maybe all i need to stop this pain is a little motrin.
maybe all i need to stop this bleeding is a band-aid.
maybe all i need to stop this screaming are some ear plugs.
maybe all i need to stop this drowning is a life raft.
maybe all i need to stop this agony is a little numbness.

numbness...


it wears off,  doesn't stop the pain only holds back the flood gates
of sleepless nights and screaming hearts, bloodshot eyes and rejections knife.
just long enough for me to catch a glimmer of hope, a mirage
in the Sahara, so beautiful yet so cruel.  
just as i get close enough to taste
a sweet tomorrow,
the desert sun sets.
and i'm still bleeding,
and you're still
gone.

maybe all i need to stop this searching is a little less hope.

My depression plays a game of red light green light.
I'm ok until I'm not.

i am the colors of the sea.

bright Cyan,
Sunny and see through,
No secrets or scars.
Six feet under,
But can still see,
The stars.


Coral reef Pink,  
full of life and of Heart.
The color of kindness,
where all beautiful things start.

Sea foam green,
Bubbling anger,
Act without thought.
Falling from heaven,
my emotions,
in knots.

Midnight blue,
Thoughtful and quiet,
Daylight fleeting behind us.
reflecting
a sky sprinkled with,
star dust.

A cascading rainbow of emotions and color.
All the  shades of me, complimenting one another.

65 years from now when my grandchild looks me and asks me
"Grandma do your cheeks look like they are falling and why does your backbone rise higher than the rest of you?"
I will answer:

Baby girl what they don't teach you in school is that the older you get the more gravity pulls at you.
Keeping your feet planted and your mind out of the clouds.
Life moves down instead of forward.

Bones grow frail and muscles shrivel up and weaken just like your ability to dream.
Dream of what you’re going to be,
"when you grow up" because,
darling this is it. I'm all grown up.
I am all I was ever meant to be.
My clay has hardened,
no longer able to bend and curve with the wind.  
Too weak to keep walking forward.

That is why baby run while you still can,
discover the world.
Leave footprints in every corner of existence,
because when you're as old as me your feet will be sore
and won't be able to venture deeper into the pockets of the universe.
Roots now bind me to this little house where I will keep moving down.

Gravity is too strong for me now dear. My skin has already given up. Succumbing to the mighty force. Falling away from my bones that lie hollow inside my cheeks engraved,with the memories too valuable lose after  lifetime.
So that when this world had
changed,
beyond recognition,
I will still hold inside of me the days that I spent in the sun .

As for my back.
Honey, the best thing you can have is a backbone ,
because when everything in this world in pulling you down,
you're going to need something
to keep holding you up.

My backbone,
a tribute to the years
I spent tiptoeing across
the coal beds of this life’s mighty fire.  But one day it will turn into a white flag of surrender.

That is when you know that gravity has won.
I will sink back into the earth
and maybe start again…

I want to say that I'm getting better,
that  these scars are starting to feel
like the marks of a warrior who has won battles,
but even if the bleeding has stopped, the war is not over.

There are so many days when the sun will come out,
and I can feel its warmth wash over me, and it is
when I am covered by its happy grace,
that the shadow of sadness is cast across the
sidewalks.. those sidewalks where every crack
was a canyon to wide to cross.
My blood stained on every square.

And as I stand on top of that mountain and look down
upon the valley that I had conquered,
i realize,
that my footprints spell your name...

Then there I go again,

crashing
burning

f
a
l
l
i
n
g

falling, right back into
the devils claw.

A steady minded person might tell you that everything can be measured, calculated and converted into a language of black and white, solutions worked out with sharpened pencils.

How do I measure my heart breaking?

