lost the fight, lost track of everything i liked
disassociation baby it just went up and spiked
blank slate of glass in a dying world like
anything i was, no longer identify or feel inside
all the stormy lining of my stomach coincide
hell of an appetite, teeth on a mighty bite
stored in the gut in the belly, not quite
tons of fire, spice - torched up it tasted so nice
still say it too much, still scared all too much,
if i get it in the stomach i run like a *****, hide and such
fear rots my belly like i feel it too much
it's always been thus, lost track for a bunch,quit writing me much
now i’m quitting every other habit
and serving you lunch

three minute samples
a baby girl, you’ll have her
****,know what's been
bothering me this whole time?
shoved myself away
a moment of crime
so easy to let go of the self
its like im not even mine
moments slip and fly
there's years of my life i can’t remember and why
really so asleep wishing death all the time
not really understanding death at all at the time
just a kid i was blind, it tore me inside
and ended up, well, nowhere in fact,
all of the moments in present reenact- imagine that

three minutes into something; forget,
once again to breathe- some other thought tore my eyes out
bore into yet another mindless pattern
to which i say, wholesome; that in my breath is contained,
effort & surrender, a goal at which to fling thyself
off every mountain to press the feet off (and jump)
wasn’t ever scared to turn the mouth off and jump
wasn’t ever any fear, that was my innocence and luck
if you fling yourself off from the mountain and jump, **** it
upwards spiral towards nothing

if i could break my arms out through my chest
resist the urge to break instead
and let my mind be calmed by breath
and let the shouting silenced then

i see the ocean come and go,
observe the water as it floats
up to my sight, into my head
the hands go limp, the fingers dead

the motions come, its all been set,
a circle starts and ends, but when?
a thought is not a thought it seems
but rampant fire, perpetual screams

a stain that chases where i go,
on to-wards a darkened road

the darkened road, a dark now past
always dark, it always casts
a shadow it seems i have become
a shadow it seems i always was

i took a walk and brought only my thoughts
to go along with the stalks of trees
a speck, barely seen, vision caught
a bird flies up unto a branch

what bliss inside me, as i see
the ants, an orange spider crawls
they move unbothered, unlike me
a leaf catches my eyes,  it falls

peace inside me, the sun filtered down
through the green, onto my skin
grey lepidoptera, too many to count
it brings a smile unto my chin

all the questions i could ask,
are then erased, when faced with thanks

eyes get glazed over, haze bittersweet clover
set ablaze, citrus days covered in the overflowing odor
feels like now i’m twenty seven years and six months older
my mind will never go back, it has to deal with the exposure

thought i’d hit rock bottom didn’t know you can go lower
am i more or less depressed than i was when i was sober
you keep asking what i think, man i don’t even know her
i don’t keep ******* in my mind, i toss ******* over the shoulder

i kick a boot into a face, the face of mediocre , in a dream I lose my teeth
all but my ******* molars, had to take the smoke into my lungs to get the
rats out of my belly, no way to erase the memories, thats facts I try to bury

beware for I am fearless, and therefore I am powerful!
i’m also neurotic and delusional, i fill the hours with the usual,
smoke sedate ,throw my head back ain’t it beautiful,
turn to stone i am immovable, glad it ain’t my ****** funeral
do i enjoy turning off this brain? its irrefutable

03.24.19

I.
   i could not stay awake not for another breath,
    what with you pulling air so close to mine,
thoughts persistent, visions relentless
       (to look around, to remember where you are)
do you know who you are (? )
  scoffing somewhere, removed from me
were their eyes to fall upon me
    she is omnipresent, all around me when i breathe-
              gone from here
  

none of this feels familiar,
      not the sheets not the shadows of the room,
     the lights flicked off and i feel-
      heat from your body over the moisture of mine
               (i recognize none of it )
vividly i vision the seams of buildings
edges of avenues, bordered in cars and trees
              bridges i crossed everyday; away
            ( anxious i self inflict, i gasp)


   days stretch on like where are the lines ?
   where are the spaces, from calendars to clockwork
saying when and how and who done it
          to number time, confine the time, throttle-
with the windows always dark,
      a blue sky in a frame on the kitchen wall,
      could belong absolutely anywhere
      and i recognize nothing, not the floor
      not the ceiling where i lay, you besides me
      all day and all night, i see distortion
       (strange to accept and hard to believe )

9:57 pm


II.

strength of something torn from here,
    paradoxical; gone and omnipresent
wrapped in this flesh of yours
    however absent/// longways away from here

    no word of yours or mine could be said
without grain from some other
        fruitful tree;  i see orchards !
they litter the sky
    so much of this life is inescapable

10:09 pm


III.

were i to close my eyes i still perceive movement
    limning of you behind my eyelids, aura
i catch the ghosts of wrinkles, were i to open my eyes
       would be your arms;             ( i need not open them)
     i know by some imbued reflex that
we are kissing, i see it in my head between the ears
      they melt together, i feel it in the stomach
     not on the tongue where you are making a home
nothing exists but the place where we
           reunite like a bird catching a fish in midair

       movement once more, and know somehow
   no semblance of time, no notion of time
then it is your tongue and your tongue only
   which connects me to this earth for i am smoke;
                  liquid, i am nothing else

i am music then, somehow and by some miracle
  you sing somewhere as well,
    might i be the wind, only hyper aware of the way
i greet your body,
    skin vaporized, my fingers pulverized
i settle like dust all around you
i could be anywhere

       nothing but the fragment
of space/// time where you are here with me
         a body that is separate and somehow
        infinitely harmonized to mine

10:25 pm

IV.

