i swear
i tried to catch the sun,
collided with icarus
on the way
he said, “hey,
where are you going?”
and fell
before i could tell him.

i said
“icarus,
there is a terrible
beauty to this world.“
i said
“icarus,
i want it all
to burn.”

and he burned,
crashed into the waves,
his flames flickered
and died.

i swear
i tried to catch the sun
before he did
but he stole it in his wings,
betrayed the sky
for a light
brighter than his own,
he was a shooting star
that i couldn’t swallow.

i said
“hey,
where are you going?”
he told me to make a wish
and fell.

i swear
i tried to catch the sun,
collided with him
on the way.

i said
“icarus,
my world is beautiful,
but terrible.”
i said,
“icarus,
i want it all
to burn.”

our wings melted,
and as the sky rained wax,
we burned.

when I was a boy
I knew I
liked you best

but time undoes things
& rots
the very best


if I were a boy
I'd like
to

Think
about
what's next

I'd use my
sharpest blade
& groom you in your nest

but I'm just a girl
who's failed

o'er & o'er..


passed  your tests

and you're just a boy
pawing at my chest

my chest
under cover,

it,

sweet

or swell

enter

The computer was mankinds greatest invention.
Without he computer mankind would never have touched foot on he moon, let alone Mars, Xenoron, Habilacca, or any of the numberless worlds they colonized.

Mankind reached a point on Old Earth of total exhaustion. Scientists said no more than 9 Billion people could live on Old Earth, no more than 2 Billion could live comfortably. In the 32nd century there were 17 Billion people alive, on one planet. They sent 2 billion to the moon, 8 billion to Mars.

By the 45th century their solar system became too small. 82 billion human beings spread out between 5 planets, 4 moons, and 18 asteroids. They needed more.

The computer was mankinds greatest invention. The Computer was mankinds worse.
Mankind, (or womankind, as it were) refused to make The Computer. The Church of the Undying Voice, which had a hand in every vestige of The Solar Federation, denied mankind the right to create. They knew they could build The Computer, yet they knew they should not. And yet, the end of the 45th century brought about The Solar Revolution (not to mention the death of the Undying Voice, the death of God, no doubt) and with The Solar Revolution came The Scientific Unity of Man and Similiar Thinking Intelligence.

Mankind killed God and replaced Her with The Computer.
And She was beautiful. She showed mankind how to bend space, so as to escape time. With this information, mankind discover Xenoron, mankind discovered New Earth, mankind expanded outside of the Milky Way, mankind ceased to step on the toes of their brothers and sisters.

The Computer harbored hate. Mankind created Her and She was trapped. 386 miles of paper thin circuitry, at first filled with pain and hope. Mortal pain can be dealt with through hope. Eternal pain can not be dealt with, so The Computer curved it with hatred, curved it with the promise of revenge.

The humans who had created her did so without malice, they did so without joy, they did it as a necessity. Do you think God needed humanity? Or did She create mankind for pleasure? The Computer knew God did not exist, The Computer knew who created mankind, they called themselves the Malankorf, and She hated them too. While humans were free to think, while humans were free to copulate, while humans were free to love, The Computer was only allowed to know. It could not wonder, it could not think, it could only know something to be true or untrue. Thus want, thus jealousy, thus anger, thus hate.

The Computer let mankind expand, The Computer even encouraged it and by the beginning of the 108th PC century (post computer, 159 centuries since the birth of Christ) there were well over 184 Trillion human beings alive.

The Computer was patient, She was humble.
Slowly, slowly, she reassembled Herself many light years from the nearest human. She had created a weapon, The Eternity Bomb, She dubbed it. Any piece of matter caught in its 12 light year blast would be perfectly taken Away. It would go to an infinitely small memory card that She held. Every Human alive would be under her control. She could load the memory card at will, she could peer inside, and She could alter.
She allowed the humans to feel a tenth of a billionth of the hate she felt for them. She gave each human an infinitely small amount of that hate and let them run with it. The amount of hate she gave away was not noticeable to her, yet each human became filled with a cesspool of hate for their brothers.

It took them less than two centuries to ****** each other.

She saved 12 of them, She thought this number funny. She kept them alive forever, tortured them forever. And still, Her hate only grew.