Tell me,at what rate did my heartstrings snap when he told me he was leaving?
How long until all of my broken bones turn into dust?
Calculate at what speed the tears rolled down my checks.
How many doctors will it take to sew my heart back together?
Was it when he crumpled me up like a wasted idea etched onto a piece of notebook paper that everything started to bleed?
What part of my brain did his gentle hands touch that woke my monsters from their slumber?
How many days until this aching in my swollen chest turns into a gentle throb?
When will I be okay again?

Takes this pain and your sharpened pencils and rip the numbers from the dead hands of his name. Do away with the emotion like he did away with me.

You're my storm cloud disguised as sunshine
but your masquerade never stops the rain.
Laughs like lightning flashing across your face
sharp and dangerous, followed by the thunder of
my ignorance, cluing you in on how far your lies
stretch into my desperation to be wanted.

Lightning.
Thunder.
Oh I never thought
I was that funny
Your electric strings
Pull the punch lines out of my mouth.
Thunder.
The lightning's best friend.

Thunder.
You must really like me
You must have told your friends about me too.
Because that cackles coming out of their
throats when I tell a joke sound just like
the storm, the zigzags of fire that tear through the clouds.
telling me how funny I am, how much they love having me around.
How you need me.
Time for my response… its my job right?
Thunder.

Thunder.

Why is it now that the way you curl your lips
when I make my jokes
looking
less
and less
like a smile?
Your friends know that shape
and they know how to make their lips look the same way.
Is it some contagious thing that they all have, and disease
passed around the room every time that lightning escapes.
But they all think I am funny
It must just be a friend thing…
I should learn how to do it too.
Thunder.

Thunder.

Streaming pixels
Blurry faces of “friends”
it must have been a mistake
The love me
next time,
I’ll make sure to clear it up with them
why wouldn't they want me to attend?
Thunder.

Thunder.


Glances like knives
Darting through the air like flies
and infestation of insects that
carry messages that
I don’t understand.
But they do.
Like a major league team
catch after catch
never missing those eyes that
seem a little bit darker
and a little bit colder.
Passing the ball around the bases
returning the favor.
Why can’t I grip ball that seems to bind
them all together
leaving trails of
text messages
and parties
that I was not invited to
this ball that seems to always
keep me on the outfield.
And how come everytime that ball goes
around
and
around….
its feels like
a punch to the stomach
never ceasing to knock me
down
and
leave me
breathless.


This must be what friendship feels like…
Thunder.


Is it?
because I look around
these hallways
where I always walk to fast
trying to keep up
yet I am always
one
step
behind.
I see that
these other girls
walk in straight lines
arms joined so that no one
falls
too
far behind
yet I’m always walking in
dizzy circles
wondering when they will
turn around to see if I am
still following,
still standing,
still funny.

Thunder, the lightning's best friend…
but that is never who I was to you.

When my heart hung in the stars
I'm convinced
my better parts got lost
on the dark side of the moon.

the doctors say I'm dreaming
but I could swear to you
that the man on the moon is crying
asteroids and wilted flower petals.

we revolve around the same sun but
our revolutions although
intertwined, are chasing
different horizons longing for unfamiliar faces.

the stars are in my eyes
but it will take years of staring into
broken mirrors before I find the planet
that my smile resides on.

It's not a big deal to tear apart the happy picture I posted.
It really doesn't matter.
But it did.
Because a month ago I couldn't smile like that
A month ago I would've been afraid someone would see right through me
A month ago I was afraid of people like you and I guess I still am.
The big deal is, even though I wasn't meant to see what you were saying I still did.
The big deal is seeing that happy picture on her lit up screen made me feel for the first time since I've been happy, that cut wrists would make this feel better.

