I get jacked
on the +

my habitual needle
pumping somedays
into my veins

it's how
I stonewall
this tsunami of pain

hangs upon my bleak
wall bleached by
disassociation

above a filing cabinet
storing thesis research
from The Trauma Institute
Campus at Stockholm

he made me
stand still

that was
THE thing

not adrift on passé
or futuristic projectings
not jumping rope
on hyped-up think strings

all of me
paused
to feel all of him
every inner switch
flicked on forever
KC lights streaming
yepyepyep

wired spinefire
warming its way
to burst through skin
invisible firecrackers
jumpstarting the air
revolt from suffocating

we were
whereverthefuck
together

(+ think we dropped pins in)

all molecules at ATTN
his lip blueprints existing
eternal in my synaptic tracks

beyond the say breathes
the evermore of listen
eardrum heartstrum
empathic rhythm

his brainfire ringing
my threshold doorbells
syntactic turrets spitting
direct hits beyond ramparts
into unshuttered windows

bizarro blurbs
wrap me uppers
10,000 suction cup tentacles
asphyxiating the cloak of me
skinning and bonding me
to particles of matterthings

self-conscious and judgment
marked absent
we resounded here!
but no hands in the air
to Be seen

sensory nonsense pitterpatters
into where All is found lost
to hallowed delights

except for the realies
don't ******* that ****
it's my cryptonite

but unless you integrate
really do the inner work
not just Be Dazzle your ego
with illumination memoirs

after something
skims your surface
you might go from repping
solfeggio frequencies
to singing, get on my level ***
finger flinging in the face
of head-spun girl wondering
what the **** have I done
got to Ctrl + Z
trapass stuck keys

undo
undo
undo

patterns will reemerge
unless you hack the ****
outta perspective lit up

(be it LSD or other
luminous peaks)

******* magical
despite psychopaths
running the shitshow
egoic stoic will unfold
as origami hearts turn
etheric tissue paper
interdimensional winged
aglow in palm

supple skin braille
concave instigating
letterpress caress

crescent palms grasp
milkrose hourglass
suppressing sand

as we
glide the sky
midnight to bright

Venus dimples
when she smiles
from behind

who you are
how you feel
what you
want

and how
to get there

but these

slit serifs
shielded wounds
and white knuckles
are some things
in the way

give them
fresh air exodus

the walk is through
never around

remember:

the quickest way
between two points
is always & forever

a straight line

bindings beg to be pulled
from glyph-gorged stacks
to temp risen laps
finger grasped
spreading pages

indecisive craves
begat overdue fines
so many times
for lackluster endings
and characters not
worth the crack

so many stories
heroes and heroines
man vs. mechanisms
(of mind)

these rising acts
will parachute down
into denouement nets

but our parallel strands
have already been sewn
in galactic hammock

and I know we both
just know

there will
never ever be
another story
as wild and mystical
combusting magical
as how
we

came
into being

only timelapsed
soulvolution will tell
if we get happy endings
on repeat

get to spin our tell-worthy yarn
to a sea of wide-eyed disbelief:

heartstart firecracks
luminous on India ink black
unlikely alchemy everclear
writ by hands parallel

on the most
pivotal

night of my life

coaxed by
billow blowing
my back toward
double doors

bloomy blush palms
grace cold chromium
transfixed yet still
slightly froze

by their magnitude
stellar statuesque
ornate etchings
on the outside

engravings tonging
somethings subtly
warbling up vertebra
no longer numb

and I
remember
this hand
this voice
this vibration
this harmony

a fifth or a third
resonant progression
of ordered chords
this same old song
never heard, yet
- known -

buried, now begging
eternal womb
to be born

the want
wavers fingers
in front of the bell
until the know grows
too large to hold
behind stately doors

craving light, space, time
to stretch and unfold

dew-spun carbon
beyond the threshold

my head conversations
aren't largely solitude
but opposite you

bet I get your lines wrong often
and brow angles skewed

but we have mad fun
(most of the time)

teetering off the edge
into the unknown

in air-gasping hysterical fits

until we catch
each other's breath
curling up inside
unflinching eyes

one day out of nowhere
the silenced inside simply found
a swift route to the outside

metal clink *******
words burst forth
telling stories I
did not know
I had in me

and ever since, I know
if I'm not inking myself
I'm hiding

from me

I can quit
for a while
but the longer I go
the stronger it grows

and more forcibly, terribly, it
makes its way up from my belly
when it breaks loose

I should know better by now
the repercussions of shutting down
thoughts lining up to ricochet
but sometimes

I just can't

when it makes me feel more
of what is already unbearable

when it all seems so pale
in comparison to abysmal palette

when I'd rather avoid
looking in the mirror...