                         i see who i was a month ago,
                                                            ­      unrecognizable!
      the path from here to there
                                     has been erased like wind over sand

      a tie has been severed,
                                          to the other life,
                                    she might as well have been killed
                           on a commute somewhere
11:48 pm


V.

at last, words slither out like animals
   a burrow, a hole in the ground
   they were buried, at last you dig graves, collect skeletons
   (it is something you do at night)

one does wonder, what good is reached by
     accumulating laughter; i have never laughed
              as i do now

11:51 pm

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

03.­25.19

VI.
  
           static whistles in the background
       of an intermediate place
                a place with no name

         i think perhaps i am a furred leaf
                      for i grow roots around water ///

a rocket ship sends a message back where it came from
a planet formerly known as HOME:
[i am safe somewhere]

12:09 pm


03.28.219

VII.  

i clean my mouth of it,
i purify that which has so clouded,
   depths of the murky mind
i wash my hands of it
i dissipate fear
i eradicate guilt
i bathe my toes in a river
     un-tethered from all
which has so consumed me
i breath into lungs
now drowned into action
a pull from my chest, over and onto
heaving gasps of fresh air-

somewhere between our hands,
dust settled:
     ( i let it gather)
truth speaks discomfort,
i **** paralysis!
    fight or flight,
the third instinct, to freeze
may we be rid of it
may the mind be free from all
idle thought and hollow circuits

(a yellow bird flies onward,
a prayer... )

1:12 pm

tonight's the night, i learn to fly
     in dreamful sleep, awake - alive
   with purpose set, in my mind's eye
      in little death, i taste the sky

              pictures float, they hurry by
            to barely grasp, a whisper sighs
           my breath is mine, but "what" am "i"?
                      the universe, it dreamed up sight

         tonight: tonight, again i die
       the smaller death, seems death is shy
            i breathe in deep, resistance dry
            i hurry then, to taste the sky

don't ask me how i am i don't like that ******* question
you wouldn't know what to answer, you'll think its an aggression
i know its easier to just say fine, i never learn my lesson
if i could skip out on all the small talk, that would be a ******* blessing

seventeen to eighteen weeks, i slip again into depression
stupid hard to even talk about, too hard to even mention
watch me sleep for thirty weeks, in an attempt to kick the tension
once again all in my head, a maze made of perception

staring into the ******* mirror, and i don't see my own reflection
these fractals all over my face, span out into sucession
if we go back to two years ago, would you call that a regression?
he asked for *** then ghosted, i lost all of my affection

was that last line a confession? i was supposed to keep discretion
what with him having a girl for three years at the time of the "exception"
phoning me after months of silence to set up a ******* session
maniac depressed and taking pills, does that worsen the transgression

did you know i wouldn't refuse and in fact wouldn't even question?
well they seem  pretty happy now, they can have my ******* blessing
ask for *** then ghost me, after twelve years of ******* friendship
everything is dancing and i dip my ******* pen tip

i don't have much of an incentive, to be ******* inauthentic
mostly i'm just trynna cope, so i segment it and dissect it
to trace over the wound, twelve years of something friendship
all things must end and die, i don't presume to prevent it

existence goes from point a to point be,
point a is a darkness, and vast like the sea,
we manifest in the darkness, a frantic plea,
the moment i died i was glad to be me
     surrender last breath, no resistance, no pause
happy to go because i was happy i was
whatever i was, collapses, four walls
i howl in the dark it tears from my jaw
    
     collapse on the ground from euphoria, pain
gawk from outside of myself, dissect my own brain
what does this body, this vessel contain
drift aimless in absurdity, i die death by rain
     this water wont let me breathe, breath is inane
faces with the eyes rolled back, their laughter insane
i'll tell you what the joke is now, gather myself up and explain
108 billion *******, we all live and die the same

      and i get too anxious at night, i feel the blood neck in my veins
feeling like a ******* ball of meat, an animal again
i'm an animal again, frantic, erratic inhumane
if i let the fear go to my belly, it will give me a migraine
      in the empty room, i let go, all emotion is mundane
just chemicals in my brain, just compounds all in vain
if an answer could be found, inward bound and arcane
no trite ****, acknowledge all and every is profane
    
       comfort is a falsehood, a funny jest to entertain
existence is disquieting, a real ***** to explain
language is a funny string, language is a cage
language is my favorite toy, keeps my lil brain engaged
       i like to move furniture around, i like to rearrange
stare back into the mirror, watch my skin drip, i have aged
it frightened me so much i learned to laugh right to my face
i order my books by color, i make myself laugh on a page
    
     the only thing that matters as i dream away the days
the blunt force of my human will,the impulse to create
     it fills me with an unknown light, it filters all my rage
organize and reassemble, acceptance, no afraid
am i letting all control go is this ***** breaking the chain
least until i wake again, step outside another cave

i take drugs i don't understand
i smoke cigarettes, a bottle in hand
i say i need another and still i have the nerve
to say i have command, to say i am alert
statesmen , officeholders, yell to run and vote
what the **** does that word mean, and what the **** is a choice?
      the pocket screen is screaming, this one i chose to hold
a square box in my little hands, might as well call it rope
let me tie it around my neck, let me pour in all my hopes
onto the little screen, ego machine, sweet stasis as i choke
      
