disrupted slumber
I finally
thought
what I've been
dreading
to think
for quite some time
now.
whether it's
the truth or not
I've yet to
discover
but this tormented state
usually has a way
of lasting.

Although you've locked yourself away
and your whole world has turned to gray
I hope your mind has settled down
and you no longer feel you're bound.
I hope the seraphs in the sky
give you lessons on how to fly
and even though we are apart
I pray that you still cross your heart;
that you'll not try to follow me
and you forever hesitate to be
another angel in the sky:
one that's clueless on how to fly.

He will tell his
brown-haired, green-eyed sweetheart
"you are the most beautiful girl in the world"
and hopefully she won't believe him
hopefully she'll think of a few months
maybe years
from now
when they're distant from each other
with loose strands of broken bandages
between them
and he's calling
a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl
the most beautiful girl in the world
instead

hopefully she'll spare herself
the false truth
faster than
I did.

did I break your heart in to
I'll buy you a broom
help you sweep the shards up
but I won't assist in
gluing the pieces back together

that's the way I am
I guess:
I will love you
until I realize
that you love me
--then you're on
your own.

We drove for miles
through the Utah desert,
past the Rocky Mountains
and looked at cities
swimming by in a bokeh blur--
I fell asleep to him softly
humming to an unknown song
while we traveled below
the stars.

We stopped at a diner,
ate clammy pancakes
that weren't worth the wait
but we made the best of it
admiring the authentic view
and pointing out
newfound places in the ghetto
that didn't exist around home.

I woke up in the backseat
to the sound of a scenic
rest-stop stream
and gazed at the mountains
towering over me:
silhouettes against the
starry midnight sky.

In the following afternoon
we scaled plateaus
as tall as God
with a view of which made me
want to die
within that very heaven.

We survived for thirty hours on
junk food,
gas stations, rest-stops,
each other's music
and cramped, makeshift beds.

Looking back,
I would give anything
for another thirty hours
in that car.

I would notice the differences
between each place we stopped
ten times more.

I would close my eyes
to cherish those pictures in my head.

I would write a better poem about it all.

Gloomy weather effects people
more than
sunshine-y weather,
maybe because rain drops
hit the ground harder
than sun rays do.
The ground being our
literal separation from
hell,
it is a fragile barrier that assists
in carrying me to you,
and with the ground soaking wet from
a naturally reoccurring water cycle,
I am bound to slip.
It will take me longer
to reach you and your smile,
warm like those bright days
the human race is
so fond of,
and because of this--
because of the extended
length of time it takes
for lovers to reach sunny,
entangled, tender future-memories,
people are wary of
Mother Nature's bad moods.

Today I woke up to you breathing softly on my shoulder; your eyes were closed, though they fluttered when I kissed your temple gently.
You shifted, parted your cracked lips in a sigh as you drifted back towards slumber, and I do recall wondering how on earth you don't see yourself as one of a kind: entirely extraordinary to every impossible extent.

they appear more frequently
now:
your sad eyes
and I seem to be
the cause
more and more often
God, how have I kept
you this long
even with pierced
fingernails
circling your neck
and chains weighing
my palm down
to the ground
farther and farther away
from your tears
how are you still
mine?

I saw a girl
in the park
today
she was wearing
aviators
to cover her
eyes
but I knew they were
beautiful

loose strands
of blonde hair
curled around her neck
and her T-shirt
had a bad word
on it
but a bad influence
was the last phrase
I had in mind
to describe her

I bet she listens to bands
no one's ever heard of
and maybe cries herself
to sleep at night
when she thinks no one
can hear

she probably wants to
travel
she probably wants something
extraordinary
an adventure
something that isn't
me
but I'm okay with that

I didn't expect anything
anyways.

I can't sleep tonight
but I'm dreaming of you
and it's 12:51 AM
I'm so upset because you're my only
safe haven and yet
you're so faraway
at 12:52 AM

my heart is split in half:
one half is with you in your bed
across town
while the other is broken
and yet to be found

God you don't know
how much I love you
and even I don't think
I can piece it all together
but ****,
do I really have to try now
at 12:55 AM?
can't I shut down my brain
like the rest of the city has already
and figure it out when the sun is shining?

