The rising of a sun,
glossing over every dewy leaf,
and my heart had been broken by a thief.

Blue skies illuminated by a golden god,
proudly hanging above,
and she starts cursing love.

Gently wisped clouds gliding,
cumulating and growing,
and my happiness is slowing.

Eagles soar higher,
animals prowling low to the ground,
and she's above water yet still she's being drowned.

The sun is setting,
the sky starts crying,
and my poetry is dying.

i am a lot of things
to you
i may read as an
amateur poet
perfecting her art
to my parents i am
their failure
their too much and not enough
their daughter who acts
their "why do you fake everything?"
their "why don't you sing anymore?"
their "how long have you been smoking ****?"
their "i'm disappointed in you"
their "i knew you were going to be a ****"
their "bisexuality is *******
why is everything with you for attention?"
their "why can't you be perfect like your brother?"
their "pretend you're happy or cry in your room"
their "cry in your pillow i don't want to hear that"
their "why must you fake every ******* thing?
if you want to act audition for plays
i don't want your ******* in my house"
but i only fake happy
the joy that lights my face
everywhere but my hollow
eyes
and you see, they are only hollow
and dark
because i walk the shadows
with my left foot stretching out
in front of me
i've walked the shadows my whole life
with a cane on my back
and blood etched into my chest
you see i
am a **** victim
there i said it
what i've denied for so long
in hopes that i could be strong
and carry on
and just get over it
like i was told i should
but i cannot trust anyone
or anything
because he always said
my 9 and 10 and 11
year old body
was appeasing
so what do i do now
now that i am a young woman
who's growing into these
"great things" he always said i had
but i never had
not then
and i know you will hurt
me too
i know you will hurt
me too
but maybe this is just a
nightmare
perhaps i am a butterfly
and my PTSD is just a jar
or could it be that i am
not real was never
real
because i do not feel
real
i shrink from my own skin
because your handprints are still there
i am a walking skeleton
afraid of having a body
yet i yearn to have a body
but i only wish
you did not have eyes
god do i hate the fact that men can see me
because i can see the despicable things
that rack their lustful vision
tear my feathers
clip my wings
pour bleach on them
make sure it stings
2 years later
not a second goes by that
i did not eye
every suspicious man
who followed me when i walked
and i started to get over it
it wouldn't happen again
i repeated
every
single night before my eyes closed
and you stomped through my dreams
cutting all of my seams
i was 13
the day he offered me a drink
and some ****
and of course i obliged
because i know him
i know him
i see him every day
and his flesh is plenty real
he is real
and i wonder
if he stole my real
when he stole everything else
i drank until the bottom of the bottle
looked like a pool of blood
i could sink into
i smoked until my throat
was black and charred
like all of my unworthy pieces
burnt until they are ash
he told me
words i can never scrape out of my ears
out of my head
i want them out of my head
they are pills i digested
that stuck to my kidney
my body never forgave me
"i am only here
to get you drunk and *******
but i'm not doing that this time"
and now i live in constant fear
*** you a cigarette and a light
so i don't have to hear
your voice crackle like a fire
that burns too high
it scalds me
i am a lot of things
and i do believe
that weak
is not one of them.

i change the pronouns
in my poetry
from me
to her
and no
do not be mistaken
i am not her
and she is not me
i do not know this lost girl
yet i do understand her

i have dreams of her
she has eyes that scream
with bags sinking beneath
plump with everything
that she
hides
her hair is unkempt and wild
she tells me her only goal
is to finally be as free and wild
as the drooping loops
her skin is porcelain
and i fear that i might drop her
that my rough touch will not soothe
and that she will break

her cracked lips part
and she says her name is
Anjelica
a pretty name
yet seemingly
too clean for the broken doll

bruise is a pretty shade on her
she has red scars
that chase the dip of her back
and
her voice fills any empty room
as though she is
fighting for a place to speak
as though she is
fighting the silence

i walked slowly and uncertainly
to her room
my feet moving out of instinct
dancing along a cobblestone path
with white cherry blossom petals
scattered like my rambling thoughts
i reach her door
and place a shaking hand on the ****
i twist it and pull it open
moving slowly and cautiously
as not to wake her up
but i am afraid that
she looks even more
damaged
when she is asleep
i reach my arm over her
and she stirs
her stained mattress heaves
as though it's carrying
a burden much heavier than she

