel dressed in lies.
Yet there I was;
Standing with perfect posture as the universe
and my friends stacked their troubles
up my trembling shoulders and back.
Nicknames spilled off their tongues,
I was proud of these titles that I don't actually deserve.
I am the psychiatrist.
The Healer.
The Caretaker.
The Mother
The Saint
The Kind Maiden
The Helper
The Keeper of the Dragons
The Poet of the Wolves
The Moon Warrior
The moonlight weeping through the willow branches;
The Person Who Fixes Everything
The Wise Guardian Angel.
How couldn't they notice I was nothing divine.
Plucking them from the coffins of depression and despair
that they laid themselves to rest in.
It is no easy task.
And sometimes this means their words are
the gashes to glide down my arms and sides,
blood making the puddles at my feet.
Physical pain is bearable when it's for them.
Again we revisit the word
"Abuse."
As they are humans and they practice this sin
upon me.
I accept the harm with no self-defense.
Because I was cursed to love them.
Even the ones,
that reek desolation upon my soul.
They have all gone for the **** before.
You can take it out on me,
I will balance your burdens.
"Let me help you..."
I'm sorry you're hurting, I'm here for you
I'm sorry I became like this?
(I definitely am not supposed to apologize for that.)

Pill Five.
I have a past lover, she is my Wolf Girl.
I have learned to love her like ambrosia in a bottle.
It doesn't matter that I am no longer her lover...
She is and always will be my best friend.
We once talked about our friendship like a legend.
One man that went off to war,
and how he left his loyal dog behind.
The loyal dog waited for his master until the man returned from service and suffering;
the dog's love never swayed.
For many years they remained apart and alone
paths refusing to entertwine,
but once reunited they picked their relationship up and continued like nothing had ever separated them to begin with.
We never decided who the dog or the man was.
But we both have always known.
I hold her responsible for saving me, and uncovering
the remains of a silver child.
She ripped my heart open to expose the stitches and raw emotion;
below my feet sung the wolves,
along my collarbone perched the stars.
The moon basked in my skin when she told me,
You are beautiful.
I knew she was lying but I still forced those words down my throat,
swallowing the growing flame of black lies.
To this day I will never forget,
even if she has forgotten.
I don't see a reason to hurt, I knew I was unworthy to begin with.
Sifting through a jar of ashes I found our memories,
the day we first met, first became best friends...
She was the wolf and wasn't afraid to bite the hand that fed her.
That was how she taught me to survive,
Trust me when I say I learned more than just survival.
Casting a glance at the past 5 years I recall
what the value of strength was.
She lent me her own,
~so I bargained my way to the heavens~
a prayer for the day I would become a goddess of divinity-------
---- I found out Naïve was my middle name.
The demons found me and I had no fangs to sharpen,
so they tied me to a willow tree.
There I was possessed, and hung by my wrists,
humiliation and weakling branded into my ankles.
"This is how we put dreamers in their place!"
Is what the shadows screamed in octaves of smoke.
And that was how my wolf girl found me,
hanging and half-alive in my favorite crying tree.
She....
She laughed with sunlight flashing in crystal teeth.
Before plunging vicious knives into my stomach.
Until the  words gouged at places hidden beneath tender poetic flesh...
My screams never reached another living soul.
Dragging open my belly to reveal what innocence I had left,
I watched as poison caught fire to her words;
I was annoying
I was clingy
I was loud, unaware, and
oblivious.
I loved the same she had loved
stolen the moon from her nightless sky without realization
and caused heartbreak and spread disease in her wake
she knew what the demons did~~~
"And yet you loved every second of it, didn't you Lycan?"
~~~~
I know, I know
all of that was so long ago, yet I cannot help myself.
I don't hang from trees anymore,
and I don't talk to wolves in sheep skins any longer.
That doesn't stop me though;
The questions slither into my palms and onto the page
where navy ink scratches letters
into rotten white paper;
Like snakes in the tomb of my heart.
"Why did you save me?"
"Why didn't you save me when I needed you most?"
"Oh wait, right, you never had to..."
"What love could you possibly harbor
for me?"
"Did you ever love me?"
"No, probably not."
"Will it ever be okay again?"
"Why didn't you let me in when you needed me?"
"Was it worth it?  Jack I mean...was he worth it?"
"Was it worth those seven months?"
"You're more than lust."
"Did your sins finally catch you, Lycan?"
Wolves find glory in preying upon the weaker species.
You knew I was weak from day one.
"Why didn't you **** me when you had the chance?"
