And
I feel like an onion. Layer after layer all
gone with nothing to say,
nothing but skin.

They're kissing and holding hands and
I think I'm going to be sick.

and,
I've come to realize that almost every poem
carries a cigarette, and that I'm burning away.

and,
I've spent years dying to die
aching for you to return my calls.

and,
I've spent $5 a week,
replacing your breathes
and promised pain.

They're whispering and telling each other how much they are in love and
he holds her close.

and,
now all I have is the hope that this rain will wash away our memories.

My dog’s eyes are wide;
He’s more alarmed than I’ve seen him in months
Although to be fair
I haven’t really seen him in months.

He looks at me
Like I might be able to make the wind stop
But I’ve been too busy lately
Blowing through with that wind
To even pause and scratch his ears
Let alone change the weather

I listen to the November rainstorm
Blowing through with the violent intensity
Of a first kiss
Or a last ****
And though I know I can’t change the weather for him
I still take a brief pause during the storm
To scratch his ears
And calm him down

A hammer smashing through
A bright blue wall
Showing reality’s ultimate grey:
A journey more like hell
Than anything I’d known before

Sitting on top of that dam
Which flowed like the river did
I tried to talk to you
But the words got lost
And somewhere in that mess
Of dilated pupils
And impossible patterns
Of light and sound
I remembered what is was like
To be in love.

After my high subsided
And I changed my clothes
I sat lazily at your counter
Doodling and thinking back
To the few words we'd managed
To push through
The nightmarish vacuum
Of pink and green swirling trees
Which haunted our stone blockade

You asked if I was okay
And I told you “yes”
With half
Of my too-quickly beating heart

Maybe you put your hand on my shoulder
Or maybe you didn’t-
I can't really remember-
But you said
“It’s okay to say you’re not”
And definitively I assured you

“I’m not”

I didn’t know you could suppress something
so adamantly and at the same time feel it
so deeply, so completely.  
My Head and my Heart are both
positively charged parts and they push
and push
and they squeeze,
Trying to reconcile like a
Mother and Daughter after Daughter says
“mamma, I’m not a ****** anymore”,
Wanting desperately to be given the a-okay and
rush together with a clap so strong
it would make people roll up their car windows and
call in their cats
cause there’s about to be a storm.
It’s already got winds up to 50 knots and
I haven’t even allowed it a breeze yet!
My rebellious child,
so unruly without Mother’s consent,
How will she react when Mother finally says,
“Alright child, you can come out now, it’s safe for us outside”.
But she hasn't heard the weather report and
She hasn't called her cats inside and
I’m afraid
because when that day comes
We’ll be the ones blindly content
in the trees near the flagpole by the lake,
because our sanity is no longer at stake.
And we’ll get struck by lightning.

From body to box,
Sunday brought back the reminder that death,
is the only thing permanent in this world.

Tears burning a hole in my heart, thinking back of days
in which I was dying to die,
and what for?

I have yet to figure out why we
live, or what I'm supposed to
do. The complication of that thought
processing through my anxious mind
drives monsters in my stomach
and brain
to start tearing their ways out.
Leaving each new finger print
a face to forget, and each new sent
one to remember.


I'm confused,
as to why we bury what we love under
dirt, but really
why the box?

Why not let our remains be the sprout
to courageous wildflowers and
sweet nectar.


The past four years have brought change in
everyone, and everything loved. Battling with myself
for rights and wrongs and unknown
crumbling pavement.

Haunted with "Where will I go when I die?"
Who's to say when I'm dead, because by my definition
that was April 18th.


These questions
and jumbling
blurred
thoughts
pour out of my eyes, mouth, nose, and ears
Imitating some sort of overflowing volcano
of insanity.

I haven't cried
Since that night at the end of August
When we popped bubbles and first kissed

But I've wanted to cry
Pretty much ever since

I sometimes wish I hadn't popped
Quite so many bubbles that night
Because I've really missed the thrill
Of a tiny little third grade crush
And I've really missed the person
Who's really "just" my best friend

I think lately I've been blowing more bubbles
Than I've been popping