         inercia grips inside of me, we left the trees so long ago
now i get up every morning, to make richer all the rich folk
am i crying or am i laughing and i don't get this ******* joke
why are so little of us bothered, why does no one else revolt
we float on like dead ******* fish, taking junk taking a smoke
why do we take for granted, this incoherent hoax?
brown red black men scratch into the ground, a white man sells us Coke
everywhere a boot to lick, a fist to kiss and to uphold
       authority needs me blind and dumb, obedient cattle is controlled
i don't know no ******* answers, i don't know no ******* code
something punched me in a ******* dream, i saw his face as i awoke,
and i screamed as i awoke, and i gasped as i awoke-

       my ******* dripped and i was old, it was a glory to behold
worms eating my fleshy face i say goodbye as i unfold,
felt my bones so real inside myself, i began to decompose
and all my ugly was exposed, but it wasnt ugly anymore,
and nothing mattered anymore, i phone my mom her voice is gold,
      i saw her face it was my own, and i felt joy in my little bones
now my death has been postponed, a thousand times, but it will come
( my mind will then explode, all my memories implode)
all life is just a moan on an incoherent road,
that leads no where i suppose, but i still composed this ode
i'm pretty good or so im told, i believe that, i am sold

         me, a bag of organs in a mould, a body i dont even own
information crams my throat, into my body to my bones
i take drugs i dont ******* understand, i swallow tv screens on command
i take money in my hand i feign control, i misunderstand

buried beneath the surface, something ugly to arise
     a demon yelling ******* at the someone they despise
this demon and this person, they share a pair of eyes
           if they look down all the see is, skinny mirrored thighs

all too soon i feel like, anger will arise,
      thrice the average wingspan, a vulture takes the skies
this vulture has no allies, he bites as a reply,
         all he feels is panic, steals my face for a disguise,


          a dog somewhere is barking, teeth dripping as he cries
      the growl he hears inside him, he cannot recognize,
  halfway catatonic, halfway energized,
his breathing has no breath in it, now he´s paralyzed

those blackened hands are shaking, those blackened hands are mine
          he claws away for hours, the sands are grains of time
   each second on the fingers dissolve to the sublime
    the blackened hands are shaking, the blackened hands resign



over and over a cycle, eight hours turn to nine,
         i walk and talk in loops i met the devil, ***** got me to sign
  might get to spit in his face and slavery decline
           no god and **** all master, i attempt to kick the vice

     for every moment i cling stuck, i see fufilled a certain price
to visualize and execute, no ****** rolls no dice
         no way this dog can claim back no otiose spent nights
              claiming the ones to come however many materialize


  old habits are a **** to ****, unified and interwined
       a tangle to get out of, gets hard to breathe or try
      i walk and talk in circles, i dont want to go outside
              watch time burn up ignited, too fast to say goodbye

       so shameful i regret it, unavoidable to cry
    impossible to tell apart, dont try calling, wont reply
     a shard of glass refusing to drip, bleeding tear duct turning wry
i saw a demon in the rearview, now he eats my ******* eyes



over and over a cycle, eight hours turn to nine,
        talking in loops to the devil, ***** got me to sign
      i count the tips of fingers, they add up, more than five,
  each stinging with a shameful tint, all ringing sharp like knives


do you  know how fear behaves, do you know where that ***** hides
           risen from deep down center front, corrodes from the inside
      obscure greyness misty haze, the eye is the ***** of sight
            the tongue is for the tasting bits, the brain is made for flight

so has been the comfort of the dial tone
where i hang my hopes as if i were
a body in the grass somewhere golden
i hang them on your voice as if your voice
       was something solid;
i am tethering everything to your voice,
with stubborn determination
your smile so aphrodisiac, the edges of your eyes
       speaking volumes
suggesting close intimacy so claustrophobic
to unite; the reocurrence is vespertine
and i ache! - for you are missing, missing,
gone from here,
     where you should be
and to anticipation i owe an ode for there is much
to be said about yearning, yearning
growing desperately impatient for the edge
of your neck somewhere close to my mouth
        where i so need it
to sing an ode to your body; electric in impulse
to spill, every yellow secret of mine, every shade
of blue and red and golden; yours to keep forever

to dreams inside that mind of yours
so impossibly aligned
still when you speak of us together i ;
i seem to lose my mind-
once silent, then spoken, now sacred
we trace these coloured lines
of space and time in which
we now are intertwined

to dreams inside these minds of ours
that we gather in our heads
to go wherever you may be
and call that home instead;
from stormy shores to mountain tops
to wake up in your bed
to draw a line from yours to mine
a single golden thread

to dreams inside that mind of yours
to these visions that i share
i can see exactly what you mean
when you talk of home somewhere

once more, it seems;
so soft i have become
and the day be that i hold you
cannot come soon enough

and so impatience swallows me
i cannot whisk away
this bittersweet frustration
eats at me everyday

let time, warped and troublesome
let it hurry by;
that i may hold my gaze in yours
and trace your lips with mine

i go in too far and too loud;
i see the train of thought
it could take me
where no one else could go
further and further where they make more sense
the last final logical conclusion and yet
so far in from a distance i am a madman
too far in to comprehend

oh were i to have ventured further
if i had followed through with every
spasm of great and holy ideas,
what pleasures unknown
called them up had it sorted; it was 2 or 3 a.m

i don't know what i was thinking
i mean i was thinking i needed to be touched
i was thinking i was needing to be ******
i mean i was thinking i needed to be reduced
to air, to be made to be nothing, i am nothing
its always 2 or 3 a.m. i am made to want to feel nothing
went to bed in a cloud of sheltered, painless oblivion