I'm sorry I defiled you.
Apologies that you went to the trouble of teaching me the hard way.
And finally,
I'm sorry that I dared to love you, Allie.

Pill six.
Let me put it in simple terms;
I hate myself.
I have come back from the brink of death for the thousandth time,
and I'm so sick of it.
My mind is a battlefield of depression and
I am no match for the darkness that borderline feasts on my soul.
They never left after they hung me pretty in that tree.
Thoughts that take my life piece by piece like casualties in war.
No, you don't understand.
I am beyond saving.
I have been,
for a very long time.
No matter how long I look into a mirror
I cannot find a trace of beautiful.
The glass doesn't bother lying to me, not anymore...
That's how I know all of you are lying to me.
I have let the insanity slide a dagger into my spine
ripping a **** upwards to my neck.
This is where bone touches the air and I don't recover.
R e l l a p s e
I hate everything about myself,
what I have become,
wallowing in the pity because I am far too tired;
to swim, to try, to leave.
I descend into the black sea of ink that
I bathe myself in every hour to keep from feeling agony.
As a poet, it's the only title I hold onto with an ounce of pride.
Among the fields of grief I lay in my oaken coffin
pathetic words snaking into my mind
betrayal chewing at my insides,
memories play hide and seek between lost and broken treasures.
There is nothing left.
Not anymore.
And never again.
What more can I give when the nightfall erases me?
How much longer must I endure
my punishment for being human?
I was never mighty but
my how I've fallen.

"Are you okay?"
Don't think, just lie.
"How are you feeling?"
Lie faster.
"Oh my god, what happened?"
Lie for their sake.
"How are you?"
Whatever you do
"What's wrong?"
Just lie
"You seem kinda off today..."
If you tell them it's all over.
"Kira, are you alright?"
Lie until the truth becomes one.
"Seriously, you're...you're sure you're alright?"
You can't let that monster out, she'll destroy whatever you love left.
"Are you lying?"
"I'm so...so sorry everyone.
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm......s--"

I forgot to mention I have pills to take now.
For my insomnia, way back up in pill two up there...
Special pills that play roulette with the grim reaper.


Instructios:
"Kira, take only one pill at a time.  Please make sure to count if you swallow several at once.  These pills are very dangerous, potentially deadly if not consumed correctly."
"Alright."
"Take one pill, and if you can't fall asleep in an hour wait til tomorrow night to take two.  If that doesn't work, then the next night take three, and then four.  Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Kira, please be cautious if you take five. I cannot stress enough how much I want you to be careful, it could damage your internal organs. It's like asking for a light coma, for 20 hours you'll be asleep."
"Okay."
"And Kira...whatever you do... NEVER take six pills.   You won't wake up after that.    Promise me you'll never take six...
"I promise Dr. Cline."
Well, I lied.  Shocker, right?
I am so terribly sorry that I cannot keep my promise...

One
Two
Three
Four
Five...
Only....Six
that's all it takes.





I'm sorry is the only signature I leave on my suicide note.
...

—-
"oh zethus,
what have you broken wide open?"
—

i.
teeth
meet neck;
slow drag of fire against
flesh- little hiccups of
death between lips:
"a martyr if i ever saw one."

ii.
dark is the color of his name;
filthy is his flame-
fingers curling in blonde hair
the pull, the release,
the war open's it's young mouth
and moans.
"succumb to this."

iii.
the dragon; [elder grey jewel]
perches on the windowsill
and bows before a queen;
but is a king in sheets and shadows-
little omen for you darling:
"may death come as our healer,
not our prophet."

iv.
the flowers felt rough
stealing from your mouth-
into mine.
-screams baptizing themselves in honey-
--names swimming in the old religion--
to dine upon such celestial
matters; would
"be my favorite way to bleed."

v.
civilizations
count their glories on your behalf;
as the love you make to me
encourages chaos from it's cradle-
"silver crescent mother;
grey flame father;"
but what a terrible way to live my dear:
"always at odds with
the sun."

—end scene: carpe noctem.—

And the darkness
became my
second fluent language
that night.
<>
I swear to god
that the truth
is not a sin
I paid for.
<><>
It was almost as if
lunar planets
kissed my body with
craters and grooves.
<><><>
I traced the lining along
my ballistic skin and;
||||||||||||||||||||
boy am I not happy with how
my designer shaped my meager
body.
<><><><>
I even remember how blissful
it truly was to watch
the phenomenon cascading while,
sticks and stones are
becoming the words
to obliterate my bones.
