And if you're asking if I slept well the answer is no. My eyes and heart are aching with cement stuck in between my toes and your words in my fingers. Tears come back to burn like the summers sun - tripping on my own eyelids - drowning in winter - drowning in you.

Your voice croaks from all the plastic you've swallowed - shadow after shadow I'm on me knees begging that you won't have another drink.
You see, in afraid that the burning of all the camera flashes and ***** have replaced the warmth of a best friend.

You smell raw, like you just ripped your skin off your back the same way you take your shirt off - while I smell of rotting flowers that have perfumed my lungs for far too lung because my skin is hiding in the back of my closet.

It's pouring again - but this time revealing my chipped nail polish that each could only represent their own private islands,
And you are the toxic water I am floating in.

There's a fire in my eyes
and a flood in my bones

and there's a soaking wet mop going
back and forth
back and forth
wiping up tears from loving him,
to loving him.

I can feel my heart blistering - I still can't believe that I was able to pack us in one paper grocery bag.

Your lyrics are stuck on replay as if they were the only sentence or question that makes sense - "what would you have me do other than love you?"

Practicing the idea of striving to be like the moon, my thoughts and love burned away in the light
and you were the quite forest that stood still-
saying nothing of the changing leaves or season.

Hands shaking like earthquakes.
Thoughts racing as time has.
My body has become a natural disaster.

The cigarette in my hand is nothing but the light to a stick of TNT that the town has come to watch burn away,
as if I was lying,
just as you were when you said you loved me.


I didn't pay attention to the sinking ship we were sailing,
all that mattered was that we were a float.

So one last time I'll ask -
what the moon is to do without the sun?

I don't want you to love me anymore,
I want you to be in love with me.

With less than three months
I'm stuck in a downwards spiral
of clinging to your ankles for spontaneous
break outs of loving me to death
or being my death.

I could pray
I could beg you to stop,
but you break my heart every night when you don't show up.

The bags under my eyes don't represent a lack of sleep,
but rather a lack of sanity,
from chasing a ghost for the past six months.

Six hours to ******* forget me.

Forget your medicine.

Forget to breath.

Six minutes away form your house,
and six words left for you:

dependent, selfish, arrogant, immature, ***-licking ****-head.

maybe it's the rain pounding down on my ears

or the echoes of last summers laughter

those perfect yet empty beer cans that used to lie on your kitchen table

are a clear representation of who i've become


with no more love to give.


I'm numb from saving your attention

if only i had known those

memories made one blurred photograph

that you've kept hidden under your bed.



when i told them that after i reach those 4,000 miles i'm done

they sat in silence and nodded their heads because for the past 10 months

they too have been the empty beer cans on your kitchen table

waiting for you to throw them away.

with every touch comes another shock and fall
ing in love all over again.

with every look I see end
less days of mountains and you
r smile.

with every word I hear the trees around us breath & dream
t of promises coming true.

with every thought of you I can feel every at
om and every molecule race into my body and dance
to the thumping of a heart
that will never stop loving you.

With the increasing pace of an uneven heartbeat
It's my newest piece of
distressed art.
Quickly mixing stops and I'm sorry's leaving edges to crack next to thoughts.

I cut out the kinks with a tool for pretending
that everything will stay on the ground.
I try to recreate the shape I once knew,
but this time with tears for something that's lost.

For seven years now all I've wanted was you,
but this is something that I cannot mat.
I'll keep working on this until you say I'm done,
knowing that I'll be the one who pays the cost.

I hate you.

                                                         I hate you.



                 I hate you.

stop romanticizing death.
the sick image of me
laying on my grave
as you sit beside
shaking with unspoken words
of lost love.

old and new times come together
pretending that we are so easy
to recreate.

10 minutes away
tomorrow I am leaving
so why at my feet now,
all the emotions
that I don't want to step into
cover me in mud.

smoke blinds the past
time after time.

when is this night gonna end.

And if you're asking if I slept well the answer is no.
my eyes and heart are aching with cement stuck in between my toes
and your words in my fingers.
Tears come back to burn like the summer sun
tripping on my own eyelids
drowning in winter
drowning in you.  

Your voice croaks from all the plastic you've swallowed.
Shadow after shadow I'm on my knees begging that you won't have another drink;
you see, I'm afraid that the burning of all the camera flashes and ***** have replaced the warmth of long term friendships and sarcastic complains.

as the music takes control of two lonely people
we danced through these months
with bruised feet and
****** toes.

as the year comes to an end we pick old broken glass
from our fingers to leave them in the sun.
lets not forget sober sunsets
and intoxicated rises.

as a new one comes so does the end.
so let's say our goodbyes now
and maybe leave a piece in -
for two thousand
and thirteen.

the ocean is six miles deep.

you're buried six feet deep.

this the the sixth time I've thought of him tonight,

and the fifth to write it.

