Let it go let it shake
earth quake founded over imaginary hate

I'm still near
you're living in fear
you push, I pull, we mirror
you wear a face like I can't see beyond it
I'll stand here all day if there's something willing to give
I can't dig through asphalt,
not sure if I can handle the quick sand underneath
Scrapes and wounds as I swirl down into your spell

I just want to breathe again
I just want the undeniable to shift to what once was deniable

My coffee's too bitter and
The thunder and locus
Weave a song,
Dissonant to my professor's  
Charlie-Brown teachings.
I should pay attention,
But the lightning illuminates my doubts.
I look around,
And I love the rain,
But I fear my peers and I
Are unharmonious.
I fear they cannot hear the storm.

"Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want."

Human psyche
**** spurs inside of me
Why must you try me, hide from me
Yet parts of you still fly inside of me
Can't quite shake you
Not sure if I want to
Not sure if I know how to
All I know is right now there's a fae inside telling lie,
Telling me you're relevant
Telling me you're dying inside too without me

You torment me
Is this your reflection, sadistic satisfaction or contradictory affection?
Still can't shake you

Early bird gets the worm
I want to make you squirm

No mental capacity to see anything outside of you and I
how did you learn to hold me without knowing me?
Nothing physical, something transcendental yet so far from tangible

Test me
Undress me
Impress me
Digress relevance, find me
No, I can't let you have all of me

I want you to chase me, never displace me, die breathless without me
What do I want more? Your attention or affection?

Amazing flow, where'd you go?
One day someone will appreciate me and all that I think I know
Hopefully the same day I find the courage to truly display me

I don't know if I lifted my dress up
so you could smell my grain-stained kneecaps
or notice the new bones
stroking your palms on my hips -

please acknowledge any part of me.

I'll always wait for the glasses to spill before I take them out.
I'll always empty my closets and let everything sleep on the bed.
I'll sit on the edge and have a staring contest with the mirror.
I'll always surrender.
The fan is buzzing.
There's a web in every corner.
Furniture is the devil's work.
I will always fall in love with walls and floors.
I hear the highways and I don't want to be here.
I'll always be homesick but only houses exist.
Homes are a myth.

I am Lex
And I am Alexandra.
I am not “baby” or “darling”.

I have more flies in my house than friends.

I am eighteen years old
But I feel as though the number should have an extra zero.

I am a student in more ways than one; of school, of the universe, of the stars in the night sky that I used to swear you hung all on your own for my eyes-
my gray-blue eyes with specks of yellow light around the pupils that make it look like I have always just been dancing in the street lights.

My pupils expand like black holes when my serotonin levels even out.

I am so short that I could pass as a pixie.
Five feet and one inch of metaphors that are so deeply rooted into my bones.
My ribcage knows truth like you placed it in my lungs for me to breathe in.

My hair is so indecisive, it changes colour biweekly.
I was born blonde.
My brother was born blue with a cord around his neck.

Every night before he goes to sleep he asks me to scratch his back.
I am older than he.
I feel that I am older than most.

I like old things.
If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.
I need someone with an old soul, I’m all Elvis and vinyl and Marilyn Monroe.
I could listen to Paul Simon’s “Live Rhymin’” on phonograph until I drop dead.

I wish it were winter all year long
But I don’t like being cold.

I collect tattoos like fireflies in mason jars.

I’m on pills that are supposed to make me happy.
I don’t think I’ve been happy since 2009
and I miss Her every day.

I’m more scared of life than death
but I no longer want to embrace dying.
Sometimes you forget to breathe just for a second, and then you realize
what you would be missing.

I think my depression is sort of like that.
It’s like being a bird and you’re the only one that can’t fly.

Nonetheless, I wish for stillness.
For peace, for fun in flatlines.
I wish for summer days by the lake
and no cell phone service.

I yearn for California.

I love reading so much that if I got paid for it,
I’d be a billionaire by now.
If you look into my eyes you could probably see traces of Sylvia Plath.

I wonder sometimes why she stuck her head in that oven.

I like vegetarian sushi, so basically just vegetables.
I was a vegetarian for a long while but then I decided that I wanted a hot dog.
I still regret that sometimes.

I’m afraid of frogs but nothing else.
I like to watch scary movies with the lights off.
I love to sleep, but I’m an insomniac.
And most of the time Melatonin doesn’t even knock me out.

I don’t believe in God but I believe in ghosts.
I don’t believe in hell but for Her sake, I hope there’s a heaven.
I believe in science but the class makes me want to rip my eyes out.
Except if it’s astronomy.

My parents usually depress me.

I believe purely in art.
Give me art or give me death.

I want to be a poet.
I want a living poet society.
My name is Lex
And this is 2013.

I wanted more than anything
to wash your mouth out with soap and rot
your teeth so no girl
would ever want to kiss you but me.

Told her things in ***** words you thought
you taught me,
but you weren't my first

tongue,
blood, use for a bandage.

-

I wanted to say I had swallowed pills
that hurt more than you.

-

I wanted to adopt lilies
as my little sisters to help them grow with
my tears -

something has
to get fertilized (has to be real).

-

I wanted to believe in fairness, that I'd
done something wrong

wrapped my lips
around the base too hard
you are what I needed so much, perhaps
it put an ache in more than just
my heart.

-

I wanted it to have been loneliness
not desire

(that is why I let someone's father put his
fingers in my mouth
and napped in lingerie his wife
never wore, and his daughter, aged

one year farther along
than me, heard us

me being his good girl, and
her understanding why she never was.)

yet you were not lonely
just painting a still life of two girls
with rubenesque thighs
you had hoped would last forever.

-

I did not want to be saved.

I would want to be a mermaid if it did not mean I would
be the reason why houses crumble,
saturated in salt, starving for plaster, unable to hold its bones together
as anything more than a butterfly cemetery.

In cages their baby wings can slip out of
but won’t,
coffins engraved like million year old fossils, rings on trees.

I would want to be a mermaid if it did not mean I would
drown any flower I touched or planted in a vase,
laid to eternal rest, unable to nurse sleeping butterflies back to health
and fill pea-sized bellies instead of locket-sized graves.

the clouds walk as slow as you,
fish never get any rest
they don’t sleep on their backs.

we are their
heaven, full of broken hearts
(i once saw a cloud that looked like one –
that is our heaven, too.)

the day you broke my heart i
temporarily stopped using my toes to
get you hard, stopped resting
my feet on
your lap and kissing you

like i were smoking a cigarette. inhale
without breathing,
that is what

it is to be a fish.
we are their heaven, eggsacks

the kind of person who spells lonely
wrong because somehow
he only has
forty-five chromosomes and

cannot walk
more than a few feet without
evaporating (breaking my heart.