I never chose
to be a writer

the words just surged
as soon as my fingers
found their home

just like it was
with us

made by inserting line breaks into the top chunk of my 8.0k words*

know like
just thing inside
**** maybe
life things think
soul time real love
day lines **** mind eyes

got feel
want words trying
left matter
tongue feet hands
door cold

space holy
bones way wanna *******
we're walked walls
truth open
end line best
years ***** ink heart
little moments stories says
dust hand
free hope trust

sad wish
hell rising past inner fingers
night white teeth sit deep
dunno tell crystal
sure wanted make pull sky
remember dropped felt knees
brimming poetry

******* air seen
lips palms spin
lonely black mouth  
hard page
really dreams ready

fear other's crack  
corner survival broken
hollow home
clear tears coming
edge high pain
thought bubbles wet

push imperfect bloom  
breaking skin motions
mystical flow say lost
direct warm red
use having meant  
there's floor shaking
friendship grey  
arms wrong cracked

ride doubt escape
knew look
bare right girl
wonder feeling
finger days

of blissbrick meanderings
smacks straight into
purpose, full

don't number
nameless incubating
prior to hatch

unimaginable unknowns
may yet manifest

one potential alteration:
me, singer in this
ambiguously yay rap duo

Vernacular Spectacular
Spitshit Linguistic
or maybe Prolix Helixed

first album:
Straight Outta Whoville

you may know
but you never
quite know

the One is THE
ultimate storyspinner
weaving all our tiny threads
into tapestry bigger
than grey matter
can muster

let it
let go

this is undoubtedly
the spun cycle

I could practically
pen a calendar
of our seasons

marked holidays
and monthly art
animating image-flips
from shimmer grins sprung
gone grinchupsidedown

imagining voiceover
as replays unfold

I’ve always had a thing
for strange, dark men

it started at Jareth’s glam teased mullet,
winged eyeliner, magic dance moves,
smooth af tights and goth orb raving

no ******* wonder
I ended up with the Goblin King
trying to take my baby away
locking me in mazes

just fear me, love me, do as I say…

and when that chilly November
shook me awake
finally

the words I kept tasting
over and over
on my thawing lips:

*you have no power over me

underneath all these
prosaic proclamations

the kind of poetry
that rises on its own
climbing your throat
from pump overflowing
and pirouettes off
the tip of the tongue
somersaulting thru ether
into sherbet blooms
underneath every
faerie footprint

righter
written down

all my weathery
carousel personalities
get a spin at the roulette

pen pushing chorus
into distillation

dipping 10,000 toes
into spectrumland
while I feign motions
on the outside

paper refuge
breathing trees
play with me

out there surfing
glowstick rainbow rings
in this bizarrebeyond
custom branded atmosphere
that only I could breathe

until we dropped
formality

and for some strange reason
felt free to be all of me
you jumped on board
not skewing my orbit

and all the members
of my lonely hearts club
ascended the stairs
to get a good look
at this kindred enigma
twin lucid in the sky

they pushed me forward
when feet fumbled

they wanna break free
architect realities over
trace-paper dreams

wordarts n' crafts
changetheworld dates

they wanna sit
next to your troupe
silently

gaze into open
continuum siphon
where words cannot go

exhale in sync
eternally

'cause behind mâché
is already seen

Sitting in my car, steeping in misery.
At the end of another lonely lunch.
Playing on my phone, I saw you.

I’m not sure what happened precisely then,
that made me hold out my hand so boldly.
Only, a feeling washing over me.
That I was losing you.
Your interest, maybe.

Even though I was still trying to deny,
the pull and the see from the get-go,
I knew. Under the push and doubt,
I liked you. And your interest in me.
Skirting along the lines of PC.

I knew when you posted that video.
Some girl shimmy-shaking. Not very well.
Oh, the curves...

I wanted you to verb mine.

Walked past her on the stage in my mind.
Decked-out in dakini tribal,
making it rain.

