I've been out of breath all day
Maybe I went jogging in your mind?
I don't understand pickup lines, I just miss you.

Water bubbling merrily!
Pots filled with vegetables
All bright colors and anticipation
Waiting for the delicious nutrition soon to come.
Poppopbubblebubble!
I smell barbecue chicken in the oven too.

When all your sense know it's there
You know it's dinner time.

Dinosaur, o dinosaur
Noblest of creatures!
Why must you have been struck down
With your graceful features?
Perhaps you are still around
And you are just in hiding.
Perhaps you are just waiting,
Your time you are biding.
One day soon I hope we'll meet
And with prowess you will thrill me
Because I feel sure that
We are one, and you will not **** me.

I  am a goddess of the sea.
My skin is red with sun,
My hair swirls like a jetty.
My eyes are dark green from natural knowledge.

I am a goddess of the sea
And your petty rules and expectations
Have no effect
On us eternals.

I will forever be eight-teen
And have freckles on my nose
And sand in my soul.

You're snoring now.
That means you're asleep.
I wonder how drunk you were.
Do you remember
Blaming your first-born daughter
For the mistakes of you and yours?
Do you remember
Calling your first-born son
An alcoholic mental patient?
Do you remember making your children cry?
This never happens.
Maybe this is why you never drink.

I wish I missed people.
I feel like by never missing anyone
I demean the relationships I have.
I just can't help it.
Sometimes I wish someone in particular was with me
But those feelings are always short
And fleeting.
By never needing anyone
When I know how much the other person misses me
I feel like I'm not as committed to them as they are to me.
It's not on purpose.
I tell them I miss them when they say it first
but it's always a lie.

Maybe I'm just a sociopath.

I want to struggle against your restraints.
I want you to lose control.
I want to lose control.

Force is not a ***** word.

I want you to
show
me
what
you're
made
of.

He and I
Are oil and water.
He is cigarettes and ravioli;
I am cranberries and ramen.

The great benefactor?
Yes, a factor
But not the end.
Not the root.
I shall never be a beggar.

Hark, calls reality
Indifference is aching for you.
Threatening, forcing.
Beware, or it shall overcome you.

I was never good at chemistry
And what is painting but a solution?
What are we but unstable?

Perhaps we are just allotropes.

I like to read my own poems.

Not because they're particularly beautiful
I know better than to believe that
But because they remind that I'm human.
I have emotions
I have thoughts
I have fears.

They consume me
Because they let me know I'm real.
I do exist.

Sweet, smooth, bright-green beauty,
Chunks of chocolate perfection
Generously swept through the soft swirls.
An ******* minty dessert.

An oral fixation
Perhaps falsified, as an excuse-
Skin, turned to hard rubber
Lips, turned to lust
A tongue, turned to love

A caress doesn't have to come from hands.

Scratch-scratch-scratch
You can hear my hand against my leg.
Scratch-scratch-scratch
Primal hair versus modern skin
Scratch-scratch-scratch
Soft versus rough
Smooth versus jagged
This will be a fight to the death!

******* does not appeal to me.
According to the masses
It is a delicious experience
With only bliss and comfort involved.
To me
It is awkward
Uncomfortable
And fruitless.

When your face descends
My mouth puckers up
My eyes close
And I just try to not offend you.

Don't get mad.
Don't get mad.
Don't get mad.
Immaturity knows not what it says.

It doesn't realize.
It doesn't realize the enormity of being a drain on society.
It doesn't realize the hypocrisy
In criticizing me.

I'm the one with a job.
I'm the one with a home.

I'm not the one who's willing to drop mad cash
For a cyber unreality, used as
Avoidance behavior
For two days
And then thrown away.

Immaturity needs to grow up
And learn from me.
Not the other way around.

A friend
Is someone who will call you
At two thirty in the morning
[since they know your sleeping habits]
To reassure you about your body image.
And friends are beautiful.

My toenails are metallic blue.
My feet are scrubbed and soft.
An older Asian woman with leathery skin
And crazy soft hands
has polished them to perfection.
She told me about eHarmony
Her ****-clothes
Her elderly boyfriend.
In an accent I could barely understand
She told me about her life.
She rubbed my calves with lime green
Exfoliants
And lotioned my legs
With cream-colored juice.
Her nails were French-tipped
And long.
She flicked off the excess polish with them.