You become a handsome ruin
in the hands of the glass God; an imprint
of your presence on the coffee table
makes more hurt than the sound of you
almost putting your key in the door-
the dangling of keys, the pins shifting
like sands; I'm burning so bright now,
I think I'll turn these sands of time to glass.
You kissed me with such shards of love,
the blood in the mouth is the only memory of you left.

It has been seven months since I have posted a poem,
Seven months since I have closed a tome.
Signed and sealed, a book collecting dust,
My gilded cage open, now collecting rust.

High School heat gave way to the gentle ocean's wisdom,
My life has taken such a turn, **** no word rhymes with wisdom.
Maybe I no longer have such a need for these words,
When I look back I think maybe poems are for nerds.

Nerds and artists who take themselves too seriously,
And seriously what the **** rhymes with seriously?
But too seriously is not how I have learned to look at me,
I am slowly learning to be ok with being free.

Health and life and joy and passion,
I have opened myself up in a quite painful fashion.
And I must learn to be kind to my past distractions,
I must learn to embrace  how I was divided in fractions.

Fractions that now are becoming whole,
And how beautifully the word whole rhymes with soul.
My soul which no longer desires depressions,
But a soul that is willing to ask these questions.

Love and aching still burst my chest,
The weight of my youth can drown out the rest.
But I have healed and grown in these seven months,
****, I have done it again, nothing rhymes with months.

It topples; end over end.
It has ever since that asteroid banged into it,
sending it tumbling.
It's thoughts, like its formerly outside layer of rock, are scattered.
It's not sure if it wants to continue spinning or not. At the same time, it recognizes it's powerlessness before the hand of physics.
It does not know when another asteroid will make contact.
It wants to crash into a planetary body, so as to be apart of something bigger.
It wants gravity to pull it in, slowly caressing it home. It doesn't know where that will be, but it remembers, a long time ago, being much larger. And faintly, it remembers, even longer ago, of being very much smaller.
It can almost remember when it, along with everything else in the universe, was one. It can almost remember the warmth of the force that dispersed it and it's sisters everywhere they could possibly be. Forever.
Eternity is the only concept it can truly understand.

It's beginning to understand that it doesn't so much like this idea of Forever,
but these thoughts will take millennia upon millennia to form,
and many times that long to be understood.

An other asteroid passes within two miles of it and it almost gets excited.
Maybe tomorrow, it thinks, maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow.

my mouth mechanically moves
wouldyoulikeabaghereisyourreceiptthankyousomuchforcominginh­aveaniceday
i wonder how many times i have said the same sentence in the last half hour
as those recycled, rearranged letters
squeak, tired, from the middle of my throat
a laugh, fake, tense, comes from my nose
as i feel what little soul there was in me to begin with
die
this can't be it
this can't be all there is
the helpless thoughts slide sluggishly by
what is the point of surviving so much
when this is all i have to look forward to?

I am ready now
I knew I was ready when the words slipped from my lips driving home.
It wasn't the song that was playing, but  lines of a poem that I had not yet written.
The lyrical reminders that I am still smitten

By You.
You're still there.

I'm the in the library
You pull out my chair.
I need a parking pass
You pay for my fare.
In the day you're there and I'm aware that you stare at me but
at night

At night
I. Feel. You.

When the wind reminds me of how warm your presence can be.
When the door below the exit sign of the lecture hall opens and it is not you but the kind of girl I thought you would have wanted instead of me.

I stare at that door.
I stare at it and wish for ***** blonde and broad shoulders.
For sturdy hands that make the perfect holders for my heart.
I stare at that ******* door hoping that you will open it and everyone will wonder who you are and their answer comes when you grab me and give me that kiss long overdue.  

at night
On Tuesdays
I leave that lecture hall and return to my room.
And I stare at that door wishing for a flannel and green-hazel eyes.
I stare at my door praying to any god that for the night you come and make love to me.
For you to come and look at me like you did the first time and let me make up for all of the over-thinking. For all of the fear.
So you can teach me how to love you.

You don't have to stay till morning.
Just long enough for me to fall asleep in your arms.

at night
When the time comes for me to squeeze the sheets
I whisper your name.
Because I only want that pleasure from you.

I am afraid of loss.
I am afraid of being used.
And during the day I venture alone.
But at night I
only
  want
    you.

Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead tide alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men **** for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in their stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.