i go too far and too loud and it is
never nearly enough; I See The
Liquid Sphere Waltz, oh i must
tread so carefully and lightly
for i am always on the verge of something
i will not be able to redeem

i care about no one
i care about me
that i may slip into something
i cannot relinquish

from my vast dreams i am awoken and tongue tied;  
that in ten years my teeth fall out and i am left with nothing
but bleeding gums in my mouth, dancing to pictures
in my head; no sense of ground to hold on to
texture of ****** plumage, broken wax and shattered bones

you don't have to believe yourself christ incarnate;
water dripping from your lung like proof he is
god's son made of flesh; "I Am thirsty", he said
there is much less to be said about delusion;

i am icarus myself not for flying towards the sun
out the back of an eighteen story building thinking
i can fly fly fly land so softly by the grace of god
i am icarus myself not for feeling some other soul
inside me; he shared a birthday with jim morrison
thought that was him inside him, i am brought to belief-

i myself thought the world could end if only i willed it;
that you were made to love me if only i willed it;
that i could make you love me if only i willed it;
that the world was made for me and me and
my journey which lead always and inevitably
into your arms

i meditate on these past two years
i am made to see things backwards
through a lens. i could not grasp
time as it flew by me but i am dexterous
now. i am versed in pain; slipping scriptures
from my tongue like an amphibious creature
i regurgitate; water and blood from my stomach
i sort out the stones in my gullet
i make sense of time even though time
has slipped besides me and left me so
daunting and haunted i am
trapped in a black void i can think
of nothing else-

i contemplate the last six months i am
so dedicated to making sense of the inexpressible
the incomprehensible , unfathomable, impenetrable
i stay awake until my eyes are red and powder,
i jot down these words and i call that survival
might i trace my steps back into the snow where
the wolves in the night never find me;
unbeknownst i drip blood
i fall into the void where there exists no such thing
as a whisper; for things are either never uttered
or yelled upon the mountain, there is no in between
and i cannot alter my eyes
that they might see as they once did

sapiens, sapiens,
unable to comprehend stimuli you are
so blind. i am
so bored with you
you simple man

miniscule fruit fly:
the thought of comformity a nuisance
the cul-de-sac does not tempt me
you can lick the soles of my feet from
where you are at

you might think i, being endowed by
drastic opinions and drastic moods,
would be keen to take drastic measures but alas;
the most persistent thought is apathy

so if it please you then so be it;
there is no room in my mind
for chasing after
ants and flies the size of bread crumbs

and that you may read this gives me no
thought of joy or pain or anything;
if the crown fits then so be it
that it might sit upon your head
and i a jester in perpetual, nihilist laughter

i so stoic;
moved only by the grace of god
almighty and willing/
by my own similar, fiery infrequent
whims and desires

i cannot decide if i am the river
so run with emotion
if i am the marble goddess
devoid of all feeling

but i am always only ever
unapologetically myself
a tesla coil of a woman

light refracts on my eyes but i cannot
seem to see any color
i look at life through the
loosely screened eyes of a dog
unable to express what i see
i bark at stark darkness
i whimper into the bitter
heartless unknown
i am nothing but a vessel holding
numbered breaths. with trouble owning
my hands over any sort of control

i will eventually
go beyond the outer reaches
run out of reasons
to stick around
like an ocean over filled one drop
too many i will spill one seed to many
i will rip and my brain will tear
onto the floor i can see it now. i can see
the blood

i wade in so heavy and i cannot swim
i did not fight back i let him take me
this time where no one can reach for me
where i cannot bring myself up
for my arms are made of something
weak and spineless
who said kindness
even exists, i die
where no one can help me
i saw it in my father's eyes
like a prophecy

you are all mouth and i cannot
see beyond my hands which seem
to shake so heavily they might
fall off and run away
my nose and ears fell off my face
so long ago and i cannot listen
or cannot smell danger,i crawl
an animal yearns for relief of pain

nothing else makes as much
sense as disappearing
when you want to die nothing else
seems to matter
its the first thought every morning
and when i go to bed  
when you want to die nothing much matters
and every escape route leads to death

it's 3:00 a.m it seems inevitable
i hurry to meet the maker
it won't be long now i don't have much time
i tidy the house i sweep my books that
no gram of dust ever befall them
my beloved stacks of paper
i am waiting for a visitor,
impatiently
that he might lead me nowhere-
into nothingness

even i at times do wonder so
if i am the one at fault
still i see the lines we drew though
i know i played my part

so heavy is the weight i feel
as i feel you go
life goes on and takes those things
someday i'll call it growth

i cannot seem to mend this
no matter how i try
the closer i seem to get to you
the more you say goodbye

what strength of mine is left when you
are further all the time?

i; megalomaniac
my ego so wrung with pride
my psyche, broken psyche
swallowed by hell- but still mine
a string of hazy days, my days
shattered yet sublime

convinced god has touched me
with his forefingers on my forehead
bestowed some sort of end to me
an aim to follow till i'm dead
filled my eyes with dreams
set greatness on my head