She does this dozens of times a day.
Dozens of pairs of feet.
I wonder how many people have heard her story
And know about her rich boyfriend.
How many people have felt those soft hands
On their toes.
I wonder where else those hands have been
On her old boyfriend.

Tyra Banks was the first person
I touched myself to the thought of.
I didn't know what genitalia was
But her *******
seemed
so
inviting.

You sicken me.
That wasn't even a real compliment.
She said you did a job well
That a monkey could do just as well.
You are pathetic.
Don't get that disgusting
Gleam
In your eye
Just because of a positive acknowledgement.
You are like a puppy
Whose master called it a good boy
For finding a stick in an empty yard.
You are reliant.
Desperate.
Pathetic.

You don't deserve anything.

Just feel don't know
Need love want hope
End up all alone
End up in a retirement home

Taste heart smell sun
Dance shake shimmy fun
Run into guy with a gun
Run in the convent be a nun

Worship jesus worship god
Hate the devil hate the rod
Celibate and frozen solid
No one ever sees your ***

Age wrinkle die alone
Empty heart empty throne
Wasted life on fake credo
Now you die, now you go

Who's that pale chick
Mumbling to herself about
Fictional schools of witchcraft and wizardry
And trolleys and snakes?

Oh that's just Christine
She's not that bad
If she tells you she's a
Reanimated corpse
Walking among the living by using brains as sustenance
Don't pay any attention.
She's probably just kidding.

I stopped loving you on my birthday. Did you know that?
It shocked me out of that confused numbness I'd been living in
Momentarily.

Like a twig snapping
A candle, quickly snuffed.
All the other cliches people use to say that what was,
Suddenly isn't.
Can't be, anymore.

But it was sudden
And it was shocking
And I didn't know what to do.

So I tried to pass it off as ***
Or stress, or distraction. But I knew what it was.
I knew what it wasn't, anymore. You didn't.

I wonder when you stopped loving me
Because surely you've stopped loving me
And I'm glad you've stopped loving me.
It's all I hoped for, from that day to the end.
I hope it was before the end.

For my birthday, I made my cupcakes
Drank my liquor
And prepared myself to remember how to love you.
But I knew I couldn't, anymore.

Your hands are torches
And you're writing sonnets on my skin with fire.
Instead of welding me and you together
You open my flesh
And burn my essence.
Your lips create the wind that blows the flames
Heating more by the minute.
And as you speak, I burn.
When you press the bellows to me
It only fuels my furnace.
This is the fire only you can start
And I'm aching for you to put out.

(Firehose, please.)

Pretty girls
Pretty blonde girls, pretty brown girls
Try on wedding dresses on late-night cable.
The dresses are pretty too.
Organza and flow and corset and satin.
Pretty dresses for pretty girls
Who will marry pretty boys in a pretty church.
One is less pretty
Fittingly, her dress is less pretty.
Where most have satin, she has cotton.
Eco-friendly, she says.
I like it.
She not very pretty
She's neither blonde nor brown
I wonder what her boy is
And where her wedding is
And if everything is "offbeat" in her wedding.
I hope she gets to use an adjective
Other than pretty.

My shallow breaths
Not in enough, not out enough
Drown me in oxygen, not h20.
Forgetting what "slow down" means
Is a dangerous thing.

And my hammering heart
Too fast, too hard
Pounding out an imprint on my shirt
An engraved bloated pear, for all to see.
Does it starve when not in love?

And you, there.
Slowed down, not as time
As an individual. A marker of time.
A maker of metaphor.
Remind me to breathe
Remind me to
s l o w d o w n.

And me, here.
Too fast, too slow.
A potato imprint
Of changing, of change.
A penny for a thought
A nickel for a word
A quarter for a second
Stolen from my mind.

Betrayed
Belittled
Baking, burning between battles.
Blundering, blustering
Begging by bribing.
Bribing by begging.
Best?
Bottom.
Boastful, bragging baboon.

Bye.

I am woman
Hear me moan.
See me arch
Feel me groan.

I am woman
And I will prove to thee
That I am all
I need to be.

I am woman
And I am strong.
I am mighty
I belong.

I am woman
These ******* are mine.
This *** is hot
And these hips are fine.

You're an anomaly.
Your frizzy hair
And strange birthmarks
Give off a less than fantastic impression
To the shallow.
You are soft spoken
You are obsessed with fan fiction.