her eyelids blink open
and her cracked lips part
as she asks if i'm here for cigarettes
i apologize repetitively
quietly
softly
because i am scared of anger
and she says it's okay
and that she understands
but darling i do not think
your mind could comprehend
how i need them
how i need them to breathe
how they are the air that i breathe
how i breathe them much more simply

i leave with the cigarettes
tucked in my dress
a burn in my hand
and i leave
my dear Anjelica behind
to the destruction of her dreams
and i must confess
i am haunted by memories
and i hoped she held the key

i changed the pronouns in my poetry
from me to she
and i swear they are not about me
but i see myself scrawled in the ink

i still have dreams of her
but she's different now
renewed somehow
¿happy perhaps?
that's quite the stretch
her eyes no longer scream
rather they sing of
daylight and bubble gum kisses
the dark circles
that had burrowed under
her eyes
were uprooted
and gone
her smile is wider
and genuine
her teeth no longer reek of
cyanide
and paper cuts
her lips no longer curl sadly
around each punchline
rather they wrap around each word that
exits my chapped lips
her lips are no longer
chapped
instead they are soft and whole and healthy

she straightened her hair
and chopped it to her
shoulders
as though each of her problems
dropped
with her delicate curls
as though her past would be as lost
and as irretrievable as her hair
she tells me
that she's never felt
better
and i know that her kind of better
is dropping everything and running
and turning into a cold brick
because once you're a brick
the only pain you can feel is when your bones
chip
i fear i've lost
my dear, Anjelica
to this destructive
"better"

she straightened her hair
she straightened her hair
she straightened her hair
and it's cookie cutter straight now
chalkboard flat somehow
she keeps it on her shoulders
her eyes don't scream
and in my dreams
i see us dancing but
this is not a dream anymore
who am i to escape to
now that my dear, Anjelica
has a light gleaming in her eye
and that same eye
is whispering to me of
dreams
dreams
dreams
and life
wonderful colorful life
and she tells me
that her favorite color is
yellow
because it symbolizes
hope
and i begin to realize
that perhaps she is
"better"
and perhaps this is for the
"better"

but i am selfish
and i am petrified that
i do not understand
this new
Anjelica
this happy
Anjelica
i do not know her
she was the only one i knew
and now i am
simply lost
for how can i
write
about a stranger?
i am the
stranger

she paints yellow flowers
on her window
and she lies down
and she sleeps
as i sit there
i see that
one thing has remained
the same:
she still looks
damaged
in her sleep

her skin is soft like flower petals
and it smells like
cigarettes and Nag Champa
her hair is always
sitting on her head
in a loose looking tight bun
and her makeup is always
less is more
and her teeth poke out from
behind her pink lips
with a smile
and a laugh
she tells me she laughs just like her sister
but an octave higher
and i want to tell her
that her laugh is beautiful
and hers alone
but she would not listen if
i said that

her skin is soft
and my hands shakily caress it
and i know my palms are cold and clammy
and sweaty
but she says nothing
and so i say nothing
and we sit in the silence
of waiting for the other
to speak
but her lips curl up
and over her teeth
and she smiles at me
with her yellow-cigarette stained
canines
and she tells me
she feels beautiful today
she feels okay today
but she does not really
and i can see it from the way
her almond eyes stare into mine
as though she is digging
my heart out
so that she can take a bite
as though she is scavenging me
for my okay
for my beautiful
but, anjelica
she is my okay
and my beautiful
and she holds
my happy
in the palm of her empty cupped hand

and she tells me she wants to shrink
she wants to fade into the black
as though the only something she hears
from my mouth
anymore
screams to be attacked
and i try to help her
and she told me she was better
but i know that her better
is turning into a cold brick
and she turned into a cold brick
and now she is stuck
unable to move
unable to scream
and she tries to move
as i had tried to save her
but i cannot save someone
that doesn't want to be saved
but ****** i wanted to save
her

