I am fire in a lake
I am ice in the sun
I am everything
And nothing
All at once.
I am nothing more than
A girl in the crowd
Nothing more than
A bag of skin,
Blood
And bones
Beneath the clouds.
I live several versions of myself
I am a friend
A sister
A daughter
I am me.

IV. Crimson

It's not about the way it hurts--
it's about the way I bleed,
the way my skin
splits and geysers.

A deluge of red
leaches from pale, marred arms,
adheres to cotton sleeves
like a seething tentacle
affixed to the stern of a ship
(when I get home from school and undress,
my skin will peel away
with the rest of my clothes.)

But at the first sign of healing,
I will take my razor blade from
wherever I've hidden it
(Under my bra strap,
pressed between the
mattress and the box spring,
tucked inside the alcove
of a hollowed-out book)
and tear myself anew,
watch with morbid tranquillity
as tidal waves of crimson
surge from my veins
as they threaten to destroy
the very body from
which they were birthed.

(And this is how the drowning begins.)

V. Ethereal

Maybe being drunk
is the closest I will
ever get to zero gravity--
to walking on the moon.

My fingers curled
around the neck of a liquor bottle,  
I wander to my bedroom window,
as a tipsy weightlessness settles
amongst my limbs
(and my thoughts).

Swaying slightly,
I part the curtains and,
in my intoxicated stupor,
search for Polaris in the night sky,
point to it,
press a clumsy hand to the glass,
convince myself that
I have captured the star,
and all the omniscient power
it possesses,
beneath my finger tips.

Star light,

{lips pant--
inebriated,
heavy}

star bright,

{my breath appears a catalyst
as the window pane glazes over
in an impenetrable paroxysm of fog}

first star I see tonight,

{I take a swig,
raise the bottle--
a toast
to the cosmos}

I wish I may,

{Lashes meet in
silent matrimony}

I wish I might,

{Behind closed, desperate eyes,
ribbons of colour dance
towards me in a disoriented jig}

have this wish I wish tonight--

to be
obliterated by the very galaxy
that birthed
these grieving bones
and this tumultuous heart.

Because only then--
as the Gods paint the Night
with the innards of my soul,
acrylic purples
churning against the blackness--
will I become what I
have always dreamed
of becoming:

Lovely.

Ethereal.

i'm locked inside a prison cell,
but instead of metal bars to keep from escaping
i got thoughts
because my prison is my mind
and i've done some bad ****
so conscious is making me do the time

and as much as i try to forget
what a terrible person i am
i can't
because all i see is a girl in strips when i look in the mirror

i'm trapped in my mind

lets go to the cafeteria
instead of eating this slop they pass out
i simply just, pass out
id rather starve then eat the lies i'm shoving down my own throat
but if these lies are in my head
haven't i already accepted them?

you think because i smile
i'm doing "ok"?
no i'm not
but maybe if i play by the rules

i'll get out for good behavior

please tell me this idiot is my bail out

Tears of the memories we made
Tears of the smiles that will fade
Tears of the forgotten and of the fierce
Please give me those years

Tears
And
Tears of ink: bleeding from my pen
Bleeding like blood
Of wondering when

Tears
And tears of rain
pouring from my window
and pouring from my pain.

Tears and
Tear Stains of water splattered
And stains of heartbreak you never thought mattered

Tears
And tears

Bleeding and washing and cleaning
Hopefully erasing those
Years and that meaning.

Tears
And tears.

Never fulfilling forgetting my fears

There goes Lady Fate,
donned in solar sparks
and her lace corset
whose  overt promiscuity
catches the attention of
one unsuspecting astronaut–
his helm fogs as he exhales,
his breath crude and lascivious.
Even Neptune’s eyes themselves
glitter wetly with passion
as she struts towards Polaris in
her pinprick stilettos.

She adjusts her stance accordingly:

I. Purse lips into a smoulder
(might as well look
pretty while ya get the job done.)

II. Aim for the desired target
(that there’s the bull’s eye.)

III. Wreak havoc
just as any Fate is meant to do.
(But, of course.)

She picks up her staff and fires.

The universe tremors
in an unbridled spiral
of colour and chaos
as the planets
d    a    r    t
about like billiards,                                    
                          colliding/|\with/|\ the/|\ stars

who,  in the midst of the madness,
d i v e r g e and c r* o* s s
for fear of being vanquished.

A cluster of mismatched constellations
and forsaken cosmic particles
settle into a state of
mutual negligence and destruction.
And, together, they liquefy into
a festering pool of molten silver.

Lady Fate grins–
yes, she has the stars right
where she wants them now–
and, in a final act of defiance,
she strikes against the earth
and watches with satisfaction as
it hurtles towards the silver
and sinks down into the molten
like an eight ball.
(And everyone knows it’s
Game Over
once you’ve sunk the eight ball).

From where she stands–
bent over Polaris
in seductive pretentiousness —
she relishes
in the screams
of some wretched lover–
the first to ever be
betrayed by the stars.

Teary eyes, heavy chest.

Burning anxiety, trouble breathing.

Hours feel like days, days feel like years.

He's close, yet so far..

His eyes, so hard to ignore.

My cries to be understood, failing.

Am I asking too much?

A moment alone, and I wonder..

Summer's on it's end, are we too?