And
I feel like an onion. Layer after layer all
gone with nothing to say,
nothing but skin.

They're kissing and holding hands and
I think I'm going to be sick.

and,
I've come to realize that almost every poem
carries a cigarette, and that I'm burning away.

and,
I've spent years dying to die
aching for you to return my calls.

and,
I've spent $5 a week,
replacing your breathes
and promised pain.

They're whispering and telling each other how much they are in love and
he holds her close.

and,
now all I have is the hope that this rain will wash away our memories.

From body to box,
Sunday brought back the reminder that death,
is the only thing permanent in this world.

Tears burning a hole in my heart, thinking back of days
in which I was dying to die,
and what for?

I have yet to figure out why we
live, or what I'm supposed to
do. The complication of that thought
processing through my anxious mind
drives monsters in my stomach
and brain
to start tearing their ways out.
Leaving each new finger print
a face to forget, and each new sent
one to remember.


I'm confused,
as to why we bury what we love under
dirt, but really
why the box?

Why not let our remains be the sprout
to courageous wildflowers and
sweet nectar.


The past four years have brought change in
everyone, and everything loved. Battling with myself
for rights and wrongs and unknown
crumbling pavement.

Haunted with "Where will I go when I die?"
Who's to say when I'm dead, because by my definition
that was April 18th.


These questions
and jumbling
blurred
thoughts
pour out of my eyes, mouth, nose, and ears
Imitating some sort of overflowing volcano
of insanity.

What do I write
when the ink has seemed to freeze.

I'll stay up until 2 -
or something like that -
trying to get
some words to drip.

These sleepless nights
leaving me with the wonder
if my veins are imprinted in your heart
as yours are in my skin.

Slips of promises
that twinkle in our eyes
seeming to be strangers.

What is running through these memories.

"Cigarettes are nasty"
smoke flows out of us
onto that slab of concrete
we called home.

Burn marks
leaving the same scar
as your touch.

you've taught me
how to turn myself
inside out
and come home.

frozen blades of grass
brushing worn soles
cushioning the pathway
back to your house.
I passed out
and dreamt that familiar faces
swore for a world without me.
I believed them
unconsciously pouring out more tears.
broken nervous words.

I know the roads
that will take me to your street.
too terrified to walk
knowing that it's abandoned
leaving broken glass stuck in my feet.

I've laid here long enough
to realize the pain in my stomach.
Who are we to become so busy?
Who are we to forget?

Holding back
as lines start to blur
we forget who we were
with no answers on what to fix.

cold nights shake me.

"I'll stop believing in you
when you stop being real."

Screams won't ever do justice
to what i'm left feeling.
No more
nonsense.
pity talks.

Golden ornaments
circling my vision
became a cycle of falling
all over you.

My fingers
can't hold the times
you've dropped me.
****** and bruised.

Envious,
of dying plants
sitting in the corner.
Beautifully decomposing.

what more is there to say?

My eyes won't stay shut.
Overflowing with tears,
and every broken promise.
Haunting shadows.

This is a nightmare.
This is today.

I went home.
Body swore
from you slamming into me.
Gliding my hands
over the cactus,
******
become another face
that forgot.
Summer melted away while
friendships froze,
just as they said.
Sticky fingers
placing prints on new skin.
Everything diseased.
Crossed legs;
bottle of whiskey,
face dripping
with battle wounds
from a war like storm.
We should have broken the mirrors.

Stand in the street.
Four hours of Wednesday
marking me with gray bags
on my not so innocent teenage face
and tears painted across my forearms.
A canvas.

Letting candle wax
burn my crooked skin,
cigarettes are sewn together
one by one.  

Sloppy handshakes,
cold coffee.

It's covered my toes now.

A piece of art
is never finished
though.

So what am I becoming?

weekly episodes of panic attacks.
minimal motivation.
what have I become.

what have we become.

I love you.

and all three of those words
create an uneven frame,
hanging you up closest to my heart.

each night
before I leave,
I reread the sweetest combination of words
anyone has written to me,
and I pretend that you love me too.

I've been blinded
by your sweet eyes,
and forgiving embraces.
Knowing,
I'll never let myself  
look away.

Rivers of tears stream down my face
as I wait for a response
of any kind.
because your company kills me,
but I much rather prefer it
than being alone
on these cold
winter nights.

I can't stop fidgeting.

My stomach is going through a repetitive cycle of being turned inside out.

