she was a wash of milky moonlight
with purple iris veins
her fingernails glimmered like
the insides of shells as she laid
a delicate palm on the sleeping boy's
brow.
"i am your winter, i am your heartbreak"
she whispered into his dreams
and a shadow passed over his slumbering frame,
and it was nothing but night and rain
inside his subconscious.
she left with the scars of past regrets
and frosted jars filled with all the tragedies of
first love
the springs that turned rotten and foul
into a sticky heat  when flower buds die before they bloom.
with slow blinking eyes
the boy awoke
with his chest opened wide.
he clutched at his dilapidated heart
and wished for the icy caress of sleep
to pull him back under.

I watched my father kneel down on one knee over his parent's graves today.
      The stillness of the air
     was far greater than the few little
words that could have been spoken.
After a moment, he rose with a sigh,
wiping away several tears before
they could even leave his eyelashes.
     It was the first time I ever realized,
that one day,
  I too would be kneeling
over my parents,
devastated and speechless,
      leaving generations behind me
      with nothing more than
                   a faint
                          sigh.

so many places to go
so many things to see
so many things to do
so many people to meet

and yet i am stuck in this insignificant  town.

It's late at night when I crave your touch, and to be in your arms again.
Your emerald eyes piercing through me, causing my heart to skip, like a young girl playing on the sidewalk.
Your chestnut hair, all wild and untamed as my frantic fingers pull and run through it.
The softness of your lips, O those lips,
as pink as the morning skies when the sun begins to rise once more. Your rough hands possess a gentle touch
as they travel up and down the sacred temple which you call my body. I crave the feeling that overtakes me as you hold me through the darkest of nights,
our bodies and limbs a tangled mess
with the bedsheets. Your breath on my neck, warm and reassuring as you press your body, tightly against mine.
Because it's nights like these where your touch is my remedy.

I crawled into your back pocket quietly and folded myself up small, like the smoke from the cigarettes you always lit but never smoked.
I bumped into your last name everywhere because I may have managed to escape the slum but we all crawl back to where our hearts first beat.
You escaped with a lens in your fist and roads I will never drive down, buried deep in your feet.
I sat on your shoulders and kept quiet. I watched every girl you fell in love with and I felt burns on my hands every time one pushed your hair back out from your eyes.
The girl from Missouri with the long brown hair counted 49 freckles but I knew about the 2 that were kept hidden under your knees and I scolded every girl who thought they loved you like I did.
I sleep with bones who cry out for my touch but sometimes they whisper for a girl whose name is different from my own. Her name tastes like sewage in the back of my throat.
I know love because I curled his hair around my finger. And I know that someday my children with have a head full of it.
But when you taught me love it was filled with new beginnings. But you went too far and I waved you off and sat back in the dust I had come from and told myself I was better off and you were crazy.
You traveled through towns I may never know and shook hands with people I will never see. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if we kept holding hands. Mine got sweaty and your long legs moved too fast. My heart became heavy and held me down. You
Sometimes I sleep across your room on the old blue chair with my back towards you. Sometimes I hear you whisper my name and I know you still feel my hands slipping up your shirt and drawing constellations of how our future should have mapped out between freckles and old acne scars.

I am that faint dream you had
The spark of the unlit match
Long ago on a summer afternoon
The scent that leaves too soon

Like the faded dancing flame
Of the early morning light
In frevour and fury untamed
I die with the departing night

The flash flood in the spring river
Needing only a moment to deliver
Lasting pain and unending harm
I leave quick but take the calm

I am the thunder that struck
And burned everything to dust
In an instant I come and go
You know I am fatal though

you always say the opposite
But I suppose you only like girls
who are shattered and want to get hurt

you love having your claws gripped deep onto their hips
digging into their skin
making sure that the cuts and the bruises you are creating are in a shape of a heart and that
your claws are so deep in
so that when the blood is dripping onto the ground,
you are facing the ground
smiling
looking at how beautiful it is seeing your name in blood

j.f

I dream of going far away.
Plunging into the grandeur
And the vastness
Of the world.
I am ready to leave this place;
I am ready, I say,
To be away.

I will write and draw,
And take drugs with strangers.
I will sleep on the beach,
Bathe in rivers,
And plunge into nature,
Away from four walls,
From screens and cars,
And toward greenery and stars;
Splendid laughter and epiphanies
Spilling from the ether,
Behind trees and over mountains,
In the silent water of calm lakes,
And in the crimson sky
Of some northwestern twilight.

I will wander abandoned roads
And drink coffee in midnight diners
Thousands of miles from home,
For the road beckons,
And the moon never waits.

The wanderlust of youth
Is nothing to waste.