Olympus holds my dreams for me
in great heights, in silver light
but i a river Styx, am drowned
i cannot see wrong from right
so every dream of mine is pain
and never seems quite right

i, great egotist
delusion gone so far
that i would think myself a giantess
eighty eight hundred feet tall
i yell upon the mountain
tears streaming as i bawl
high up in the clouds i be
thus longer is my fall

i slip away from you
therefore i think i must be made of water
it is common for the dying man to turn to god
it happens often

lungs inside jars fill up with water
i am forced to breathe -     inexblicably!
i take a breath i am forced to open my eyes
a cardboard box, a matress with no stains on it
blue plastic, the edge of something sharp in the
corner of a room, i had forgotten
teeth marks on wood, i touch the ceiling
mold grows on the window pane; a threat
dust comes in through the screen door in
a living room sheathed in carpet

in the pool i breathed in too heavy the back of my
mouth stings and tastes so heavy of chloride
    i take a ride in a car, his car, your car, some car
somewhere i cannot remember
            i am
         so forgetful
             i am
        so good at remembering and you would think i
memorized everything, knees on padded benches
smell of incense i beg god not to tear you from
my arms i beg god i beg god yes he listened
i let go on my own and then i stopped praying

the dying man thinks of water,
it happens often
it is common for the drowning man to think of God

        and i  have seen him beg he begs he begs so hard
he shakes on the ground his organs on the outside
of his body, he wears a mask to work, to school
to church,  a mask with small holes for the eyes
he whistles "whoooooooo" who? Who? WHO?
he gets no answer from the mirror so then he turns
to ask god and god grabs his big book and
lets it fall on his head and he says now can
you hear me? the man nods, he feels pain
yes daddy, i see, i see it so clear now
papa, he cries, his head all ******
god is satisfied he says yes my child
the clouds soak up his blood like big cotton *****

         he takes off the mask he whistles
who? Who? WHO?
            he gets an answer

i slip away from you
therefore i think i must be made of water
it is common for the dying man to turn to God
it happens often

I know you don't like this long format
I know you like it better when I rhyme
but just listen this once
hope you like it this time

I was sending you this poem
I wrote two weeks ago
I started typing out this message
thought I'd let you know

I know I'm so difficult sometimes
I know I get you worried
but I'm really glad you're around
this poem's really hurried

thanks for reading everything
i throw into the abyss
for loving all my good parts
and tolerating the bad bits

I'm glad you always listen
I love having you around
isn't that funny how I trust you
more than anyone right now

never really talk about what keeps me up at night
and when i do i repeat to myself it's alright
its funny to think when people see me they say
how talented and special and great all the way
i say i have work and that there's plenty to do
that's real i'm so busy but really it's only half true
the other half is this; if only you knew
if they peeled at my skin how they'd find only blue
this close to the end, this close to the crash
the color of smoke and the color of ash
it's crazy to think i'm okay when they ask
the enthusiastic smile on my face is not just a mask
and it's true when i say it it's not just a lie
one moment i'm laughing next second i cry

and it seems everyone's got the answers to everything i feel
good then i'll try this one, see if i get now fixed for real
get a new hobby, stop listening to all the sad songs
stop bathing in my sadness its unhealthy and wrong
stop being so stubborn stop laughing so loud
stop being outspoken and crazy and proud
i'm half a genius, it's half a weakness
one part too heavy the other is bleakness
and i never never stay quiet about any secrets
i spill it all without thought then i pick up the pieces
needless to say i'm a big fan of realness
ask and i'll tell you who's got me so sleepless
i can't help it i swear i want to get better
i don't want this to go on another second, not ever

its so scary to say things out loud and in words
set them all free from the cage like some birds
admit about anger, self inflicted, suicidal thoughts
panic attacks and self loathing, my stomach is knots
words linger empty i see it in their face
it scares them but not enough to step in my place
when the gloom and the fear i carry around in my belly
is scarier than you think, it gets so **** heavy
they all say they get it i'm skeptical at best
not enough to say it out loud or get it off my chest
no idea who to turn to or with who to talk
rather keep it in, say nothing, and safe with a lock
still I reach for everyone cause i'm lonely its crazy
and the days go by so clouded and broken and hazy

its funny to think on the outside it seems i do fine
only melancholy, if they knew i was running out of time
writing all these poems repeating myself over and over
i write it all down cause i'm looking for closure
throwing out these papers as i fall into the abyss
scratch with the nails my only pleasure is this
how does no one notice i'm this close to going?
am i really so good at hiding is it really not showing?
pastel pink on the outside that's all that they know
but it's getting dark in here and everyday its so cold
i hide myself somewhere i can feel i'm alone

I don't think I'm heading anywhere good at all
I whisper while I'm crying I say the words so small
so scared now so scared now I say as I crawl
its been seven weeks now I really thought that you'd call
now I'm breathing so heavy and flying so fast
if this goes on any further I don't think I will last
now my thoughts here are blurring I can't remember what I said
but I remember how I banged my fists against my head
what I really wanted was to smash my head on the wall
see what would drip open is there anything there at all?
feeling like humpty dumpty with all the kings horses and men
won't put me back together either the only question is WHEN
i've developed a chronic headache it hurts so much to think
and I'm sorta craving sugar or coal or maybe a drink
that could intoxicate me and destroy me and turn me to dust
fix all the sharp angles and feed into my lust
get ****** now by three men or fifteen or twenty
I don't care now I know it'd feel good that'd be plenty
and if they use me and hurt me and leave me to die
it'd make no difference, thats even better in my mind
wait now I think I'm getting better, I have the world at my feet
the colors God made the universe with are so sweet
and it's in my hands now in fact it drips off of my fingers
I think I see his vision in my mind now, it lingers
driving me forward and faster towards the burning red
wait go back it's tomorrow and now I can't get out of bed
supposed to see you tonight, guess what I'll do instead?
sit there hardly breathing don't worry you go on ahead
it's fine though its sadness it's healthy and real
it's really quite normal to feel how I feel
wait again it's midnight I think I wade in too heavy
I think I know this place I think I've been here already
now I'm thinking of dying and I'm thinking of why
I haven't done it already I think this time I'll try
my skin is so tight around my body I want to get out
God left me no plan it's all abandonment and doubt
but actually I think I'm strong enough in fact
to get it together and clean up my act
there's this house in my dreams, a home I want to build
there's no stopping me actually cause I'm really so skilled
can't believe I could ever really want to do myself in
in fact I have so much to live for, it'd really be a sin
to end my life and throw away all this talent
not a single person alive like me on this planet
its not even lonely its not scary at all
wait I just remembered its been another week where's your call
are you doing alright? cause I'm loosing my head
my brain drips out of my eyes onto the bedspread