<><><><><>
I didn’t shed a single
tear, (filthy ******’ liar)
|||||||||||||||||||||||
as reality squeezed the
breath right from my January lungs
this time.
<><><><><><>
And dear lord
let me tell you,
watching the problems
have a butterfly effect on
each other is a full serving of
despair with a side--
|||||||||||||||||||||||||
of empty threats and denial.
<><><><><><><>
If I was to cross my theoretical heart
and hope to die,
I’d probably dissaemble my body
but I sure as hell,
won’t break those promises.
<><><><><><><><>
How empty can a girl
become?
It’s not even 8 p.m.
and I already have nothing left
to bleed for.
<><><><><><><><><>
And so what if
I told you
the darkness would only speak,
in tongues of
moonlight?
<><><><><><><><><><>
Because even the
man in the moon
gets lonely(ness) sometimes.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||­|||||||||
How lovely
that we are not alone
but yet so
lonely?
<>

And this is it
this is how you lose me.

Wake up my ghosts,
they will hand you what
you need
to end this

and then **** me
when you're angry enough

and do it slowly.

Leave bullets in my body
so i can taste the warm metal
the soft decay
long after
the resurrection

Let me dismantle myself
when you aren't looking,
you don't know
what suffering is

So when you look for me
the next morning and wonder,
why i didn't help you rise from ash,
why i was always so depressed,
why i left,

it was because
i thought i could trust you
to love
everything i was

i remember every single time
i forgave you when
everything screamed in me
to hate

i realize now
i am afraid of you
the same way
i was before

and you lack the ability to understand that,
or realize what damage
you dealt

This is how you lose
this war

because

i knew,
ever since i let myself
allow you in

that you
would be
the death of
me.

.
On a night where your teeth left indents on my soul,
I let the peak of my love ***** out the moon.
In the dark I'm pretty sure there are black needles,
poised at my throat.

You're not a dog of war,
It never suited you anyways.
But this means I cannot call you
My Wolf Girl.
Oh no you see,
I am an outcast in the brewing of a ******.

I'm sorry.
I'm coming home, Addison.
Being lost isn't so hard after all when I can't make out the letters on your tomb.

It's alright.
I don't belong here.
But patience is all I have left now.
.

...
Ͽ
I'm witnessing the night erupt in celestial warfare;
Galaxies upon the fleeting edge of collapse.
Constellations rise as warriors
Planets fall as if they were empires
Shooting stars committing suicide
Eclipses; full-fledged victims of ******
Toxic comets threaten disaster
Supernovas; spells of death
Starlight diminished by the savages;
Nebula messages slaughter hope.
This is a massacre of our milky way~
Our universe;
a brilliant display of
a civil war.
Ͼ
Goodnight.
...

.
Ancient games
tell tales of dust.  |||   A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.


~~~~~


It's the wits that ****, not Queens of ivory or ink. *
Charged with coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into   lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if   death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
rule the moon.
~~~~~~
Shoot on command,
C
h    
      e
c  
      k
m
a
t      
e
~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a *downfell,
Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
Just
by
throwing
s                    
t          
o
         n
                 e
                              s
                               ­        .
.

●Sunken to my basalisk heart●
○the drums of nebula bursting○
•Saturn sliding down my shoulder•
°-Lupus circling the lunar fire-°
◇A flask of ivory,◇
¤in the diamond flesh.¤
•This mirror glinting•,
○Steel jaws meet my neck.○
~Casting amethyst over
my hair.~
| Reflections scratching at the mist. |
______
"You look lovely covered in
words."
A luminous face, pale and lean.
Spirited as foxes, a shadowman in
gunpowder chain.
Ghost.
"I think you mean sleeves of
poetry."
.

Eloquent april showers kiss her forehead,
Oath-enriched may flowers fleck his cheeks.


& now there’s rosemary bursting from his venus veins---
        ashes aligning in those sickly tear-ducts.

( w h y  i s  h e  w e e p i n g ?)


What a coincidence;
her love was her forte
    and yet his eyes
were foreign to the music.


My dragon princess is in love
    with a sickly raven boy;


and he’s caught a icy cancer. . .

    “Raven boy loves his rosemary”
Look, love’s fingers bittersweetly

    entwined with death


...are now limp.


The rain is her salvation        and his

                            roots.