It's 12:58 AM
and the Klonopin is kicking in
these words are swirling
and I'm fighting it because
I need to finish these conscious thoughts of you--
who knows what I'll conjure up
when my eyes are closed?
all I know is
I won't stop loving you
not at 1:02 AM
or God knows when

I'm coming back to you my love
though first if you don't mind
I'll close my eyes and
drift away to Slumberland

keep your half of my heart safe
in your bed
while I'm gone,
won't you?

Lover I am yours and you are mine
and I will love you 'til the end of time
but I can no longer deny (I can't deny)
I'm diseased, I was conceived
under the blood of night.

This balcony is cold so can we please go inside?
Love, I'm not a fan of this game of seek and hide
I see you in the shadows hunting for a soul to sell
but Lover, are you not aware that we're already in Hell?

I'm falling, I'm falling, I'm screaming out your name
I warned you that this balcony was only cold and grey
It's got secrets I wish I could scream etched beneath its skin
it was the final surface of a jumper, crazed as hell by all his sins.

Lover I am yours and you are mine
and I will love you 'til the end of time
but I'm afraid my time is all used up
so with that, my love, I wish you the best of luck.

He fell in love
with a poet
and prayed for a meaning
to her words
but God, her insight
overpowered
what was their's
and soon her words
were gone;
so was
she.

If walls could talk
they would say I dream of you
much too often,
and if corners could speak
they would pour over the fact that
I spend too much time beside them,
writing words I'll never show a soul,
and if stars could holler down to earth
they would announce just how many times
I've turned to them,
wishing for talking walls and corners

--solely so I could remain
an introvert.

Depression is not
beautiful, though it can make
one hell of a poem.

I'm depressed, Baby
but that's what every teenager says
these days
who knows if they
truly have the slightest clue
of that neverending
emptiness, how it
swallows                                                                  
you,
hallows                                                                    
you out
until you're the spitting image of
your worst nightmare
while it grabs you

tighter,                                                                    
pins you

d                                                                  
o                                                              
w                                                                
  n                                                            

with a ******* ferocity that even Hades himself could not endure.
This illness makes you
weak,
makes you
bleed out all of the strength
that's left in your wilted form

if there was any in the first place                              

and it won't be satisfied
until every inch of your mind is infected
with pure venom
lovely poison.

You'd expect that with an illness
treating you so **** awfully,
it'd throw you away in a heartbeat
like the trash it wants you to call yourself,
but instead it
sticks by your side
morphs itself into your own head

you won't know which thoughts are yours*            

and it becomes your
buoy,
the only constant
in your temporary
life
the only thing
you can
count on

unfortuantely
enough.

People are dying
children are crying
and Mommy's weeping
while Daddy's sleeping
then there's me:
too scared to flee
so I'm stuck here
in an atmosphere
that's filled with death;
why can't I rest?
The clock is ticking
as I am thinking
and my heart pounds
as gunshot sounds
and with every beat
I think I'll meet
the heavens.

I refuse to believe in the mere thought
that I will wake up tomorrow feeling
like my body has survived one thousand
hits, one thousand bruises, because God knows
surviving first consists of living, and
He and I both know I've just barely lived.
We both know existing is the closest
I'll ever be to feel fully alive.

It's as if Satan came and took my soul
that was once wrapped in innocence and hope,
tore it apart, left it ****** and raw,
sprinkled salt on my bare and open wound,
sealed it with anger and euphoric pain,
returned it to my body, ordered it
to destroy me from the inside out, and
watched me--earnestly--cave in like a corpse.

If you persist to be mine,
I hope you enjoy the smell of rain;
I hope you take pride in
A love for Disney movies,
And I hope we can go
Antique shopping
And perhaps discover unknown caves
Against the ocean's tide.

If you persist to be mine
I'll dream of having tea--
Or coffee, if you prefer--
In our cozy apartment
On the coldest winter days.