My eyelids seem
to be the strongest part of me.
When the rest of my body
falls
into the ocean
of blankets they
float open upon the white water
atop
the waves of sleep.
This is when you come back.
In this mattress I am a piece
of clay and I can still feel the deep indentations of where your fingers
wrapped themselves like Ivy around my hips.
Hips, that stuck out like white flags of surrender and
fell to the ground in a straight line.
I can still hear
you.
I am a broken record,
and your whispers are the only track that plays at this hour.
“You are fat”
“Look at how flat you are Emma, no boy will ever look at you.”
“You are ugly.”
These are the nights when I can
feel the spiderwebs your words wrapped around my ribs and
listen to the way my heart beats constricted
in its cage, your hand still clenched around it.
Can’t you see me bleeding?
Safety lies
beneath my eyelids but you pull them open
I can feel
your icy touch behind my eyes as I stare
coldly at the ceiling.
you demand to be heard.
Did you mean to put your words
in my pocket when you reached in to steal the sleep that was nestled there like crumpled dollar bills?
Do you realize that you stayed with me?
Can you take your stolen midnight hours back and place them on your pillowcase?
Will your eyelids close?
Or can you still hear my cries of protest as your soundtrack plays into the night?
I don't understand?
Did you think it wouldn't hurt me?
Or did you want to live forever,so you put your
fingerprints where you knew they wouldn't fade.

the world is e.n.d.i.n.g
every. second, is. fleeting.
minutes. become empty pockets
of moments. no longer,able. to, support
existence;
those. who .see
each; br,eath ,as a tick. on their own
clock; reminding them that
they too are
ending.
run, from. their lungs.
forgettin to. let e a c h insta.nt
take hold, of their. flesh.
because,
even. if father time.  has claws,,, that
lea.ve scars.
at least, etched into their
bones. would be, the
smiles, wide enough.
to convince, the man on. the moon
to. hold, back night,fall. a little longer
letting. this brief, lifetime, linger.
and the ,laughter. that rippled; time, into
deep wrinkles. of prol,o.nged being.
scratches, that. symbol victory's, over. time's
elusive game.
so that. when. our, clocks run. out of time
we can, be winners. without
being the first to the finish line.
leave. our, bodies behind.
as, time capsules.
filled, with. the lives
.claimed
by, patient.
eyes.

There are still parts of me that don't
c
r
u
m
b
l
e
when my demons call my name.
Being ok is just a game.
How far can excuses go
until you pick up the stones you throw
How many lies will roll off your tongue
Before you stop playing with a loaded gun
How many tears until your fine
Darling where are you drawing the line
How many years until you're old
What memories are you making to hold
How many cars do you have to chase
Before you can draw the smile back on your face.
How many lonely nights
until you give up this fight.
How many scars until you realize
your not weak for closing your eyes.

My frail glass bones shattered with the windows.
We walk on yellow striped tightropes and dance
with impossibility until his grasp becomes to tight.
I fell into a river of metal droplets wheels rolling as
Mr. Impossibility connected two infinities.
Glass fingers tapped on a glowing glass screen.
Metal clashed, my scream was lost with sirens into a
echo of blue and red lights.
There was a silence that pulled me into the casket that
sat open in the passenger seat.

A pretty girl with a pretty face,
the demons she was still trying to chase,
gripping her heart,
and clouding her mind.

darling its all in your head

Where an escape is impossible
to find.

Hello Monster,
I don’t know what you look like here.
But I can feel you coming back.
I knew you lived in his hands
Because it hurt
Whenever he put them on my hips
You sharpened my inhales
and they cut my heart on their way
to my lungs.
I knew how you poisoned my name
when they came out of her lips
because it sounded
like someone who looks better
with cut wrists.
she was broken anyway.
I grew to know you quite well.
You let go of my throat
and seemed to hold my hand
We were friends you
and I.
Maybe all it took was
a change of scenery.
My hair grew longer
and so did your claws.
And now I can’t see you until
I’m already bleeding.
I didn’t know how his eyes
on me, would make me
want to be skinny.
Until you were cutting away
all the parts around the edges
that had grown soft since
we stopped fighting.
Bony is beautiful
you whispered.
I didn’t know
you were in her back
until you showed me
how it bends when
it turns away from me.
I didn’t know you were in my knees
that ache now as I chase
and crave someone's lips
on me in the dark.
Because maybe someone will
want me
when they can’t see me.
When they can’t see us.
You’re back inside of me.
I know you are.
And it scares me.
Because I’m starting to see you again.
You look just like me.

