sometimes i am emotionally unavailable on purpose.

i put my phone under my pillow so i can't hear it beep and buzz and twang
i turn off my facebook chat and ignore your messages.
i don't even do it because i can't handle it
i can handle anything
i was born with an innate sense of determination
and morality
but sometimes i feel the need to be an unattached *******
just to see what it's like

i'll go on youtube and watch ****** videos
i'll even laugh
when i know that somewhere you're feeling like i do all the time
i won't give a single ****
not even a tiny pang will reach my carefully wired heart
right now it's plugged into too many other things that are ******* the energy out of it
to take note

i hope you feel ******* terrible
i'm not even bothered
i will be later
but not now
message away...

la,
la
can't hear you,
can't hear you.

go ahead and say it.

unsure, like slowly breaking
              daylight, realization
              sneaks in around
the corners,            here, i sit, still;
                                blind and idiotic and
           so **** unsure.
moving in slow frames, bystanding certainties' presentations,
                                                                        maybe i need this.
  maybe i need you more than anything.
but,

how
could
  you ever need me, darling?

my replacing takes part by small
designs. displacements accumulate,
until some day you look
out the window or
breathe to check you're still
alive; and, like that,
this weight will be gone.
this burden, effortlessly
dissipating.
this lament reaches from all hollows.

'cause you only reap from seeds
sown, right? it never
rained once.

you know, though,
i, likewise, never threw a single one down,
and instead just bit my tongue,
carrying out schematic emptinesses.
these hollows fill out and
encompass the entire world;

at the focus of everything,
i act out absolutes
and do nothing at all.

these new fields still look
burnt. i still turn soil, hoping for
salvation.
what if it rains?
will i cope?
will i drown?

Every night before I rest my head
I strip myself down until I am bare;
What's mine is His
So with Him I share.
I lie myself down across the bed and prepare to implement my prayers so that we may be intimate.
He enters me, penetrating my entirety
He relies on me
I ride on His serenity
Until He releases all of the devil's ties incising me
He restrains my frame and forces me to refrain from dancing in the flame
Cast by my demons.
Like draining,
He empties me
Of all residual sin remaining within
He comes
Into the heart of my soul
And we console each other.
Whispers,
Heavy breathing,
Until Amen
We continue on conceiving
Until I am whole again.
He smothers my heaving chest
With His Love
His Love
He covers me, in the midst of
His love,
He puts me to rest.

the holidays are rolling around and i am determined to be ok
i will not write poetry about how much i miss my un-broken family
i will continue on as if nothing happened
if i do it long enough maybe i will believe it
maybe i won't have to burn my arms to jolt me back to reality
maybe things will be ok

good things come of it?
good things already have.
i'm just waiting for the good
to out weight the bad

Its mornings like this,
when I wake up and the skies are black,
when the rain streams from the sky and thunder shakes the earth,
that I feel the heart wrenching ache of loneliness.

I miss the arms that used to snake around my waist at 3:30 in the morning after a terrifying nightmare
and the warm body that pressed snugly into mine during winter.

How you would lean into my neck
breathe me in like a summer wine,
and then sigh.
I miss the tear that occasionally fell to my cheek from your eyes,
when the thought of losing me crossed your mind.

How your fingers would suddenly intertwine with mine at the strangest of times
and you would look at me, not a word was uttered,
you said it all with your eyes.

The way you held me when we kissed,
the way you played with my hair,
the taste of your smile,
your sea green eyes,
your laugh,
the feel of your skin.

Your heartbeat in synchronization with mine.

I miss the colour in my life, the colour of you.

You pulled long wings from my back to my ribs-
deep passion inscriptions and hieroglyphs
with your nails as I whispered unholy
prayers into your ears with your mouth closed.
I tripped into your superstition that started with a kiss
outside your door after midnight,
pressing my shoulder blades into the palm of your hands.
You said you didn't try any games.
I said I didn't like to play.

Be careful, supernova, you'll burn out.

I attacked you right from the start.
"Shut up, would ya!" you'd say with a smile,
laughing when I'd scream back at the television commercials
when they'd ask me stupid questions.
I drove you insane.
But when you'd fall asleep I'd trace your eyelids
like crop circles with my fingertips,
making a thin bridge over your nose
connecting pinpoints like constellations.
Sometimes I'd ask you to read the stories
that you wrote on my skin.
You'd pass the message along through your lips
gently against mine the way a shadow sits
on a figure.
I'd sigh when your hands skipped over
the space between my thighs.

Be careful, supernova, you'll burn out.

I took a chance on you.
You didn't bid on me.
I guess it's true that some things
burn too bright.