I'll dream of taking walks
Under overcast skies;
We'll travel down Haight
And breathe in the
Friendly atmosphere.

If you persist to be mine
I will gladly be yours
And we'll create faint memories
Beneath the California sky.

You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
in ways that I am forced to keep inside
because once they are physically spoken,
it seems as if they are inadequate descriptions
of how I really feel.

You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
like how one cannot fathom
each constellation
and how every star plays its
significant role,
like how one refuses to decipher
the ringing of their guitar
as the sound fades into that of
energized atoms
which make up the air around
each vibration.

You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
in ways that are too grand
for as average a mind as mine,
although I hope to have enough time
to wrap my head around
the idea of being complete
*--if there ever comes such a day.

When will it happen?
What will happen?
Will I
enforce                        
it,
wish                            
for it,
expect                          
it?

Will I experience a
whitehotfierypain,                        
consume my final moments in
a furious anguish,                            
barely able to come up for
one last intake of sweet oxygen,
a barely audible 'goodbye'?

Will I become so comfortably
numb,                                                  
hear static imagination collide with
sudden reality
as I slowly glide into
my eternal oblivion,
all with one slow
smile?                                                  

**How will I succumb to Death's cold embrace?

I find peace in the
sunrise on this eastern coast--
it doesn't last long.

Looked in the mirror
knew I was drunk 'cause my face
was a pretty one.

Oh, I love you,
wish you well,
hope and pray
that life ain't hell
for your pretty eyes.

'Cause there's a devil in disguise
'round this town,
hides in buildings
broken down,
So Baby, don't you dare
go where
the sun don't shine.

Keep your heart safe
'cause the devil's taken mine.
Oh God, he's taken mine.

[chorus:]
I'm falling
down, down where
no light lives there--I'm scared
Baby, but let me go
I know
you'll come out of this alive.
Oh Darling, you'll be fine.

What doesn't **** you
builds you up
--the rest would ****
to make a couple bucks--
but you've got eyes
to guide you up,

and when it feels
like you could give a **** less
I hope, I pray
that you confess
the fears that drag you down
from this town.

And with poison in our lungs,
sorrow on our tongues,
we'll say goodbye
yeah, we'll fly,
but for now
I'm falling

[2nd chorus:]
down, down where
no light lives there--I'm scared
Baby, but let me go
I know
you can make it out alive.
Oh Darling, you'll be fine.

I'm hearing you scream
from across the room
Oh, I wish I didn't have to
go so soon
But Lover, my last advice to you
is to close your pretty eyes
hide them from the devil in disguise.

Yeah, he's still roamin'
'round this town
so keep your distance--
he's vicious now;
He's got his own eyes on
why I sacrificed
myself, myself.

[chorus:]
I'm falling
down, down where
no light lives there--I'm scared
Baby, but let me go
I know
you'll come out of this alive.
Oh Darling, you'll be--

[2nd chorus:]
I'm falling
down, down where
no light lives there--I'm scared
Baby, but let me go
I know
you can make it out alive.
Oh Darling, you'll be fine.

You'll be fine.
Oh Lover, you'll survive.

I folded your hoodie neatly
set it in a brown paper bag
addressed to you

it doesn't have
the smell of your cologne
anymore
--it probably smells like dryer sheets
and fresh towels.

The last time it smelled like you
was the beginning of september
the only thing comforting me
when I walked down those
white, unfamiliar halls

I really hope that you don't notice
the absence of those red laces
looped through the neck of it
--the nurses wouldn't allow any strings
(shoelaces, lanyards,                                                      
others of the like)                                                          
because potential nooses
are a hazard to my health
                      (who knew?)                                        

I held so tightly to that hoodie
each night I slept in a plastic cot
                            (four nights. four.)                              
and even after your smell faded
even after its embrace simmered down to something so faint,
it was still my only comfort:
a shining beacon
in the gray fog of my hazy mind

I'm finally returning it
to you
and along with it,
the safety embedded in each stitch

I just really hope you don't realize
the absence of those red laces
looped through the neck of it;
it's not what's missing
that's important
but the way it kept me
from giving in
at my lowest point.