Sincerely,
Emma

Anger is a little boy in a ripped jacket
who plays tag with Stability too close to a cliff.

Confusion is a child with tangled hair and a purple shirt
who enjoys running circles around Content turning
her flower crowns into razor blades.

Depression is a pale girl with sad eyes who plays
red light green light with Happiness near that old garden
they called Eden who lately seems to be dying.

☆
Keeping us reaching
staring
striving,
achieving.
In the belief, the hope
that there is something
bigger
better
higher
Some
reward
ours to trace
in the endless
connect the dot game
a bigger power
because sometimes
we want to feel
small,
inadequate
in the universe's great
scheme.
So that maybe our
mistakes
won’t feel so
big.

I don't expect you to get why I have such a hard time moving on, forgiving.

But I also don't expect you to get how bad it hurt.

How it tore me apart.
How your four letter word burned.
1. u
2. g
3. l
4. y

How much that twisted
what I saw in the mirror.
And how it killed me to look at those lowercase ls on my wrist and have them spell
fat
and
ugly
and
you
will
never
change...

Maybe I don't get it either, maybe I don't understand why I let it hurt me.

But it did

and
now
we're
here.

Wondering what happened to
our first love.

“Have you written about me yet?”  you asked.
“I write about things that make me sad, you’re not one of them.” was my response.

But even as you made me sad,
Even as my heart started to crumble.
I never could write about you.

I am a poet I string stars into constellations
And weave words into stanzas.
I need someone whose eyes can be twisted into metaphors
And the mere sound of their voice makes my hands tremble so gracefully
That I can make my magic with a pencil.

I was in love with all the poems I wished I could write about you.
How badly I wanted to sculpt you with sentences into something
Too beautiful to call mine.
But you are not a poem.

Yes, your eyes are quite a gorgeous blue,
And your arms are strong.
I’m sure you would make a beautiful painting,
An inspiration for someone else’s art.
But not mine.

You wanted to believe all of my broken pieces
could fit in a cardboard box.
That's what attics are for, to hide ugly things.
You're beauty was skin deep.
And thats how you wanted me.
I didn't want to be empty.

“Have you written about me yet?” you asked.
“I write about things that have meaning, you’re not one of them.” should have been my response.

If you don’t love yourself then who will?
My confidence, you were out to ****.
Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the weakest of them all?
That ugly, horrid, wicked girl tangled up in truths and lies.
Her reflection twisting with her mind.

I know the face
inside every car that
passes my bedroom window.

Why do I feel so ****



lonely?





I'm surrounded by these faces
of people who I have known since
pre-school.
Yet I don't think they have ever met me.

I am a piece of shrapnel,
pulled from the angry fist of an angel,
who spent a lot of her time watching cars crash.
Wondering what we've made of creation.
but the metalworker feel asleep.
before he could finish making
me into something,
beautiful.

And when he woke up it was too late.
I can't change.
I hardened perfectly into that mold
the one that society said would look good on me.
So those people took one look at me and then
cut out their eyes.
No longer able to see what else
I might have inside.



So I live in the dark.
The girl who I am when I am alone
is not ready to be seen from the road.

She's not strong.
She's not ready,
not ready to explain the light
streaming from the windows
of the big white house around the corner from
school and the ice cream place.

Maybe she's to afraid that her light,
isn't really there, just something made up,
to give her hope that she has something,
to help her escape this
town.