The voices of bratty adolescents are muffled through the floor.

In front of me are three self portraits.
None of which are happy.
What are you doing.

It's not time to go out yet.
I don't think i'll shower, either,
because there's no real reason.
I wont be seeing you tonight.

My nine year old sister and her friend are cackling in the room over.
Your smile comes to mind.

All these medications are driving me insane,
but in a way i've come to love it.
Being able to talk about things,
even though I really don't want to.

Why do so many people say live every day like it's your last,
yet judge the ones that do.

I feel like I'm sinking in a ocean of growing up,
and doing work.
With only a slice of playfulness out of the corner of my eye.  

what on earth is going on outside my door.

I've chosen to stay in
because today,
I like the company of my thoughts.
Even if they're not pleasant.

Right now
me:
girl
at desk
can't stay still
ankles crossed
light blue jeans
on the edge of her chair
gray shirt
long blonde wavy hair
glasses
energetic fingers
makeup run down her face.

Being in love with you has slowly killed me over the years,
but I still don't mind it.

I only wish that I could be for you
what you are to me.

**** me

for crumbling lies

for falling for you

for saying sorry

and my
un-ability
to accept.

firm hand shakes
with faded tattoos
and melting smiles.

So here it is;
you've got to come up with millions of different formations or twenty-six letters, creating and infinite amount of creative and descriptive words that will pour out your soul, hopes, and dreams, and if these combinations sparkle in their tired eyes then the gates will open wide and the future is yours to play with between your skinny paint covered fingers.

lets not waste our time
pretending to be in love,
when words have yet to be written
and I haven't heard from you today.

I take everything to heart.
That half hearted hug hangs loose on my hips.
I've been wondering around this forest with cement blocks tied to my feet
that I am simply too lazy to untie,
and I'm scared.

Every word spoken questions all i've done,
and what I'm doing.

I've fallen in love with too many people, and in that mess,
I have shattered my own heart,
and refuse to let it heal.

I can't write as beautifully as her,
but that doesn't make my words any less sincere.

In a way,
you've almost become another one of my medications,
and I hate being dependent on anything
or anyone.

I really wish that you would stop playing with me.
Although a year form now,
none of this will matter.

Ripped up and torn apart
as they always have been
I watched as your hands dig
through your pockets
in search of that last cigarette.
as smoke poured out of your mouth
I thought back to a time in which
my love did the same.
Two years previous
This would bring me to tears.
Studying your steady heartbeat
with each breath I wait for
"I miss you" to follow.

Telling you what you meant to me
ended with a reply of
"I know,
you've already told me"
but wether or not it's understood
runs away as time has. Leaving me
wondering, can you see
that i've been broken ever since?

Placing your chewed up chapped fingers
on my left knee, followed with an empty stare
possibly in search of words. Your eyes, now
empty muddy pools swirling with the different drugs
to keep the weekends exciting, are an abandoned
home. Yellowed teeth from the five
smoke breaks a day share the same spot as
cold coffee to keep you alive on these long nights.
Yet, for some reason butterflies still carry me away
when brought to company
even though, we don't appear to be
the same as we were
two years ago.

a list of songs
that I don't want to sing,
I wonder if when you smoke
I ever cross your mind.

kisses on the cheek
hang loose,
like toys do
in a tired child's hand.

and the only thing our lips
bring each other
are awkward greetings
followed by another sudden
departure.

I don't necessarily miss you
but I do miss the warmth you brought
home each night.

doodles of my tattoo
are found scattered through your notes.
you're pretending
that it's a coincidence.

Who was she
to disgust love
in your eyes.

empty hearts
being filled with the burning
of any alcoholic beverage
that we are presented with.

it's time to get up off the floor,
because you're not coming for me.

what has it all come to?
sleepless nights
filled with consuming anything
that will alter our bodies
and mind.
searching for a non-existing
company.

old lovers
and promises
run around
like marathons,
and each Saturday night,
I fall apart.

My limbs
cause nothing but trouble.
And leaving my body
wholey,
would be heavenly.

the leaves are changing,
and the long nights are getting colder.
there hasn't been a day in the past month in which I haven't cried,
and I'm terrified of what comes next.

papers clenched tight
with tears streaming down
a dirt covered face,
I wonder what  i've done this time.

Long car rides,
as such,
leave us to nothing but our thoughts;
wondering why the hell you would try and kiss me,
as your "lover" stood close.

like death,
She picks away at everyone and everything until they crumble
in her hands so that she can casually toss them to the side.
Going the extra mile,
making you want to turn inside out,
until she has her way.

One month ago you loved me,
and I wish
you were still my best friend.