In your lap.

Every part of my life was hell then.
And anytime you said anything,
chills up the spine.
Alive.

I was immune that day.
High as a kite, yet without a clue,
how much higher we would be,
in just a few hours.

And when I left to drive home,
the exact second I turned my car on,
began the lyrics of an acoustic song I love.
And had never heard on the radio before.

I found a line and then it grew
I found myself still thinking of you
I felt so empty and now I'm fine
but still it's burning when will you be mine

Sometimes I wonder,
if I hadn’t left exactly then,
if I hadn’t heard that specific song,
keyed up at just the right time…

Maybe I wouldn’t have been even bolder.
Maybe we wouldn’t have ascended,
hand-in-hand into the stratosphere,
shotgunning pineal heartstrum.

I deleted our conversation history,
when he found my poetry page.
Not to deny it, but to save it from him.
Keep him from tainting it.
Not one sacred character.

But I remember most of it.

That’s the thing:
I remember you, as if,
part of you continues to exist,
inside of me.

*do you remember all the songs that I have wrote for you?
all the songs that I have wrote for you...

the curiouser
wants to know things

like:
how many times
I've curled the edges
of that holy mouth

how many flutters
almost caved the roof
on that blood-red lockbox

how many times we've climbed
each other's walls, coming down
on soft dew clouds
inside your mind

and
how many times

you held yourself shaking
when I wasn't there

these things matter
to me

and I wish
I could overlay

my parallel trend line

my palate favors
particular concoctions
over too many pots
and helpings spurned

I don’t need
to taste everything
imported from China
suped-up HFCS and MSG
the first bites are yum
across hungry tongue
but the rest are all meh
instigating regretful churns
and nutrient deficiencies

I just want that
raw, organic, GMO-free
concentrated, satiating
perfected recipe
crafted expertly
on my tongue
daily

x3

is the only line I can remember
from the first poem I ever wrote
on my mom's old Smith-Corona

on a thin, cheap piece of paper
with typos and strikethroughs
before that was cool

and when I think about
all the pieces of me
I let him eradicate:

clothes, shoes, makeup
pictures, journals, poetry
friends, family

all those moments
all those pieces of me
just -

gone.

there I am, again
spiraling in magma
equal parts rage
and pain

I bought the ticket
to the worst ride
of my life

and I am so tired
of paying for it

animating your fears and
character assasinations
in my direction

(as an attempt
by your ego to protect
that black-iced velvet heart
that's dying to know
the me I really am
or already does
and wants a reunion)

I'll be here

just
being me
this brain, this pulse
this history all on display

and FYI, I've
never shown mine
like this to anyone -
every millimeter of skin
every satin-wrapped dream
every jagged edge of broken
every malady that made me

me

your ego says
oh hell no, because
it knows my laser eyes
and furnace heart are gonna
burn that mother to the ground
with just one look

(a.k.a. 10,000 jade-lit
kaleidoscopic stones)

and in its place,
architect realities with maybe
a mother-in-law cottage
for that grippy gripe old bat
(at best) out back

behind crystal palace
atop bone graveyard
while we dine on serifs
washed smooth by
thrashing shores

on cosmic waterfront lot
with sugarsand paused
crystalline, still and
completely
ours

I've realized
I can ignore you
for a little while
get ****** up
in other stories

but then the
electromag compass
pulls at me
it's just this thing
beneath the sternum
wants recognition
beyond eyes

and you are
the truest north
it's ever known
so far

it was never the words
but what they represent:
our scripture, an effigy
to ineffable deities
morphed and mirroring
inside those holy moments

my mind says, **** this ****
but my heart cries, I want some more

when it feels safer
than love

...

spoiler alert:
it's not

the words don't work
unless you put them
under your tongue,
let them dissolve
and become
your new
truth.

you can't just
lick them casually,
heart on lockdown,
guarded by mind,
******* detector
set on high.

the power is in belief.

when you put down skeptical,
suddenly, you make room
for the mystical.

don't tell me
you don't remember
precisely how that goes...

that was the miracle:
it wasn't just what I said to you.
I'm sure you'd heard such things
prior to that luminous transference.

it was how you - trusted - exactly then
to eat the words I put gently
in the palm of your blooming hand.

and just then,
they became true
for me and you
like ****!