towards the sound of your voice I walk with blind eyes
   full of delusion and senseless and desper-ate cries

i lose hope every day and it's not all your fault
for i lose hope in it all the miser-y does not halt

and yet it still hurts me yes it is true
for you to be so far away from me,
for me to miss you

at a distance immeasurable I see you once more
with eye-opening clarity and still - I reach for-
your hand at the edge of the room on the door
from where I watch you leave as I lay on the floor

from a distance that I cannot breach with my hands
I cultivate fear as if - I was sowing the lands
seeds of trust, seeds of love I flung into the air
with sweat on my brow I reap only despair

at a space no longer measured in years or in distance
only the constant inconvenience of my persistent persistence
no longer joy for you and only a burden
you may say what you like but of this I am certain-

I reach for a friend from my hole in the ground
from the voice of my friend I hear absolutely no sound
at a distance immeasurable I see you walk past
from where I cannot reach you,  from where I die at long last

i gaze at the heavenly bodies at night
as i curse god in his holy throne and his light
for it is in his will that he has made me so
so vastly/ so utterly/ so pain-fully alone

what good does it do to shake with the fists
at the sky; at the sea, at the trees, what bliss
would come from lamenting the way that it is
what good would it do to curse the abyss-

-that has settled and nestled and made in my heart
a pit made of stone as a home and a hearth
with the nails and the fingers as i scratch and i claw
i try to bring myself up from the earth with such awe-

at myself and the god i have learn-ed to love
with his loving gaze as he stares from above
which one of us has more cruelty i do not know
him for planting the seed in me or i for letting it grow?

would it be fair to say you only ever come
crying to me when someone else turns you
down and that’s the only time you feel like
you  need  me / / /  that’s  it  though , you
know  I’d never  not  be  there to make you
feel like someone somewhere could maybe
love you/// would it be fair to say that it’s
easy   having   me   around  to  pick  up  the
pieces when someone else ***** you up but
when  it’s  the  other  way  around you can’t
even be bothered to listen because you have
other priorities / / / you never really value
anything  you say you do but when it comes
down   to  it ...

I shall lock away what's left of me
yes! even I can grow tired
you know I have no name in this
still I throw my hands unto the fire

still I regret even speaking this
I am rotting- loathing from inside
so you will go ahead with yours
I will see whats left of mine

I shall lock away what's left of me
leave you free to go
I washed your feet, you wash your hands
and I am left alone-

if we make it to December
and I'm still here
be surprised I stuck around
and didn't disappear
be surprised that I found
some other reason to endear
cause in the dark it's cold
and I'm frozen with fear
(death has my ear
death has my ear)
pray for his relief
hope this time it's for real
has me dreaming of heaven
has me feeling it near
I got this feeling his embrace
would make it all clear
if I can forget for a second
that I'm somebody's daughter
then I'd gladly go quick
and go quick as a martyr
And if I don't end it all
before the year is over
consider it a victory;
another badge on my shoulder
maybe January won't come and go
and leave me much colder
always hated New Year’s Eve,
left me feeling much older
one part nostalgia,
all the phone calls
two parts petty,
not getting any;
not getting any at all
it's funny it's funny
and I'm actually laughing
the fact that I'm jealous
of all that *** that you’re having
if you saw me weeping last Tuesday
I didn’t have a cold
I was throwing up
and matter of fact
I might have thrown up
cause I saw your face
and all I could think of was her
cause what I saw in your face
made me feel like a blur
made me feel like I'm useless
and I'm useless to you
******* place was flooded,
made me sick to my stomach
the way we go through life
walking acting cold blooded
got me feeling disgusted,
got me growing berserk
if it isn't home or school,
or my reflection, it's work
and it's crazy how looking
at that one girl can hurt
it's crazy how the fake friends
seem to pile up like dirt
and it's trash and it's corpses
and it's venom at best
the fact I'm still here
isn't making me feel blessed
**** place full of people,
**** smiles, ****, it's evil
and my attempts at pursuit
are pathetic and feeble
the crowd's optimism is lethal,
stick both eyes with a needle
and pray to heaven
and the angels
that I won't ever see you
I’d fill an ocean with all of
the loathing I'm feeling right now
self-loathing got me wondering
if I'll work through it somehow
I'll tell you about the crying,
but I'm willing to bet
bet you know how it gets,
bet you know all the rest
these twenty years of age
on my chest and my breast
pretty much feel like I'm dying;
pretty much feel like I'm dead

when you were a baby
I gave you a name
called you "hope"
****** dog

I do things for you
that you can't do for yourself
in return you lick my face
when I tell you sit you obey

