you said you need space
so i grew the solar system
from my neck
in hopes you might make
me your space

We had an energetic exchange
and his energy has intertwined with my own
and his children have sunken into my skin
and his lips are imprinted on my own.
I feel as if I have to discard myself in order to discard him
from me.
We made art with our bodies
and I can't tell you how artistic it was that he curves gently to the left
and his hands felt as if they were made only to grab my throat.
I loved every inch of his body
and I have it memorized so well
I could sketch it out.
He was art to me.
In every kiss was a song;
in every goodbye, a melancholy tear.
At night, I can remember the way his chaliced hands traced my figure
and how comforted I felt when his muscular arms hugged my limbs.
I can still taste him
and it's a taste that even Burnett's can rid me of.
He was mine;
every piece and square centimeter had my name on it,
but just as quickly as we fell in love,
my name was wiped clean by
someone
else.

It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.

2000 pounds of truth
seats upholstered with naïveté
a windshield of false pretenses
80 miles an hour right into my chest
a license plate that said forever

an animal lost in a little church

a hallucinating buzzard

snow
that light
replaced

I bite my lip and
twist the corners of
my shirt over and
over again
tap my feet and
run my hands through
my curtain of hair  

My chest contracts
and I feel so
suppressed and
awakened as if
just at this moment
I crawled out of my
rock and caught a
glimpse of the daylight

I'm trying so hard
to keep the crazy
different and expanding
thoughts together because
I know they're brilliant
but they have yet to be
spoken aloud or told

but it's difficult when
you're surrounded by
demanding flawed
people who are good
people but who will never be
able to see the true
hidden wonders of the
world

like how it isn't such
a simple place to run
or live in or make up
but a place filled with
hidden treasures and
different people of a kind
who will one day come
out and unite all our
extraordinary ideas

and I swear to myself
that I will live to contribute
to that day and it will
all have been worth it
in the end because
some sacrifices exist
towards the end of time
for the greater universe
that will be brought into
existence built upon
our soulful bones and
willful shoulders and
extraordinary ideas.

I plucked the blood soaked
molars from their bed,
witness the decay
growing in my head.
cavities collapse
on themselves, and yet,
I am here, standing.

scabs scratched under my
fingernails, scars made anew
stung by the sunlight,
I am on display for you.

take these shallow bones
and the hollow words,
carve my jaded eyes
and relieve this hurt
you caused when you touched.
you caused when you let
me love you this much.

That magazine you keep on your shelf,
That you haven't looked at, more than twice.
It holds all of my sympathy,
For I know, of what that felt.