and there We were,
making magic, my dear,
with these exquisitely parallel
inversely proportional tongues,
with direct connect to hearts
starting to beat as one.

we shall create as we speak -

but only what
we also believe.

without friendship
we have nothing

no substrate sustainable
nest on fire fallout

we play with matches
kindling tilt hips
but these skins chill
so fast

in the absence
of underlying structure:

woodpyre pyramid ascent
pointing at blackdrop
where fractured lights
dance against

contorting shadowsong
upon crooked wings

waters run
down the center
slice opening

droplet forming
flow between
edges skimming

tracing vinyl
you pull music
from me

dervish spun
attuning frequency

and streaks my heart walls inky
intermittently

I don't want to keep
grieving the passed
it hijacks the now

it's all we have

just a string
of fleeting, fragile moments
with zero guarantees

pimiento angeldust,
where have you been
all my life?

though I wish
I met you sooner
let's not bemoan
days gone by

but start now
in agape mouth
with a thorough intro
upon eggs and 'cado

and this tongue
that loves you so

is side-flip of vivid
awesomely augmented
projection blissings

sated seraphims spin
atop agile toes

but so do
voracious villains

those ******* link arms
and do-si-do

spinning you
wrong 'round

fear dealers
doling out
bunk doses

I keep
throwing up palms
like whoawhoawhoa
not now - got **** to do
inside the ******' zone

ego seen-through
crushmoded

he was always
wanting, waiting
to take this walk with me

back turned at the edge of the woods
I called to him, said I was coming

and when I arrived at his side
our feet synced and tongues entwined
in stride, aligned and winding along
this colloidal ladder of a path
inside vines climbing into curls

we were so green

verdant bloom mouthing heartbeats
in synchronic lightstreams

remember when
we stepped into the clearing
where treetops parted for the sky
we both looked up, then laid down
inside the other's mind
neither push nor pull
but stilled

entranced
by backlit rhythmic ribs
arising and ebbing harmonic
bathing in the shores of soul
they dive deeper, you know...

it didn't matter
when the rains came
because you stayed with me
even though you bemoaned
the falling wet charcoal
I tousled your ashen hair
and listened

then I straddled you
and spoke of rainbow spectrums
visible only
after the clouds cry

and you
you let me
crawl inside your ear
with whispers of black-lined blissings

and in that instant
the sky vibrantly bowed
arcing prismatic across rays
bestowing halos on us both
imperfect beings
perfectly seeing

from afternoon thunderstorms
while the sun still shines
and the sky crackles
a hypnotic lullaby

my sacred
electromagnet
pulses white light
then vanishes into black

strobing me blind
as fragile fingers feel
along walls for doors
stumbling over furniture

wick flickering
flame dance
amid changeling winds

so happy anniversary
of yesterfray

when I peripherally laid
my eyes on you

the day I
didn't believe
because why???

it didn't compute
so my brain pushed it
away away away

because how
could you find it so easy
to replace me and ricochet
between four arms that were
not me

that was my logic:
if you loved me, if it meant
- anything ever -

you wouldn't have
made those decisions
like a haphazard hellbat
rattling off the tracks

so it was
quite obvious
I was just hallucinating
just pasting my aching heart
onto some random guy
who was oddly
not dancing

the truth is deep
and I'm trying to not
have you OD but I think
it's time to increase your dosage
and we're getting closer
closer still to
a mouthful

and one demispoon is
I noticed you the instant
you hit my periphery
maybe 15 feet away

I guess by noticed
I mean my stomach
did a nosedive down
through my intestines
resounding repetition
internal to the tune of
this isn't happening

as you made your way
in front of me

I was petrified
losing my mind
it made no sense

but that feeeeling
had your name
beating down
my lips

and I even pondered
tapping you on the shoulder
to ask something as asinine as
do I know you?

so, here comes
another serum dose

it wasn't until I was
contemplating the potentials
of reactions by you
or not-you

that I remembered
I wasn't alone -
I was, how you say...
with someone?

and maybe you can relate a bit
to how I could possibly find
myself in that situation
so quick

dear Watson, I can certainly now
understand how easy it in fact is
to fall into the arms of someone
you have history and unfinished
karmic business with

when you're
so alone and lonely
feeling lost and hungry
for connection you bypass
all the utterly obvious
ill-fitting cardboard edges
that aren't even the same image
and just focus on the one or two
that click right in, so comforting it is
to walk down the same old street
even though you already know
how and where it ends

it was certainly
a welcome distraction
from picking glass splinters
out of crippled crimson fingers

and now I understand
how you did what you did
and that is why I came back
again...