my dear anjelica hides now
she hides behind the chopped bangs
that cloud her eyes
she hides behind her newfound slang
and her pile of lies
and she lies to me
she cannot tell me
her thoughts
she says that they are too
scary
and that they even scare her
but what i find the scariest
is my fear of losing her
and if she cannot speak to me
how do i refrain from losing her
she is like a cherry tree
blossoming under the suns beating rays
and losing petals
as harsh winds blow
and i am standing here
waiting for her to grow
waiting for this to grow
into something more than
strictly nothing

i wrap my fingers
around her wrist
and pull
because there is more of a world
to show her
than she would like to see
and i tell her
that she will be safe with me
but she does not believe me
for how can you be safe
when you aren't even safe by yourself
i do not want to whisper
sweet nothings in her ear
i want us to speak somethings
because all we are is nothing
all we are is nothing
but my dear anjelica
i want her to be my something

she is the world
and she holds much more in her hands
then she could ever imagine
and her skin
smells like cigarettes and Nag Champa
and i wonder if she loves the smell
as much as i do

she numbs the smell of cigarettes
with bleach and tears
and she tells me that she doesn't know why
she cries at night
but i know that there's something
that hides behind the light
as her shaking hand reaches out
to flip the switch
i know that she is scared
i ask her what she is thinking
and her lips freeze in an o
and she tells me she's uncomfortable
and that her thoughts are made of nightmares
and codeine mixed with seroquel
and blood on her favorite t-shirt
and she's too scared to tell me
why
her lips are chapped and peeling
her eyes are screaming
so loud that
i can hear it ringing in my ears
and she asks if i can hear them singing too

anjelica says she likes to play games
and she tells me we can have fun
but where is the fun
when she's always just about to run
she asks me to dance
dance
and i realize she never had any chance
to save herself
and my mind says how i should have saved her
i see her in my dreams
and i don't see the cherry tree
along the cobblestone walkway anymore
rather i see dead roses
scattered across a dirt path
and the roses are painted with blood

anjelica screams my name
she asks if i still write about her
she asks if i still love her
she begs to know if i still know her
she tells me she stopped loving me
she tells me she never knew herself
she tells me she tears my poetry because it is
too real
and i realize my dear anjelica
is not
real

she is a thorn i would
bury into my own chest
so that she is near my heart
she smells like cigarettes and bleach
there are tears that stain her cheeks
and mascara that runs down her face

what's wrong with me
i hear her say
and i would love
to tell her that
she is perfection
in the form of a mortal
but i say nothing
and she says nothing
and i can feel the silence
weighing on my head
and it weighs her hair back into curls
and my mind shouts
to know why we do
nothing
i beg the world for something
she tells me she is not alive
and i realize once again
she is not real
anjelica will forever fill my poetry
but anjelica does not
speak

she does not speak to me
unless she needs
more air to breathe
she does not speak to me
she looks at my eyes
with her burning eyes
and we create a new language
that neither of us know
she says she is okay
and she is not okay
she is broken like a lamp
that has fallen off a building that touches the sky
she is not real
anjelica exists only
in my poetry
but she consumes my thoughts
with her charred lungs.

i find it insane
how our bodies do things without
our permission
like when you touch me
my heartbeat quickens
and when you look at me
my hands start sweating
and i do not know
why this happens
but when you look at my eyes
and you say that the sky is blue
my fingers tremble to capture you
and to trace the way your lips move
to sculpt your face
with my hands
and write about the way your tongue rolls
on certain words
and describe your gentle eyes
with syllables that i cannot pronounce
without attempting to copy you
and my legs shake when we walk
because the way you talk
makes me believe you
and i doubt anything you say is true
but i can't exactly control what i do
and trust me i am a feather on a big wing
i am a simple ripple in a massive wave
but i love the way your eyes shake
and i love the way your heart quakes
and i love the way you move
when i whisper your name
and you whisper mine
and it feels like we've found a rhythmic tide
and it feels like i can finally
capture something that exists
on more than the inside of my gut
and i feel like
i can finally dig myself out of this rut
and your hand will be there to pull me up
but
i doubt you understand
and frankly i don't at all
but once upon a time someone
said i would fall
and i suppose they didn't mean literally
and i should have known
you wouldn't be there
to catch me
but with eyes like crystals
i trick myself into seeing through you
and seeing into you
and i want to move you
the way you throw my mind
like i am a doll soaked in ink
like i am not what you thought i was
explain to me how to fall in love
so i can never fall in love
because the idea that i could
love you unconditionally terrifies me
and i want to hide
inside a novel i wrote
about a girl who could speak
and when she finally needed to
she choked
i want to hide behind the words i scream
and i want to find someone new
someone else that i can
whisper their name to
someone else that i can
say i love you to
and yet i find myself screaming at you
screaming for you
and i can't comprehend
why i let you in
why i let you see parts of me
that i do not even know
and i want to know
why i believed in you
why i trusted you
why i felt for you
why i hurt for you
why i cared for you
you showed me something
i could never see and yet
i wish i had never met you
i wish i could unsee all of these things
and unsay all of these words
i wish i could lie and say it didn't hurt
i hope one day you will hurt
but i cannot wish pain upon someone
who hurts so badly
you walk so sadly
i wish i could give you love
i wish i could give you infinite joy
but alas, you can only see
what is in your fingers
right before it turns into someone else's sight
someone else's light
and i cannot comprehend
why i ever thought i could be yours.

