Seeming as though they want to crawl inside
I invite every word you sowed into my home

Restless they skitter into every corner of my room
Make themselves comfortable in my bed
Unslept in, untidy

I click my pen absentmindedly at the desk as I write
But each sentence is a copy of your kisses

You came, paved the road through icy snow
And I don’t want to reject your passion
Perhaps because, akin to my features
I am unloved

The only one there for me
The only fickle heart that
Didn’t always seem so worthless

This world revolves around an atmosphere of
Shaky hands and nervous glances
Long walks and apologies

No matter how many times I laugh
It isn’t enough to silence the poor restive dog
But the door to the backyard is locked
Don’t make me find the key

The smell of cherries,
Rich, tangy, sweet,
Like syrup dripping down through my water,
Leaving my lungs filled with nauseatingly, gorgeous pink,
Outside the window’s damp metallic screen.
It pulls my eyes out,
Leaving across the city,
Dark and screaming as it is.
Screaming to be worth something,
To be known,
And all we are is above, in the clouds.
Pink, suffocatingly high,
All around us the air sings,
And I am choking,
Colliding with the atmosphere,
The heart envelops the mind,
I am here again,
All metal.
Waking nightmare,
The smell of cherries.

There is beauty in my pain.
Yes, if you mean,
Those effervescent tears,
Streaking down your flawless cheeks.
If you mean that romanticized,
Clear blood you lie in.

Darling, you were already bewitching.
You were born from the sky,
A divine demonstration of mortal virtue.
There is no beauty in your pain,
There is merely pain amongst your beauty.

There is something adjacent to love,
Something heartless.
The love without love.
The want.
The clouds, they shake,
And I shake with them,
Because I have nowhere to go.
Blood cools and blackens and it’s a good thing.
Desire cools and darkens and it’s a,
Foreign feeling,
Even after happening again and again.
There has to be dark clouds.
There has to be a storm because it’s a good thing,
But my walls cannot endure so much thunder.
The absence of hope, like the abundance of despair.
Forcing yourself to shake because you just can,
And no one is there to chastise it.
There is something adjacent to love,
But it might as well be a thousand miles away,
For all the good the distance does.
A moonless sky,
By the time you notice it,
The stars have already brought it home.

after death
is there anything
but the soft patter
of the kitten's paws
against kitchen tiles
searching for its owner

is there anything
but the children
who run across the playground laughing
unknowing of what awaits them
what overturned tables
what fogged car mirrors

is there anything
but the memories
falling like gentle snow
across graveyards and families
who will be there someday
forgotten as well

is there anything
but silence in the unloved
early hours of the morning
as the stars blink
out one by one
finally above the weather

these sheets so incredibly warm
wicked, yes, i think the window is shattered
like everything else in my writing, my
pain
it is shattered
covered, tossed aside
i feel better alone
there is nothing of value in the present
i am the 5 am paranoia kicking in,
the work lying there on my desk
as time ticks past its due date
each line in the wood floor
watered by tears
there is
nothing of value
anywhere

i'd have given up my poetry for you
blind, drawn by your voice, you lonely bird
i cornered you without even wishing to
but i swear i held the lines in my throat
though they died
i'd have given up my song for you
but you lied and boasted and
cried to me
we were children then, i was a fool
rope at the ready each moment
for i'd have ripped out my dreams for you
and my love was utterly fragmented
back there i whimpered against the staircase
watching the night drawl along
i always knew it'd never be enough for you

it's been a very long time
since I've looked at the stars
and seen stars

I am learning how to do everything again
how to live
after a decade of dying
how to get up and brush my teeth
and learn things
speak to people
how to look up at the stars
and not count the days until my death

there are days when the sweet blade against my skin
seems preferable than looking myself in the mirror
but the knives stay in the drawers now
not under the mattress

it's difficult now
but if I have done nothing in my life
at least I have learned how to live
how to see the stars
for once

Breath condensing against glass confines,
Out of order, out of being.
Undaunted rebellion against the boundless universe,
Splayed out onto bed sheets or forest ground.
In the corners of damp alleys.
Law, worries, ribbons undone.
Hair fallen, laughably bedraggled.
Melting snow dancing on raven feathers.
Faint fingertips skimming across that brazen chest.
Oxygen crestfallen for its own demise.
And oh, how it will die.
Kin with each unmerciful covenant.
Maimed by wayward kisses and borrowed time.
This mortal revolt championed by love.
God is dead and we are still here.
The world is ending, and we are still free.

Blistering honeydew pouring down
Hitting the ground like priceless china
Why do people even hold onto china
Crickets screeching and the mattress underneath me
And suddenly I am so aware of mortality
I want to bleed out the soft cushions
Let the insides rot away to the bone
All the lights and hands and people
Angels swirling around asking for directions
Even the mist is unbearable at times
O, god, I can't even hate you
I'll have to settle for abjuration
Home is where the cold hollow trees are
Home is where I wish I was

I am dying.
As the sun above settles in,
And the warmth of what should have been,
Plagues my aching, tangled form,
Tries to drag me, lifeless, home.
I am dying.
Like how we share this thing,
A lust, a necessity, this ring,
Wedding both our divine depravity,
Interwoven with mindless insanity.
I am dying.
Born to raze countries,
Or died to watch recoveries,
Authenticity is the soul,
Of all unmistakable “evil”.
I am dying.
We only know what we feel,
Only stand where we kneel,
And on our crippled knees,
We cover graves with the breeze.
I am dying.

I love you.
Since I saw the cracks in your bookshelf,
Your graceful hair intertwined with your shoulders,
The way you throw your head back and laugh.
If you are Juliet, I am death,
And I wonder how the snake felt,
Knowing he allowed Eve the apple.
I should hold my forked tongue,
For I know you would care for no,
Walking nervous breakdown.
Who could?
But this agonized black mass,
Writhing inside me, where my heart should be,
Barely living, barely dying.
Masquerading passion, good will.
I just need you to shoot it.

The view from up here,
Is all I can see.
The train goes by,
The lights go by,
My life goes by.
It’s all that it ever feels like,
A bleeding lip.
Me, my body, this mind.
Alone up here, legs dangling off, listening to the wind’s
Cacophony of heroes.
Like hell,
Like, at any moment I could slip off,
Fall onto the train tracks,
Let it take this away.
Feel the cold air all the way down.
My back no longer up against a wall,
And my legs never finding their balance.
I dream of the train taking my mangled silhouette away from this cliff,
Away from this air,
Away, into the night, every night.
Rolling on, wheels painted with blood.
Never have to watch those lights again.

Searing pain in the chest,
Longing for inclusion, for aid.
Rather a stab wound than be subject to,
Rejection.
Rather I touch fire than long,
Yet my eyes wander and nerves shake me,
Into the caged mist,
Like a cornered animal.
Any god would know I attempt,
Though I still wade in comfort,
Coddled by self mutilation.
The snake seeks refuge in the throat,
Thrashing as it sinks lower in the body,
Slamming each time against the lungs,
Desperate to escape this prison,
Decorated with dirt and sleepless nights.
My breath is stolen by its scales,
Bleeding out in mute acceptance.

Shattered glass on marble sand,
I feel heat spread on my palm.
Like tiger stripes to the beat of a,
Foreboding distant death psalm.
Enforcement of an oblivious executioner,
Unloving of a careful dawn.
My heart, my soul, my love isn't for me,
It's for something I can't act upon.