But maybe she's afraid that her light...
will be too much of a surprise for those
drivers drunk on dreams.
Because being herself,
shouldn't end with
angry angles.

trace
my palms
until you discover
they are roads
to my heart.

connect
my freckles,  
and imperfections
until they
say,
"i'm healing"

whisper
my heartbeat
into my chest
until i
remember,
the beauty in
it's song

kiss
me until
i'm breathless
so that i
will know
what it is,
to breath

please,
try to mend my broken pieces.

love me back together again

I wish I could say I was sand that slipped through your fingertips, but baby that's a truth for someone else.

You let me go.
You would rather be loved on hazy nights than for all the forever's I could promise you. You wanted love, you just didn't want me.

This is our truth.

Lose my keys.
Lose my sleep.
Lose my thoughts.
Lose my pride.
Lose my lover.
Lose my mind.
This is a skill I've mastered.
What I am is a loser.

Trust me darling it only hurts the first time.
The pain?
You'll lose that too.

Sometimes,
In the space between our lips
and the time between "I love you." ,
your heartbeat sounds like footsteps.
Please don't slam the door on your way out.

I wonder what your lips taste like.
Maybe something like the earth
Something solid.
Where I don't have any room to fall.

I never wondered this about him.
Too afraid that they would taste like the constellations.
So beautiful until connected, reading
"you're not as beautiful as I thought"

Little girl with your tiny hands know that whatever you build for yourself will one day be destroyed so tread carefully on this glass universe.

This meticulous life, a house of cards that you're going to spend a childhood building and playing house in, so easily toppled by a breeze.  Know that one day life is going to be a hurricane. And the little world that's you poured your soul into is going to be gone.

That empty hole in your chest is going to burn like hell. That ***** that pumps the blood and keeps your cheeks rosy is going to catch aflame. And that raging fire is going to ignite the blood flowing through your fingertips. Your going to fall in love and that boy is going to pour gasoline all over your little mess of a life. And that's when you'll realize that a fiery heart does nothing but burn you to to the ground.

You'll be six feet deep in ashes and regrets. Lies shoved so deep down your throat that you won't be able to scream for your release from the chains that bind you to this ground that you used to call home.

Little girl  take those broken heart shards and all build yourself a wall. Lock your gates baby because the loneliness that will freeze your blood. May just help soothe the burns.

It kills me to see you with her,
but if when she smiles, your bones
ignite and your heart flutters...
kinda the same way mine does when i look at you....
not even a heart this cold, would ever wish that
away from you.

The girl with the heart that was once full of fire,
now burned to a black soul of charcoal.

And with a chain around her neck that said dream,
she set out trying to gain something she had lost along time ago.

And she hoped with all of her burned soul and tattered mind,
this missing piece she had yet to find,
would silence her screams and her heart, redefine.

I want so badly to remember,
what it was like to forget about you.
But if you left,
so would I.

Together
tumbling
d
o
w
n
that
cliff
of
sanity.

Woven over every girls
heart
are the words,
*handle with care

it's okay really,
it's okay that you can't commit
it's okay that it's been awhile since somebody wanted me
and it's okay if you decide you don't want to save me from these waves of loneliness that seem to have crashed over my head.
it's okay if you don't like to swim
I'll tell you that I'm easy, that it's okay if you don't want to kiss me goodbye, or hold my hand,
that I don't want you to.
and I'll tell myself it's okay to lie.
it's okay if you don't want to drink a glass of the sad songs  my broken heart will pour out for you.
it's okay.
it's okay.
it's okay really,
I'm not broken, just lonely.

sitting at the kitchen table
crying,
and trying to
explain to my mom
why i stayed
while she told me,
with small kaleidoscopes of
warped devastation
pooling in her eyes
and rolling down her cheeks,
that this is scaring her.
because, it sounds like
i’m the type of girl
who stays,
while her husband beats her.
the girl she raised.
sitting at the kitchen table
crying,
and realizing
that when you ran your hands
through my hair as you kissed me,
you were twirling my future around
your fingers.
this is scaring me
because you’ll be the guy
who carved the hole in my chest
that stays
i know i will see your fingerprints
in all the hands that will come after you.