9/26/17

i am the elephant
on the couch that
nobody wants to confront
i am the lipstick stain
on an unwashed shot glass that
reminds you of your first love
i am the smell of cigarettes and singed hair and bleach and ***** vomits
on an indigo floor tile that
you don't want to clean up-
you like the smell too much
i am the sting of poison
on your tongue that
drifts down your leather studded throat
i am the spiderweb scars
on your skin-drawn with such a delicacy to detail-that
makes you crawl back to me
i am the echoes in the caves
on your broken record mind that
you love with a burning desire to hate
i am la fin
on your favorite movie that
you want to live inside
i am the nightmare
on the left side of your bed that
you seek for companionship in
i am the bad ideas
or the good ideas
i am the everything
or the nothing
i am the end
or the beginning
i am the hope
or the violence
i am the last love
or the first
i am the possibilities
or the infeasibilities
i am the predicament
or the solution
or just you
and you,
you want all of it
or none of it
what a dilemma.

i would love to feel your eyes
dragging across my skin
like they are knives
because they look and feel
like knives
dragging across each of my scars
sometimes when i cry
i can feel pain from
where i self harmed
and i know my body is
hungry for it
but at first i only self harmed
because somebody
with daggers for eyes
found them ugly and
his eyes no longer
dragged on my body
and his hands
stopped tearing me
limb
from
limb
and you scream
attention *****
lonely girl
attention *****
and i cry
when i feel you
stare
but i laugh
because nothing is
there
but my self afflictions
and your eyes
are the reason
i sleep with the
lights off
because you cannot
see the sword's blade
in the
dark

the light pitter-patter
of falling rain
echoes in my fingers
and numbs my tongue
as i stare in the broken
mirror
that holds my reflection
almost as well as your glazed
eyes
and i can feel the numb
of the sharp biting cold
and i can hear the echo
of your cracked voice

in you i crash
i'm a plane that's lost its engine
and you are the soft plain
in which i land upon

in you i fall
and by fall i mean in love
i fell in love with you
i was the tree alone in a forest
with nobody there to hear me
that toppled over
and believe me my crushing bones
made a sound

in you i break
a sentimental wave
that just tears me down
like a deteriorating building
that would stumble
with a push of a palm
but for you
it was the crack in your voice
it was the crash of your belief
it was the disappointment in your eyes
it was the fall of us

i could have diminished
with the snap
of your fingers
not because you controlled me
rather
my love for you
controlled my body

and i hear the echoes
that scream over every
feeling i have for you
every feeling
that reminds me of you
the echoes of your voice
your laugh
your shouts

i try to forget
and believe me do i try
but i feel as though
i shall never forget
you have cast a shadow
upon my heart
that can never disappear
because as i may
feel in the dark
others around me
shine their light
and ever so easily
does your memory
appear
and shroud me to believe
all of the

negative

empty stomachs
empty unsettled stomachs
stomachs that twist and curve
like the back roads
that stretch across the land
and wind around
each and every hill
each and every bank

empty stomachs
empty growling stomachs
stomachs that scream and whine
like the demons
that crowd your mind
and scream in your eardrum
each and every pain
each and every degradation