I have found
that the most heartbreaking thing
is an unknown
last kiss.

chapped lips
locked up,
will no longer be the story tellers
carrying me to sleep
on drunk nights.

no more twig arms
keeping me close.

nor a simple smile,
to be greeted with.

as it did a year ago,
another slit,
with each thought of you.

I hate myself
for missing you.

Just kids,
i'm missing the taste of blood
in my mouth.

Skinny arms
draped over my shoulders
followed by loneliness.

Now,
with an unrecognized face,
I walk these halls with regret.
Knowing,
that forgetting
is not an option.

It's a shame,
not realizing what we have
until it's gone.
dried up worms decorate the side walk,
leaving the dirt,
nearly abandoned.

As machine work does,
I'm refueled each morning
with three pills,
replacing emotion
with steal.

you'll grow back,
as everything does
in the spring.
*******,
as we remembered that we no longer knew
how to love each other.

a cycle,
of becoming strangers.

take me back to the night of
whispers and glorious
realizations.

in which all was clear,
and I knew your signifagence
to my being.

my mouth
and mind
racing with the different combinations
of twenty six letters
to explain to you.

with your wand
simple breathes created solid forms of liquid
floating away
as I
remained the liquid
that ran down your hands.


fascination
with living in the past,
now tricks me

into thinking,
you'll always be mine.

for the past two months
I have layed awake
until
at least
three a.m.
or so
attempting
to write a poem that will
read sweeter
than your lovers touch.

but for now,
I think too much for this to ever be
a possibility.

I am weak,
and certainly not clever.

which I am comfortable with now.

I think.

Seven more nights
of overflowing sunsets,

Soon the sleepless nights
will be gone.

Empty bottles
and burnt our cigarettes
are the reminder
that nothing lasts forever.

Words can not describe
how much i'll miss
the comfort of your laugh.

On this morning
my lungs are filled with the
sweet smell
of gasoline
and tears
as I watch you leave.

These times have changed,
and nothing
will be the same
again.

Falling.


Until
I stumble upon
anything
anyone
something
that attaches to me.

Eat away my sanity
innocence,
and mind.

Morph me into what you want,
what I need to be.
I'm fine.
I'm perfect.
The best you ever had,
And then go.

Find a new flower to pluck.
Inhale its enchanting scent,
and rob it of its
unforgiving nectar.

Then leave it to decay,
As you did with me.

Let it rot in its vase
never to escape.
Stuck,
on your
bewitching touch.

The dust packs on heavier each day,
as a new snowfall
on a mountain top.
Let me disappear,
buried
in unspoken states.

Your blood flows like ink
And your words taste like *****.

Each look makes me feel
as if I am stuck in a storm
of knives.

I don't need anyone to tell me I'll be okay.
Or that everything is just
fine.

And I certainly did not order a subscription
for your *******.

The fly in my room reminds me
that all will be forgotten,
eventually.
Especially
you.

The bruises that decorate your pale skin,
greet me with a
"you were never mine",
yet,
I was always yours.

The flowers you picked for me sit
and decay,
much like
my kindness for you.

Another tooth falls out everyday.
Which I no longer care about,
Because no one ever listened in the first place.

Her obsession is eating you away,
you're simply
a cooked vegetable
now.

So this time,

close your eyes

when I go

to

hide.

Silent.

Her face is sore from wiping the tears away,
because she knew that everything
would soon
mean nothing.

And the words
"I don't know why I ever trusted you"
scream at her over and over again,
and all she can see is his face.

As she lays there
she allows each conversation they had
echo through her memories,
refusing
to let them slip away.

Looking in the mirror,
now
all she sees
is a corpse.
Filled with sinful thoughts,
that would make her mother cry.

But she takes it in,
Welcoming this feeling to
consume her.

Until she is nothing.

Until everything is nothing.

And she can be forgotten.

"You makes all the bad choices."
"It's not a surprise that you don't have any friends."
"You're the reason this family is falling apart."
"Hopeless."
"Little selfish good for nothing *****."
"You're a mess."
"Why are you such an idiot?"
"Why would anyone ever trust you."
"A disappointment."

"I wish we could be proud of you for something."

The sweet melody
of my parents voices,
whispering loving words
in my ears
each night.

and
I don't know what to tell you.

I am
nothing
but the
dead flowers
next to my bed.

A candle
that has been lit for
so long
that
it's
simply
a pile of wax.

*******
in knots,
not even I
can untangle
my thoughts.

For I am
a maze,
that no one
seems to figure out,
or
enjoy.

Maybe
I think
that sometimes
you are the same,
and that we could be lost,
together.