I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

and I will remember Suzanne Vega
every time I hear your name

I will take that look
of Vivienne Westwood's

and I will sing and sing and sing
and sink and sink and sink

and I will not think
of the appropriate things

Because I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

Even though long scarf does not suit this neck
and gas oven does not fit this head

and .38 caliber revolver is not
something a 17 year old girl would own

there is no need to worry
because now I know what loves me

It is not the explosion, not the oxygen
Not the carbondioxide, not the cyanide

It is the water, any kind of water
the tears, the saliva, the seawater

And I learnt from Haruki Murakami
that even a plastic bag would do

Mimicking the deepest sea
The sensation is true, is true ----

I remember; you liked a lot the word drown
You liked a lot the word drown

There is an old adage - I'm sure you've heard it - that life without movement is death.

today I feel the truth of it
somewhere between my sternum and my spine
as I sit here
the parade of life rushing by
in a distinct effort
to leave me
behind
and all I can think
all I can hear
all I can know
is


*"I am most certainly dying."

My dad dug his foot into my back like a shovel breaking soil.
If I do enough push ups, can I put a smile on your face.
If I move the earth for you, will meteors stop me.

I carried sparklers in my hands while cannon-kisses erupted in the sky,
and my cousin swore that I'd hurt myself.
But I explained to him that history repeats itself,
and that my hurt is unavoidable.

Like the hug of a grieving grandmother,
and the staring off into space,
as her tears stain my white oxford lie.
There's no way to get out of this place.
Finding new ways to live in death.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.

And her fingers left a ******* on my back.
And my mouth melted onto hers.
I love her until my eyes **** in sleep.
And it's deep. And it's deep.

The swirl of the ceiling sank down
like a child being drowned by his mother.
And I missed my brother, and I missed it all.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.
No, not anymore.

I wanted to ask whether you liked being found in
Back street alleys and empty beer bottles
But you were never conscious enough when I saw you
So I just went home and drank whisky and said a prayer
Hoping you’d get some decent sleep

I know you live in that crumbling house with those strange twins
Because your real home doesn’t hold much of a family anymore
I understand
You give me the sweetest, saddest vibe
So much so that when I touch you I don’t want to let go

I know I’m a cliché
You told me to never make you into a poem
You said you didn’t want to live forever through words
But I’m afraid I’ve written a novels’ worth about you

You wear a halo of dead dandelions
And t-shirts that are now far too big for you
You need to eat
You need to live

Go to Germany and drink beer
And take long train journeys in the sunshine
Soak up all the warmth you can find
Wear your sunglasses, smoke your cigarettes and take everything you can.

You will never be free
from me

You will live forever
in me

You will be dead but
I will maintain your corpse
so well, with super great care
while waiting for Isa to
come back --

Well, the truth is
you have died
(too many times)
but you resurrect
again and again and
I don't mind you
tearing off the butterflies' wings
because they still can
walk
and tickle this fatty stomach

Whatever it is!
Even when you find hate in whatever
Do not worry, for you are Jesus
The Savior
You are God

You are Jesus!
You are God!

The Unnamed Woman's perfume
still lingers on your feet
and
I believe in you

I believe in you

"... Blessed are those who believe
without seeing me." (John 20:29)

even when I see contradictions
and injustices
even when you, when I, be
the contradictions and
the injustices --

You will never be free
from me
You will live forever
in me

Did you see me in the rainbow
Did you feel me in the sun
Did you hear me in the swallows call
When all your chores were done.
Did you hear me in the laughing brook
or the changing of the tide
For I am always here my love,
forever by your side.

Hear my name as grasses whisper
gently stirred by summers breeze,
as the skylark sings my love for you
above the rustling trees.
Here I dance in your hearts meadow,
daisy chains set in my hair,
If ever you're in need of me
you'll find me waiting there.

I am
So tired.
I am cold
And white
And blind.
On my wrists,
Defensive wounds
From a vicious love,
From the kisses
Of a black asp
With constellation eyes.

I have been reliving my death.
I have been choosing
That sweet, frigid venom,
An addict dripping poison into my veins.

But I am
So tired.
I am spent
And lost
And alone.
There are bruises on the soft insides of my arms
From a habit of worshiping
Sharp things.
Under my fingernails,
Dark soil
Evidence of a grave I've overcome
Too many times
And a struggle I've won
At a cost.

I am sick of death.
Sick of attending funerals for the futures I lose
Brutally and unexpectedly.
I am sick of being tolerated.
I am sick of being
Sorry.
I want to feel life in me.
I want to learn the taste of sunlight
And safety.
Of forgiveness--
I hear
It is sweet as warm honey.
(I wouldn't
Know)

I have gazed....
Oh, I have gazed long,
And the void saw me
As I saw it.
And long after I wished I could look elsewhere
I stood, gorgonized, on the edge.

Hold my hand.
Remind me that I have hands.
Spread light
In me.
Forgive me for my gravity as I lean forward on that hollow breeze that's always calling.
Pull me back and keep me
Steady.

I will never be
On solid ground.
I will never be easy.
I will never be
Safe.
I am half light and half shadow,
Half joy and half pain,
Half kindness and half anger.
I am a great, twisted tree,
With my branches in heaven
And my roots
In hell.
Love that in me,
Will you?
Will somebody?
I am ready
To bloom.
I am ready
To live.
I am ready to be exactly
What I am.