i remembered the rose
in the vase on my desk
dried up but, somehow, intact
and when i picked it up
to toss it outside
a few petals fell away
drifted to the floor
and all i could do was sigh
and say
i know.

somewhere out there
there's a blue house along the shore
abandoned, empty, with wooden planks covering broken windows
debris and rock collects around the support beams
as hurricanes make the beach increasingly claustrophobic
and if you lay on the hot sand
letting the sun burn your bare arms
and close your eyes really tight
you can see the ghosts of two adolescents
whose adolescence has since been obliterated by love
and hear their desperate voices cry out into the bright blue skies
messy prose of blurred confession and stolen honesty

but your concentration will waver
and their throats will fill with ocean water
they will become weighed down by each other's presence
and suffocate beneath each other's scarred skin
one's lips stealing the breath from the other
and in your temporary state of neglect
you won't be watching when they die

so carry their bones away and burn them
let their ashes become one with the sand
and watch them disperse with the 12 o'clock high tide
come, see the weeds flourish
where their warmth once fostered daisies
and let their fragile organs decay
along with the remains
of their salty love

it might've meant more
if any of the words we used
had actually been ours
though I guess that explains
why when you left
and I looked to see if my heart was okay
there was just an empty space
the veins ******* in MLA-formatted knots
like citations
for all your stolen speeches

I am here, I'm home
Dwelling shadow, all alone
No echo to be heard

When I said,
"i
Hope
you're a big star one day"

...
i meant it quite literally

Light-years away and
constantly imploding

Maybe I need you;
The most suicidal sentiment
A chamber my heart and mind dared to open
My chest, open, red and live as after birth

Maybe I just need something;
Something to live by
Something to pick at, and master like inhale, exhale
Give me purpose, give me religion, give me sense

Berlin no longer has walls
A war is for those who can see it
A one way ticket from poisoned routine
A single cigarette, chain smoked

Materials become only threads on my back
Pull apart the fibres, till I am bare
Year zero, cotton picking
You'll be my one drink in the dessert

any holiday can go on and commit suicide in some old ****
coconut
postcard, I reckon.
it’s alrite here.
it’s not burning and the sand is a lame type of concrete, but
it has a lot of life. there’s even coral here, I probably need you
to call me up and have you explain it to me
but it’s here
all the same;
there’s howling monkeys that can open yoking orange suns, that
don’t know what to do, we wont ignore them though;
they keep on skipping around
pulling
the tide up to our seats-like they like the raw smell we give off
its normal in the city but unknown here
we fight- nothing
the world dives into itself
and see’s that it still sings
the resort keeps on beating behind the eyes of the falling sunset
the calls of our skin are catnip to the flying things and moving things
we walk across the beach as it follows from 11 to 3 and 4am.
it dies and leaves the moon screaming
in sirens within the black distance of the shore
the vehicle that comes as we sleep
holds open the road with our eyes
and remains eternally as we wake.