A caged bird that sings to the wind like only a lover can.

I do back bends on roller coasters,
I want to be fearless.

I want heartbreak to be named after me,
so when you fall and shatter (yet again)
you are forced to say my name.

Regret coats my throat

A cough syrup that interrupts confessions

Unable to keep my eyes downcast
I gaze at the galaxies of the streetlights with my back to the pavement.

I trace trapezoids into my blue jeans
mouth confessions to the moon.

Press fingertips to taste buds
I can taste what I feel:
gravel
books
and pens

oh, and regret.

yeah, mostly that.

This incessant buzzing makes writing poetry nearly impossible.
Every time I exhale my dreams get stuck in my throat.
Writer’s block.

Holed up in my room watching films about Allen Ginsberg,
I howl out curses that make my toes curl.
I think this is where I admit that I am on a downwards spiral...

We have ourselves stuck in a Chinese finger trap.
If I could swallow my pride and just take a step in your direction,
We might be able to free ourselves.

I feel like shouting, singing and whistling just to drown out doubt

Down the rabbit hole
Schizophrenic

Pump my stomach let my words flow freely.
I need a release.
I need a fix.

Hands shut in the pages of novels
Feet stomping on pavement, sending vibrations through my bones.

My fingertips are numb but the words keep coming.
Forgiveness is something I will never master.