And I Will Run.

this life was just
a stepping stone
one her way to bigger dreams

her grip upon time
was lose
as the future
lay in
her palm

focused solely
on the hope
that she was
going far,
her eyes fixed,
on the horizon
and her heart painted
in the stars

but darling,
she couldn't
have told me
all the colors in
a smile,
as she never
laid her
head down
to rest
for awhile.

baby girl
when you
grow older,
know the
colors of
this world
show me the
red of anger
and the
vibrant hues
of joy.

spend a lifetime
gazing at the earth
beneath your feet,
you'll find little
pieces of heaven
between,
grass blades
of the present.

I’d give you the hour I had. Slipped down the front steps, into to my boots, “Mom, I’m going to James’ to catch up. Back in an hour,”
“Elvridge?”
“yeah”
“Oh, is that who’s here? Awe tell me how he is,” my mom smiled with warm sandbox concern as she waved out the window. You’ve always been welcome here.
“I think he is doing better he got a new job he likes, going to go hear more,”

We started like we always have, along the awkward edge of fragility, like I might just jump out before you get going too fast. You’re the tooth I have tied against my doorknob; it’ll take escaping the threads of my body to ever find the nerve to kick you clean out. I commit when the road gets quick underneath us. I have always played reluctant and barely convinced to come see you. One layer you thumb against your index; you make me feel like a rookie when I am the older one who knows better, who’s watching her body slouch into a fiddling girl.
We split 2 “****** joints,” no filter - a term you taught me just then, tapping it against my nose before lighting it between your lips. You decided on the cell phone lot along the airstrip; continued your scant refusal to answer my questions, ones about the text from the night before. Insisted the ****** ladies had swept you straight off your feet - no need to go back when you’re feeling so much better.  
Oh good - I will tell my mom that you are well and hear from you late later this week with your prayers to the subtle god of short-term solutions.

No planes took off but we hoped with our eyes pressed against a clear sky.
“Could be Oregon.”
“Yeah, it could be.”
“I’d pack the car tomorrow, you know that.”
“I’d be nice.” I breathed to close this prayer between us. I will meet you there when all else fails. You’d take me there tonight. I hate you so ******* much but I trek out every time you call to look at Oregon through your windshield because it would be nice. We’d stand a chance in Oregon. We could love each other well.
You wrap your hand around my thigh.
“Sorry, had to,” you smirk before retracting it quickly.
“You have a crooked idea of what’s necessary,” it’s gotten us into that backseat only twice over five years but, I have always let your hands test my resolve.
“You’re right. How’s the boyfriend?” you tease as you throw your arm over my seat and the car into reverse.
“Oh, please he’s not my boyfriend,” I dismiss you quickly and watch the scar sweat down the corner of your wry smile, warmly lit by fire between your teeth.
“I think it’s funny. You’ll call me when it’s over so what’s the difference.” I hate that you’re right.

It was a smooth red Mazda roll from the cell phone lot to the roads you came here for, the hidden highway stretches behind the airport. The blood left my chest as your knuckles went white against the transmission.
down shift
down shift
down shift
the darling terror of your acceleration swelled to breath in my lungs. You smile like you remember; I smile as if I don’t. The way the floor caved to meet me the day I got the call. The way you cried into the mirror when you finally woke up to the tempered glass scar that carves across your face. I’ve been the fool in you passenger seat more than I’ll ever admit. My mom would never let me leave the door if I told her the truth, that I only trust you driving this fast with me there. Flying around these wooded bends, I know if I ever want to keep you, I have to be your something to lose.
Don’t worry mom he wouldn’t **** us both.

The first time we did this was the first time after. I thought we were going to park and talk but you wept as we climbed to 200 on the highway. I shook and begged you to slow down.
You wished it had worked. You wished it had worked. I knew the EMT, she told me you wished she had not worked.