because it took me that long
to let go of feeling
unloved

and realize
you did

it wasn't your honey
that got me

nor was it
your smolder

they may be
most dimpliest lines
but what shook me
from numb to sprung
violent stripping
my own *******
what woke me
from prison slumber
was

your dent fingers
shaking crimson

still
reaching

strife gone strive
leaning into lightbloom
curled in a corner
dim pulse knocking

how in the center
of rage-iced pain
tornado torn lone
you felt it

reflecting my own
pushpull oblong halo

still
orbiting

even our fuckits and flails
have aftertaste
of skies slid

like clockwork
metronome headboard
tapping the wall from below

sometimes it wakes me
others I'm already up
with weird energy peaks
in the middle of the night
can't go back to sleep...

not only because
I know what they look like

it's the exact same
every. single. time.

I get a little happy for them
when they're about to ***

but kinda wanna be like,
don't you know any other songs?!

sitting in rubble
lingering on leveled

before dismantle
scraped down cyan

this dust
this mess

jagged frags of us

it's all
still here

kissing smithereens

my pink orchid sits wilting
next to the kitchen sink

I feared it was thirsty
and starting to die
so I overwatered

now the petals
are definitely
falling

when seeking truth
excavating sediment
and scanning density
of walls, walls, walls

we bucket and label
divide and ostracize
our grace felled

truth bubbles over
inside a *** of paradox
brimming with inconsistent
opposites

we force ourselves to separate
the mutually unexclusive

cutting the real
with ors

but the crux of true
lies inside the ands

real and surreal
easy and difficult
illuminating and confusing
painful and healing
beautiful and ugly
lost and found
utterly imperfect and
unparalleled perfection
never ready and
ever equipped

for

utmost exhilarating
and wholly frightening

underneath white walled parallels
the steel beam cemented in block

I think

is if we fail us
in 3D actuality

we stand not even
one oblique chance
with other elses
ever

start thinking it best
to hedge on those bets
table the looming
beyond believables

just to keep cracked
the door to possibility
of extraordinary love

to not strikethrough
reveries pristine
of one day being
lit perpetually

a while back
I changed my
Evernote font

to Palatino Linotype

I know, I know
whogivesafuck
but yeah…

it means a lot
to my insides

I wonder
a lot.

and this
one wonder
keeps popping up.

it's about this
boy I just knew
with furrowed brow
and pained dark eyes -
he wore my insides
on the outside.

until he left
the shrouded cult
and aligned to the opalite.

the thing I
keep wondering is -
what would he
say now?

and I keep
settling on:

***** it,
I'm a dreamer.

and you go all wahwah
Peanuts grownups

then fall
decomposes me
your lips always twisted
in silken wilting

just one petal adrift
detonates memorial landmines
impaling me permeable

with depthtruthfelt

hands held
for spring

me back to
the altar of I dunno

from the falter of
I wanna know
nownownownownow

all the things
whisper thier truths
into me

in time

is gonna be
the death of me

full spiral
- once again -

lying in the grass
thinking of Drink Me bottles
and rabbit holes
to lose myself in

cradling
star suicide

matching wristlets
carved with capitals
of other...

but under scarmantle
flow fathomless
immortal sprawls

exclamation
shaken cores

churning metallic
until forged

how ever much mad I had
was only to surmount
treacherous Everest
of sad

my legit fist?
not kissed
not allowed for
not bloomed

and you want me
to peddle sunshine...

we need real talk
real friendship
real space
to heal
to grow

we both
need to learn
how to unscorch ground
spawn our own groves
of shimmersun

or else handsheld
turn quickly
to fingers slipped

beggars starved
with empty cups
nothing to pour from

you can't build a palace
on top of a landfill
without first

cleaning up

if high contrast
juxtaposed

equals equilibrium seesawed

like our yin and yang
69 the ****

into each other

balancing
complementary

perhaps not
but finding out

would be an awfully
big adventure

how many times
have we about-faced
and walked away?

I mean,
here I am
pt. IV

because every time
I think it's the end

there he is

with something
to blow my mind
and leave my jaw
on the floor