I hear that you write...

I know that you are
A home schooled super-christian.
Maybe that's part of the reason
For my lack of understanding.

You are an alien
In my socially awkward agnostic world.

Lime green freezer pops
Swigs of senor Jack Daniels
My body gets hot.

-------------------------------

Jacky versus wine
Will fight to the death tonight
Victor gets a home

---------------------------------

Baby-making songs
(The world tastes like raspberry!)
Jazz flute Godzilla

-------------------------------

Little black cell phone
Glows modern techno at night
Rad leaks in my brain.

(I am now a spidercorn!)

---------------------------------

Idiotic cat
Sole bane of my living room
You should've been a dog

--------------------------------

Woman and man-thing
Flame haired goddess of cleavage
Mid-coitus phonecalls.

---------------------------------

Two shots of whiskey
One sibling revelation
Long night of country.

--------------------------------

Blood-baths, hair stylists
****** eye for the dead guy
Joanne: **** the man.

-------------------------------

A nice hairy man
Smirnoffs, beer pong victory.
Did I do a bad?

----------------------------------

I am drunk on you
And on you conversation
More than on the beer.

---------------------------------
Whiskey sours, full.
Half-**** swimming with strangers.
Attraction repressed.

----------------------------
Oh my pretty beer
You so inspire my mind
I can't stop giggling.

-----------------------------
Hank bones on the wall
A sad tale of pretending
Oh no! Demon feet.

I changed all my passwords
So they don't include your name.
I switched to 'single' on that website.
I'm taking down all your pictures
And putting them away.
You say you won't let me go
But I hope you will.
You deserve better than me, anyway.

The thing is, I didn't cry.
You did the exact same thing as last time
But I had my will.
I didn't even cry.

The word that reminds me of you most is delightful
Which is weird, I guess.

That's not the word I'd choose to describe you with.
Those words mostly start with I.
Interesting. Intense. Intellectual.

But it reminds me of you.
It's what you said when you met me.
The combination of your diction
And your reference to gods of old
Made me interested.
Made me want to know you.

It's what you said about a shirt, once.
Before we technically started.
Delightfully low cut, remember?
It made me think you might be interested in a certain side of me too.
That was after I realized how very intense
Those shivers you gave me were.

And you said I would say delightful things while drunk
And then we had that hour long conversation
About male prostitution in "Gone With the Wind".
The most intellectual dialogue yet, for drinking.

And I guess the beginnings are always what we remember best.
So, delightful is what I remember.

She sits silently
Shellacked, superglued sans sound.
Cornered, Christine clenches
Claws covering cowardice
Comfort.
Taut tongue tangibly taciturn
Turns, transforms til truly torpid.
Silence caused transformation.
She is now an armchair.

Why yes sir
Of course I can assist you.
It's my job, after all.
Oh, you need to be measured for your suit?
Well if you insist.
I seem to have lost my tape measurer
I suppose I'll have to use my hands
For your inseam.
Your thighs are so thick and strong...
Oh, you're a 34.

so beautiful
so attentive
so smart
so hairy

not worth the consequences.
he is more important. (?)

(on sober observation
he was still beautiful
and attentive
and smart
and hairy
and he still made me happy
on that warm drunken night.)

(i thought you were supposed to regret?)

Superman boxers
Big little mister pops out.
A friendly greeting.

My hair is a jungle.
Wild and dangerous
The color of a palm tree's trunk.
It flows down like a waterfall
With wild rapids at the bottom.
The mysteries of the Amazon are in there
Along with the fire of secret indigenous tribes.
Layers of complex ecosystems
(similar to the various hormonal states of a young adult female)
Make it a treacherous place to venture
But some come out alive.
You cannot tame the wild jungle
Unless you cut it down.

The future is grimunexcitingdepressingunwanted.
Too late to change anything, though.

What a shame.

I like most to feel your skin on my skin
Flesh to flesh- a holy palmer's kiss, but body to body.
I like next to feel your heartbeat connecting to mine.
An iron rod, bringing me to you.

*** is not, when your body heat is missing
Or when your breath isn't in my ear
Or giving me goosebumps.
I need your eyes, my eyes, locked together
Like a Chinese finger trap.

Sure, vibrations are nice
But I prefer to get them from your voice
Not from batteries.
Batteries are cold, but your voice can burn me.
And when the heat waves and sound waves combine
What other vibration is needed?