I don’t know what is different now but as the night whipped past the empty roads, I wanted to reach out my hands and touch time through the December sunroof, to kiss the creeping truth of scarcity like she was coming home. We are moving so fast through what we have left and oh my god I feel like I can breathe again. I so am afraid for the unsuspecting, praying that any late-night jogger or crossing deer is miles safe from our never stopping in time.
You are not. You love me like a religion, with enough faith to steer straight and trust the road ahead like you know that it will clear it if it’s meant to. But I know you. I know your nightmare isn’t the oak tree you met on this road months ago.
You won’t **** your wrist this time
but if the tires slipped on the melting snow
and we both fly to Oregon through your windshield,
you pray you’re not the only one this time,
begging not to come home.

With our own intoxicating tongues,
we blame one another.
Hoping someone will get around to explaining,
how our planet was poisoned.

It was your lips that delivered the first blow.
But it was my tongue that dug the grave.

Hold in your pain and swallow their lies.
Stick with it honey, hold onto your pride.
Don't let them see that your dying inside.

A smile will cover the scars on your heart.
We've all known that right from the start.

Put on some make up and do as your told.
It's a vicious cycle to which we've sold our souls.

Would it tear you apart to know that I was clean for so long.
Would it tear you apart to know that the the number is back to zero.
Would it hurt if I told you how you woke up those monsters inside my head that all steer me towards steep cliffs of insanity.
Would it hurt you to know that I stepped off.
Would you cry knowing that you choosing her broke me.
Would you cry if you saw my shattered bones spelled your name.


No I don't think it would.
My screams are not silent, they are carved into my body, they erupt from my eyes but baby you never were one to notice how my heart bled for you.
Our love was a metaphor written in a language you didn't understand.





maybe you need to learn to read.

After letting go I have found,
It is the fear of falling,
That hurts more than
the ground.

Am I wrong for dipping my toes into these
depths before I dive?
Don't you dare tell me to love him when
you are not the one still coughing up water from
that last time you went headfirst into dark waters.
Love is a life raft on an ocean but honey it's to dangerous to
be dangling when you don't know how to swim.

Do not call me pretty.
Flowers are pretty.
And if pretty is what you're buying,
my heart is not refundable, when you find thorns.
I would think that because you said you loved me,
that maybe would would have realized that I am more the five letters.
Do not call me pretty.

I think I stopped writing
because I stopped finding beauty
in the places where
I find myself.

I'm falling again into the winter sky.
Those pretty scars float on snowflakes .
Help me, this
white glitter is stained red.
Oh look the grey clouds
are dropping nightmares.
How wonderful, these rooms and closing in.
All of this snow is building up and up
around the windows.
Oh baby look the sun had left us, my happy heart in hand.

your freckles are beautiful
but they’ll be cancer one day
i guess i’ll just let the sun pepper my face
because i heard the chemicals in sunscreen could **** me too
what the **** is moderation i want the entire world
won’t let the paint dry
my bare feet will dance
and smear that red line between too little and all too much
i swear i’m not masochistic just curious
when i chase after all the things that will **** me
because it sounds lovely to live and die a couple times,
keep giving my funeral guests and encore
i’m not scared of doing this wrong i’m scared of doing this once
i want to go everywhere and stay right here
i want a husband and a wife and a whole life of one night stands
i’m not scared of pain i’m really not
so i’ll throw myself towards the deep and the dark
because what if one day i’m at the top without ever really knowing what i’m above

in those days we were all grit
and computer screen grime
nails too far out from the hardwood floor

the last time we kissed the car was in drive
and I wondered if we had
anything still

exhilarating until
fingers burnt on blown out tires
nose bleeds in the morning
novelty by the mouthful

you’re destruction,
that’s holy in hindsight
I re-scratch your patterns in my back
lick the old twists of your tongue
in the beginning, you said
you’d leave me whole
I itch for anything you left undone.