hold up a second,
My mind is stuck on one thought,
And it has been the last week
But i don't feel like writing about it,
*I would write for days.

I feel that to write
I cannot go on
For now, my time, I do not know
I could be gone
Or I could be home
A speech of such loss
Of words, of lust
It is lost, absent for good
A paperweight on your coffee table
The letters on my wall
I feel that to speak
I cannot, to you, anymore
Many more years from now
Has no meaning at all
For the moment, in my room
There are no more thoughts
For the day, it is over,
The evening will forever be

I would let you live in my skin,
for the eternity if you wish,
but you could never carry my sin,
under the burden you'd be squished.

I would let you wear my shoes,
for miles if you find it sweet,
but you could never handle the screws,
they are built of concrete.

i sat amongst a parking lot of wayward people
dreadlocks & hair dye
& anything else to look alive.
bright colours - making deals;
shake on it and pay later is the mantra of the night
i want my hands over my ears,
i do not belong here-- my life isnt as vivid or as wild
i am not falling off the empire state
no. i am not at that stage
did the ocean whisper its love to you?
is that why you are what you do?

the lights are brighter for this generation
a world of people raised, artificial and capitalistic
shouting their poetry at the stars across
long forgotten paths

they call you reckless. i call you the only friends i ever had
but neither of us know you like you do.
ive never breathed a sigh of relief like you have &
my eyes dont close like yours do --

how can anybody talk when they dont walk in your shoes?

The cup of coffee is still warm
With stains of red lipstick.
Drops of ink are still fresh,
Splattered on the pages
Of my diary which is now,
Just a reminder of the past.
Sometime past midnight it is,
Time for a new start.

the words that
leave your
mouth don't
die once they
hit the air:

they sink
into my head
and i carry them
there.

when you tell me I'm in love with all our friends
I know it's a joke and I laugh along, but really, it's true.
I can't help but love so many
five
ten
twelve faces
Girls are so beautiful and boys are so beautiful and all others are so beautiful
I don't love you any less, I don't love them any more, but sometimes it overflows, dripping down the sides of my form
cutting through negative space
I have always been the one to sit in the attic, always been the one to savour the cold, always been used to metallic rattles and the feeling of coughing once more before I can pull away from from the back of my throat
and sometimes when I'm surrounded
by beautiful people and their conditioner words,
it just glows

Sleeves of scars
and a garter of silver lines and burns
oh the hurt I've endured
Seated by the fire as a child
Lord knows I've had thoughts like this for a while
I'd dwell on the discretion I took
brooding over every hook that snagged my flesh
made a mess
of the little girl I never was
and they who shook me
pet me from the inside out
must have forgotten to what degree
their consumptive hands made me bleed
God how I wish they could see
every stain left with or without cause
was provoked by their nostalgic applause
but I don't even blame them
It was a conscious disease
perniciously eating
still chewing at me.