Maybe it wasn’t a drought


Maybe it was

            a flood.


After all,    
            there’s no such thing as too much beauty, on venus,
                                        and there's no such thing as too much rain,

in April.

(I'm sorry dragon princess, but not every flower was destined to bloom.)
.

.
You're wielding a double edged sword,
it may **** your opponents,
but it's cutting your soul,
as well.

Can you conquer,
the darkness of your own
shadow?
.

°Lies dribble down my orange-moonlit chin,°
《》《》《》
The truth isn't lingering on
my dawn-ridden lips~
So don't lean in.

◇I'm ready to accept
my nights are numbered
to call you my
soul-mate.◇

I can see the battle
brewing like wildfire
in those lycanthrope, eyes.

A willow cannot compete
with the frost
and an autumn kiss.

¥ Her words felt like
lightning stabbed
a hole through my neck,---¥
When I grasped his intentions.


I have been so
unbelievably *******
Selfish.

To quote an old
memory that I have no remedy for~~
《》《》《》
How do I feel about losing you?

"I don't know."
.

.
Isn't it amusing?
Your exhaustion is
craving your energy,
dragging away your breath.
Isn't it lovely?
Sleep is actually
the son of life,
but also,
a cousin of death.
.

"Do you understand the sorrow of a star that cannot return to the heavens?"

"Of course."

"What?"*

"It's like you said,
there's no remedy for memory."

...
One day you'll find that in reality people don't care, they're just curious.

┯┷
Do not follow this black willow dog
"I'm not following you."
The lucid smoke hums you lie
"I don't smoke."
Of course you don't
"Then what do you mean?"
You merely burn

┯┷
"So...why are you always by yourself?"
It was a quiet war
"Quiet war?"
I lost so many
"So many what?"
Beloved souls to the book
"What book?"
Death's wish-list

┯┷
"Are you the only one left?"
Supposedly
"How do you know?"
This rain spares nothing
"So you don't know."
Time knows
"It's 3:04 a.m."
So it is

┯┷
"Are you going home?"
The city is laughing, little lamb
"Why is it laughing?"
Cold feet of the crossroads
"Why are we talking about crossroads?"
Home was eaten there
"Excuse me?"
That is why we stray

┯┷
"You look sad."
I am indeed
"Why don't you rest for a while?"
Is the riverbed dry?
"What are you talking about?"
Drought season isn't here yet

┯┷
"Are you hungry?
I drank chipped starlight
"I asked if you were hungry."
The abyss always is
"I'm lost..."
Nothing needed to be found

┯┷
"Who are you?"
A stray willow dog
"What's a willow dog?"
Yellow bones rattle the concrete
"Why are they yellow?"
I'm grieving
"Because?"
The sky died in his heart

┯┷
"What if I told you I loved you?'
Coins in the fountain
"That has nothing to do with..."
Forget them
"Forget who?"
Sweet water wishes
"But wishes are not forgotten."
The smoke is humming again
"How peculiar.."
You take these for granted

┯┷
You have disobeyed
"Oh?  How so?"
You followed me to the cobblestones
"Oh, I'm sorry."
Blue mirrors
"What about them?"
Reflect morbid futures
"But you don't have one, don't you?"
Willows weep for  many  reasons

┯┷
"Hey...you're going the wrong way."
Am I, now?
"Heaven's this way."
...

i.
"carpe noctum"
the moon breathes as she unzips
me from her womb and the stars
bow
as i flower into
greatness.

ii.
january flirts with death
and teaches the old dog some
new tricks.
"oh sweet thing,
there is an oasis
in every fever"

iii.
god of sleep,
tell me do your people roam
your ribs
at night;
do you have room for love
in your
domain;
or are you as heartless as the constellations
that decorate your ceiling?

iv.
my mother asked me once:
"are you humble
to the very walls and light switches
of your soul?"

v.
i make a nasty habit out of
fastening my grief
to the sky's front door---
when i write about the ones
death kept in his ******* pocket.

vi.
there is darkness peeling
off to my left,
when i unfold my limbs into the blackness as
lullabies leak onto the grass
and later become the dew
at first light.

vii.
why is it that when
you smile
it takes the shape-
of a morgue
you ***** sunrise, / you filthy legend
take all your diseases home and raise them
as your own children
away from here
away from here.

viii.
I am learning
that the only difference
between a garden and a graveyard
is what you decide
*to put
in
the
ground.