I feel like dying.
I can’t stand people.
I need to destroy
something beautiful.

I don’t really want to explain what I mean.

Take it abstractly,
like a poem.

Take life abstractly,
like a poem.

Stray between the lines,
dig deeper
than you would if
it were a narrative piece.

I find myself in a novel.

Things are more straight forward if
I tell you exactly
what to see
to hear
to feel.

It was a cold and windy day at the beach.

I think we all need
life a bit mixed up.

The wind had cold teeth
rain still soft in my hair had
the ocean desperately handing me shells.

Cover it in poetry,
decorate with words.

Open your ****** eyes,
don’t be fooled by what
the narrator hands you.

There isn’t one author to your existence.

In this house
sticky thin floorboards
slinking from wall to wall.
Everything dripping down,
pictures taped,
a story told through
ticket stubs
and pushpins.

The amount of stuff
is astounding,
every piece exact,
writing an encyclopaedia.
Teal doors chipping,
holes at hand-height
with paw prints
adorning every corner.

Pattern the ice with
your collarbones.
Showers of lavender
hidden in your hiking boots.
Hang stamps from your doorframe,
the snow will melt someday.
The taste of words
bounced out of your mouth
last Sunday evening.
Shrugging off the sun
from the duck pond
to the sand
caught between your sock
and shoe.
I’ve been memorizing
deep breaths
and the way hair curls.
The keyboard knows your
v-neck and
the cocoa powder park.

Strong perfume can’t
be appreciated
under the milky way.
I fixed blue green eyes
on New Year’s,
one side of the
collared shirt turned in,
steam rolling hair and
too much straw.

Old shoes
filled with cinnamon
sit on 4:17pm
with an unmade bed
of sour green vertebrae.
The city at night,
a crescendo,
explodes in silence,
hot tea and warm mugs
tuning campfires
built from matches.
Thursday sunrises
balancing on wool sweaters
and the smell of fabric softener.
The early morning
hurricane over worn wood and
wet pavement
sounds of winter.
The snow’s just trying
to be human.

Looking back
At your black and white photograph
You were sweet
Like candy
Young and innocent
Funny, with hope left,
A half smile cracked on your face,
Always teasing,
Trying to fit in

It wrenches my heart
To see you that way
Because I miss him,
The boy you were then

It's painful to think what I'd
See in your face today,
Goonish smile,
Like a grotesque clown,
Eyes half-opened,
Mind half-awake,
Not quite enough anymore

Looking now
At your far-away eyes
I would see only half
Of the boy that used to be

you are smoke
that is stuck in my lungs
you make every breath shallow and weak
and when I breathe out
it's a sigh of relief that
I am still alive
you are poison
sitting in my stomach
making it churn about
making it flip around
and the worst part is how you
snuck right in without a warning
you are plaque
stuck in my arteries
weighing down my heart
pushing it to beat faster
pumping it harder to
push you out

you make me hot and cold
feverish and I can't catch a break
you make me manic
happy and sad, up & down
you make me ache
I'm hurting all over for you

I could fall over
you wouldn't even notice

A lifeless corpse I lay on the floor.
I shake with fear you might return.
Clothes once on my broken limbs,
lie ripped and tattered on the floor.
Blood runs down my face
a wound from being too loud.
"Shut up! Someone will here you!"
A scream cut short by a blow to the head.
Blurred vision.
In my happy place I pretend that you are my husband and you love me.
Your hot breathe down my spine.
Your hands clutching my innocence.
Holding it above my head.
You've won.
Hazy memories engraved into me forever.
You will always be a family member.
But I will always love you.
Daddy by day.
Monster by night.

I am sorry to bother you,
so please
                                                          ­                                  ignore these words
or don't.
Who am I
                                                                ­                      to tell you what to do?
Whatever you choose to do,
                                           know this poem has no greater cosmic meaning.
That was not its purpose.
If there is some deeper meaning,
                                                        ­                                      I'm unaware of it.
I'll leave it to you to speculate.

What I wish I had said, 
When it would have meant the most.
When we were lying there together.
So raw, so close.

If I would have just let my soul speak true, 
I wouldn't feel so terrible, 
Sleeping alone. 
I wanted to tell you,
The missing words in my mouth.
I fought and I fought,
But they just wouldn't come out.

For richer or for poor,
In sickness and in health.
You are the one.
Never anyone else.

I miss you already,
I want you even more.
These feelings are pressing,
Breaking me down to the core.

I love you. 
Oh, I love you, I do.
The missing I love you,
Way past due.
Passion deep and passion true,
My heart, my soul, 
Will be filled with you.

I laugh to drown out
the deafening yet eerie sadness
held within myself.

After carefully
stitching up the patient’s heart,
she produced feelings.

She preserves her horrors in her bones
every detail carelessly engraved into her structure
every bump along the way creating a signature braille of her history
a silent story told by the curvature in her body
a girl crying on the inside
wheels of fake smiles and emotions move her
she is a mere puppet to a life she cannot control
the scars are too deep
she is too broken
she cannot tell her story
silenced by horror
her bones narrate.