staring into blue and green bigness
lost in the sky of her soul
repeating the nightmarish nothingness feeling
this emotion has left me immobile
she's big and blinks and breathes on her own
and she moves when i move
but this girl who is just a body bag
is not me can't be me was never me
however the trance has come to an end
and i've blinked
and i've realized the only difference
between the mirror and me
is that i can think
and i am alive
but you, the reflection, has no soul
Her head a cloak of messy stars
Held high amongst the loveless
Queen of the tortured
Ring in your dead horses
Yesterday burnt edges of lace and pearls
Drape death’s bone structure upon your face
Happiness; a vow you gave on your living days
Sugar-covered strawberries; promises lost
The death gallop with a wave of her hand
Blink the good fight tear my pearls
No longer hungry eat my words
A vortex you’ve fallen into dead bride
A final shower of bones and velvet
You’ve waited so long to reach the bottom
Laugh at the darkness
Long ago the same charade
Except blood was pumping
Honey, stop scraping your knees
The light will be at the bottom as long as you’ve had a memorable time getting there
This is your life as a performance.
It’s the horseshoe necklace tickling your neck.
And rhythm in between steps.
Like tomorrow could die if we sidestep the question mark.
You say “hold your breath.”
“What about your future?”
You say, “ That’s irresponsible. Sit in a giant box covered with lies.”
“Shut up play thing. I need to work. You need to work.”
Full of something else-
We are all full of something else.
Grandma’s Belgian waffles
“I’m stuck.” Jack screamed but the child
Shut down the headphones.
Inside the circus.
Wait until he’s let you out!
Here it comes.
Wind up the velocity.
Elongate your stride.
Jibber my jabber.
Here comes Jack.
And she baked cookies with your initials on top
Your name happens to be “Untitled”
So there’s a giant question mark.
Full of dough and sugar.
It tasted like Jack’s defecation.
Delicious is mutilation.
The East cries at night for the attention of vapor.
See the beautiful sunset bleeding into itself.
See the orange sky because
Of cans soot and damage.
The sunset smacks the horizon.
See the orange sky because they wouldn’t call you back-
Chained to a tree out west.
The transition will arrive.
Like an annoying child sitting between our see saw
We won’t go anywhere.
Until they leave and
I’ve made it ‘round the curve.
But I threw up a little syrup.
“Shoot for the dot.” And SMACK me harder.
And SMACK the shoes.
And SMACK those beating bleeding blood bags.
But don’t smack your gum.
Wrap yourself in pearls but put your ***** feet into heels.
Give me something that’s dreadfully whimsical.
Jack has made it out alive.
With a smile.
But the little boy hears his cry.
Grasping for life-
I discovered roller coasters for the first time after I saw my therapist
She told me I had
OCD, DID, ADD, and an eating
disorder She told me to keep it simple and
stop trying to please others I told her to set herself
on fire I decide to take my damaged *** to an amusement
park and tell the drive I’m allowed I’m 5’4 You’re a ***** I spit
on him and jump into the car I defy gravity by myself on this tipsy turvy
future mobile I go up and into space and ride through clichés until my overalls
Snap off and set me free where I float without medication Snap out of it, you hairy
**** You never know how it feels to lose control until you’ve lost all control She never
Knew With the giant pebbles and water cascading downwards in a freefall And the terrible
feng shui that parts her massive thighs point my eyes into her pant stain while my entire head
falls down for the bottom A sick endless cycle of torture just like
the Mexican chanting annual melodies
…at a Tucson establishment
…sitting on truck tables at the doctor’s office
…cutting off DNA into style
…fighting off fever with drive by flu shots
So I count to 5
make hot cocoa
And tap the doorway
I try on 4 different pairs of pants
eat an entire bag of Cheetos and
It’s all situational and relative and ridiculous
I don’t care if some 14 year old wears orange lipstick and
***** off her math teacher
Tell me Doctor what’s the diagnosis for my sick bluish foot
Oh you’re right I guess I do need to vacate the premises
The Land of the Lepers exists and we have renamed it “America”
— The End —