no words in our arrangement
no room for misunderstanding
you understand tension
sensitive beast

in ten odd years or so
you will be gone
you will be a ghost
and I will miss you so much

your warm body
my brown baby
****** doggo
a friend and a brother

I see you with clouded
grey nihilistic eyes
through a thick curtain
of smoke and years
it seems a little sad sometimes
if I think too hard about it
like how I've never called anyone "dad"
I never thought that was tragic
it seems like a heavy dead word
no face and no voice to go along
devoid of meaning
save for a foggy word
stranger

as I'm writing this
I try very hard to stand
in your place on this earth
realizing I don't know you at all
it’s been said my little sister
has your laugh and your smile
but I can't even remember
what you look like
what your voice is like
I never even realized I missed out
on anything at all
I had two mothers and one father
none of them were you

I don't wish I knew you
yet somehow I wish you knew me
as if it would change anything
or make you feel shame
with only my face
fifteen years in my eyes
that my mother carried alone
on her shoulders
as if I weighed nothing

maybe I'd tell you about
all you missed out on
but it'd be the same thing
as going up to any man on the street
telling him he missed out on
seeing me grow up
he'd have no reason to feel guilt
but I think you might …

you'll be gone one day
I will stand on the fresh dirt
a grey tombstone with your name
which is also my name
I wonder if you'll seem
less dead or more dead
than how dead you seem now

you've been gone for years
in fact, you were never there
which is why I don't miss you
in fact, sometimes I think leaving
or rather letting us go
was the only good thing you did
you left the archive in my head
with your name on it
empty
but even in your absence
an echo of what should have been

I do have to admit
the silence downstairs
is both peace and loneliness
I stare into the void
with milky white eyes
as I think about the things
I lost before I had
to let go
of what is already lost
and ungrasp with no fear
to long for no ghost
who might have corrupted
the very essence of my soul
but even in your absence
a stain;
whose name is but an empty shell
a word scribbled and scratched
on a cardboard box
in the back of my head
the mere shadow of a man
who has written this poem
along with me

whenever they gave awards at school
iwas always so happy to come home
and give you the white piece of paper
that read "GOLD HONORS"
i think you even used to
put it on the fridge for a while
back then all i wanted to be
was a writer
i thought people would think
it was silly
but it stuck with me

when i´d wake up you'd always have
waffles and a banana milkshake
on the table for my breakfast
i was younger than ten
but now i realize what it meant
to wake up earlier than everyone else
and make food for each
of your little chickens

we had two red cars:
one for each of you
abuelo kept his car so clean
and always smelled so clean
he’d buy flowers
for the women on their birthdays
it was a grand gesture
i understand more than ever
now that no one gives me flowers

there's this thing you used to say, Abue
about each and every one of us
how you loved us
the way you loved your fingers
each one so different
some shorter some longer
a lot of the things you say
they stick to my head
but i understood then
and i understand now
you can love a lot of different people
in a lot of different ways

it gets a little cold now
i know things are a little sad now
with no thanksgiving dinner
or christmas and midnight
with cheese and wine
it'd be so much better now i´m older
i understand things a little bit more
like how precious a warm meal is
and how things are always better
when you're surrounded
by family and warmth

the last time we saw each other
you let me read The Pigman
and we watched Persépolis together
i cry a little each time at the end
when the grandma lets the jasmine
fall in slow motion from her breast
it's the sort of thing grandmothers do
that make you feel so warm inside
like the scars from your C section
i always thought were so beautiful

it's been years since i saw you
my mom woke me up early that day
to pick you up at the airport
it was supposed to be a surprise
but I had this feeling something was up
i couldn't believe it when i saw you
my grandparents walking towards me
and i was so happy to hug you
you smell like a mother
i don't know what it means
but it's like being in the arms of someone
you know has always loved you
and knows just who you are

I used to be from California 
and did as the romans did 
used to stick my head out the window 
in the afternoon listening 
to music my grandparents
taught me how to love 
with a four o' clock sun 
on my skinny legs in the car 
but the sun was never too hot
on the youth of my skin
sticky jacaranda blossoms 
used to stick to the soles
of my shoes
like hope used to
stick to my eyelids
and I dreamt of one day 
becoming a giant 

used to live in California 
and I fed my head 
with books and words 
fed my soul
filled my whole world
with dreams and friends
I loved a boy
as only children do 
we spoke the same language 
read the same books
laughed at the same jokes
but we mostly did a lot of 
passing notes
talking on the phone

I had to leave California 
when I didn't know what leaving meant 
when I thought maybe
nothing would change
the sky changed 
the language changed 
and the people changed 
let go of some dreams 
then drew up new ones 
and I grew to love 
learned to love
a place I hated 
for being so **** far away 
from where I wanted to be
but mostly 
the people I wanted to be with

I still say I grew up in California
I name it home like a distant constellation 
hope I can get on a space craft one day 
land in a place that seems as far as Mars
and ride home in my grandparent's van
to a house I know no longer exists 
have the same golden sun on my face 
that lit up my childhood
hear the music on the radio 
like driving somewhere where you know
you'll be safe and warm

he lives in California
and he still asks me 
when I'll come home and I want to say 
that I'll be at his house in ten minutes
or that he can pick me up at three
but I learned to love him deeply
we measure it in years and miles
and regret no pain