I need your warm, your hard
Strong, insistent, wanting.
Or I need your soft, your kiss, your love.
Either way,
I do not need my plastic
When you allow me that.

Anger is weakness.
Temper is weakness.

I let it consume me for minutes
Reach the haven
For calmer thought.

Acceptance
Indifference
Strength returns to me.

What others do should not affect you.
They can do as they please.
Possessiveness got the better of me
But in reality
It doesn't matter

All is well.

A little black kitten
Spawn of witchcraft and Satan
Watches flames flickering
In manmade wax.
He bats at fire
To see if he's invincible
To see if the sorcery protects him.
I can smell the burning wicks.

His whiskers are bent
And his claws are long
And sharpened to fight
Against those who enter his territory.

The witches will protect him
And Satan will welcome him
When he tires of this world.

calm
d
o
w
n


not everything is about you
not everything is important
and those two aren't mutually inclusive

you are lovely
but your firehair
goes to the inside as well

She wasn't happy here.
She claimed it was because
Her people
Her lifelong friends
Were up there.
She blamed her depression on the city
And its early hours.
Her lack of purpose
Lack of stimulation.
But she's there now
And she complains of the same malaise.
Apparently the problem
Is not in her surroundings.
It's in her.

Bohemian goddesses stalking the coffeehouse
All wiry hair and flowing skirts
Points of view and opinions and self worth
How her soul craved to join them
Don headbands and sandals and learn to be like them
To play the bongos and be part of natures and kove what’s real
She wanted to feel her soul in the mass joining of the human spirit

She envisioned it, and it was beautiful.

They scoot together slowly
Body language lubricated by *****.
They are still awkward...
He tries to win favors with alcohol
And laughter.
She just goes along with it
Happy for attention
And free drinks.
An interesting courtship
Monitored by Pastor Smirnoff.

I breathe your name as that of a deity
And look at you with stars in my eyes
For it seems you must have come from the heavens.
And if you are of the stars, I am surely of the earth.
You, light and explosions
I, soil and and photosynthesis.
I am devouring you for nutrients.

I am entranced by the tastes of our bodies mingling
The taste of you on my tongue.
The taste of me on your lips.

But I am entranced by you even more.

Gray matter unfolds
To expose a world hence unseen.
What you thought was soft muscle
Is actually a community of golden pathways,
Carved from the hollow horns
Of unicorns, slayers of virgins.

Like a deconstructed accordion,
It flattens
And reveals a soul, a heart
Floating through space on the back of his fingers.

The deepest annals of the universe
Are uncovered for your eyes only
And for those few blessed moments
There is only greatness.

I wonder if it's harder for you
Or easier, or nothing.
It's hard for me.

Awake: alone.
Phone: silent.
Home: not home.

It comes in waves
And when I think it's stopped, the cat looks at me like that
Or you say "you can take the bed"
Or I see others, being what we were, long ago.
They won't stop coming.

Out of no where, torrential rains attacked
Leaving class, on the public bus
In the shower where we made love, once.
Twice
Three times.
It's over.

This noise is acid on my brain
burning straight through
leaving none in its path.

I feel it-
the loss
the pain
the sizzle.
The empty hole it leaves
running straight from my skull to my breast.

I wish it would spread.
Leaving one with a hole is cruelty.
Destroying the total is a gift.

My hands aren't big enough to be a substitute for yours.
Wrong size, wrong texture, wrong angle.

I need you, warm on my ****.
I need your fingers swirling in me.
I need you talking to me
And looking at me with that predatory stare.

I need you now.

Strong hands, big and warm
Covering, comforting and caressing me.
Smoothing my skin.
Erasing my erosion.

In wide strokes of blackboard Braille-
*It's all going to be ok.

I don't like talking.
Sharing is uncomfortable
Understanding is difficult.

I like to be
a l o n e

It's not meant in offense to anyone
Though I often end up offending when
They make me talk
Or I talk to myself.
I don't really think
Anything sentient is all that great
Including myself...
(Not that I think immobile things are fantastic. They are nothing.)

Socializing is pressure
When forced, I sometimes don't even feel like I'm really there
Being in the same room as others
Cause friction in my brain.
Synapses explode
The tiny unicorns that handle maintenance
Get distracted
Nothing good happens.

I like to be alone
But I hate small spaces.
Therefore, my life is a compromise.