I can't put my life in a jar and label it
from neither here nor there
now I speak no language
now I know no home 
save for this distant star
I continue chasing

ya te guardé en un lugar seguro 
en los bolsillos junto a monedas 
en los pies, no es metáfora 
se cuando estás cerca
lo saben mis pupilas 
me delatan, se dilatan 
al encontrarse con la imágen tuya
con las manos nos entendemos
nos saludamos de lejos

-Hey 
-Hey
-¿Estás bien? 
-Aha 
(No estaba bien) 
-¿A dónde van? 
-A comprar dulces
-¿Quieres un tambor? 
-Okay 
- Tengo que irme, tengo clase. 
  Mi maestro se parece a Milhouse

Al despedirnos, 
me abrazas como si supieras 
que algo se está deshaciendo 
como una bola de estambre en mi interior
se hace pedazos al ritmo del reloj 
hay agua en algún lugar cálido de tus ojos
me quedo quieta para no arruinarlo 
y dejar que se arruine solo 
es una causa perdida 
esto de sentir 
he decidido regalarte 
otro pedazo de papel
ésta vez con tinta negra y palabras mías
la vez pasada te dibuje con el sol en los ojos
una ofrenda a la nébula de tus mejillas
que tanto me gusta
que veas cuanto me gustas
y que es una causa perdida
esto de escribir
no iré a la escuela mañana 
es miercoles, 
el peor día de la semana 
ombligo odioso 
me da miedo entregarte esto 

Los dias, los meses 
copias fotoestáticas 
deja te describo un jueves
que es como todos los jueves
mes tras mes
días malos 
independientes a ti 
implícitos en ti
y tu mirada
cuando hablamos y me siento contenta
cuando te veo y me siento peor
porque es una causa perdida 
esto de existir
el otro día había música
y supe por alguna razón 
que iba a voltear y estarías ahi 
y sí estabas ahí
de hecho estabas ahí
como si me esperaras 
aunque se que no me esperabas 

al despedirnos 
me das un beso de esos que son al aire
que se dan a nadie 
se cae al suelo sin recibirse 
al rozar mi mejilla con tu barba

qué bónito es estar viva
estar joven y estar viva 
qué bónito está el cielo
cubierto de nubes grises
transparentes de papél 
nuestros días ocupados
y llenos de pápel
qué se vea apenas el sol
a punto de llover 
qué exquisitas las palabras 
que le susurras a mi hombro
cuando me buscas tú o te busco yo
cuando toco apénas tu rostro 
con miedo a que te hagas humo 
te desvanezca el sol
y resbales de mis manos 
(como todo lo que quisiera tener) 
te pregunto sobre una cicatriz 
que tienes arriba de los labios 
sobre lo rasposo de tus palmas
lo hermoso de tus manos 
que obedecen tan divina imaginación 
tu inteligencia, tu visión 
qué bónita tu concentración
también con enojo o melancolía
tristeza o frustración 
lo que hay detrás de tus ojos 
eres música y color 
qué bónita la sorpresa 
imagína mi extrañeza
al ver a los ojos alguien 
que viera el mundo como yo
cuando conocí apenas tu rostro 
sin percibir algo especial 
de la nada en esos labios
discurso sin forzar
sobre lo bello y lo sensible 
(en ese instante me perdiste)
me hablaste primero de belleza 
así que deja te contesto
aquí va mi respuesta 
(y te digo en que me perdí) 
lleno hojas de belleza
la que veo en tu existir 

qué bónito estar viva 
estar jóven y estar viva
qué bónito día tan gris
qué bónito está el cielo 
qué bónita tu nariz
y qué linda tu boca
cuando hablas del mar
qué dulce tu voz y melodía 
tus metáforas marinas
sobre agua y licór
que con dulzura frenética 
describes el amor 
qué gentiles tus manos 
cuando juegas con mis dedos
cuando entiendes de que hablo 
concordamos en qué cosas 
sì importan; y tú me importas
cuando estando solos
no nos sentimos solos
(¡aunque te llegue solo al hombro!) 
lejos de quien no entiende 
que me miren a los ojos y digan
que nada bueno saldrá 
de lo que siento por tí 
infinito como el mar
tenías razón con lo del mar
pensé que ya se había dicho todo 
lo que se podría decir sobre el mar
ahora veo la perpetuidad
infinitud desconocida 
el mismo asombro que veo en tí
mi fascinación con las estrellas 
las del cielo y las de tus ojos
la gran bóveda y tu aura azùl
ambas me cubren siempre
cuando te escucho cantar o hablar 
cuando me preguntaste que era 
lo que me gusta de tí
y aquí está mi respuesta
mira de cuantas maneras te las digo 
qué bónito el cielo; qué bónito existir 
al mismo tiempo y sin tocarte
te juro que no son tus pestañas 
ni tus lunares, manchas de Apollo
ni las mariposas en mi estomago 
es ver lo que eres tal eres
poderte decir todo esto tan bónito
que siento por tí 
que me veas tal y como soy 
cuando te miro a los ojos 
y que te veas también a ti mismo
a través de mis ojos

no de cualquiera
arriba de los demás 
a ti te estimo 

no se cuales quieran 
sean dos o cuarenta 
no hay envidia

no con cualquiera 
de uno a la vez 
a ti te guardo

ningún cualquiera
sean dos o cuarenta
a ti te admiro

no se de cualquiera 
pero a tí te miro
a ti te percibo

no a cualquiera 
se le regalan pedazos 
de lo que es uno

y es que cualquieras
hay dos o cuarenta 
de tí hay uno