empty stomachs
empty shrinking stomachs
stomachs that
like the roadsides
that are littered by trash
and shrink like your stomach
each and every bottle
each and every morsel

i am the worn pavement
on a historic town's
back roads
i am the dust
that you coat on your
memories
i am the smell of singed hair and nightmares
the smell that makes your stomach curl
i am the taste of ***** and choked tears
the taste that drips on your lips like a poison
i am the yellow bruises and nail marks
that decorate your skin
from pinching too hard
i am the gentle soothing voice
begging you to die
i am the ***** that sifts
down your throat
with a burn that you
find pleasurable
i am the smoke you inhale
into your throat
with a burn that you
find pleasurable
i am the reason you can't eat
and your stomach curls up in a smile
and shakes slowly
and tells me how empty it is
your empty stomach
screams for the help
you only dream of.

the oil bubbles under my skin
and i am sinful
he whispers, "baby, sin for me"
and i grin because he has no idea
what fire he has just lit
and i make sure he is
sure
because there is no going back
once the tornado i am is released
from it's butterfly cage
and he smirks and whispers,
"baby, have i ever been uncertain
when it comes to you"
and so i draw the curtains
around us with pencil and pen
and i ask again
if he is sure
and he whispers, "baby, sin for me"

and so i grab a blade
and run it down my tongue
because he likes his girls silent
and so i obtain a gun
**** it and put it on my temple
and pull the trigger
because he likes his girls brainless
and so the oil bubbles out of my mouth
and it spills onto my *******
because he likes his girls hot
searingly so
and so i draw my sword
and cut out my lungs
because he likes his girls breathless
and so i tear a cigarette out of it's pack
and light it
because he likes his girls rebellious
and so i kiss his lips
and rip his tongue out with my teeth
because i want him speechless
and i can tell from his sparkling eyes
that i was more than he bargained for
and so i put myself together
and whisper,
"baby, sin for me"
and leave
for i am sinful.

The night, she's black lace,
woven around bright stars,
twinkling little orbs in all of their grace.
Shining brightly, aging slowly, from afar.

The night, she's beautiful the way sad things are,
unappreciated by most, comforting to others,
traveler's follow their GPS, adventurer's are led by their North Star.
The night sky is filled with intricate colors.

I am the night,
dark and mysterious, cloaked in my shade.
I am the dark in the light,
do you feel the rough drag of my blade?

The night, she's a wonder to man.
The night, she's mother to all,
do you hear her urging to you that, "Darling, you can."
Do you hear her gentle, dragging call?

The night, she's filled with pinks swirled into the deep indigo,
it's not hard to fathom why the galaxy meets most's fancy.
Her beauty doesn't shine, her beauty glows,
her colors deeper than the purple in a wild *****.

I am the night,
being your friend, guiding your way.
I am a wight,
I drift in the morning, you beg me to stay.

The night, she's what I dream of.
I try to sleep during the day so I can visit my love.
She's my gentle goddess in the above.
She caresses me with the gentleness of a dove.

I am the night,
closing your eyes.
I am the night,
singing you lullabies.

I am the night,
taking you to the afterlife,
I am your sight,
showing you what you left behind.

silly girl
you thought you could escape me
me?
i made you
created you
sculpted you from a
grain of sand
and you thought you could escape
run away as
though i could not catch
you inside of the palm
of my hand?
you truly thought
that choking down
a jagged pill
would leave me dead within
the depths of
a dark pool of blood?
i hate to break it to
you
you poor infant little girl
you were wrong
i will come back tenfold strong
breaking through every
boarded door
an army could not shoot me down
could not keep me from what is mine
you are nothing without me
you will never amount to
anything
if you leave me
do not leave me
please don't leave me
i love you
i love you so, so much
do not leave me
i would hate to harm you
but if you tried
i would have to
and my dear
you tried
i have to do this
so you never leave me again
don't you ever leave me again
i made you
you know this
and it sits within
your heart
it leaps beyond your soul
it chains you
and you know this
you are mine
and no amount of pills
or drugs
will ever change that
i will never leave
and if you do escape
i will find you
and you will endure
the world of wrath
i have set away for you
and only you
do not run again my love
for you know not
what you are running from.

everytime i touch
a cigarette ****
to my dry lips
all i can feel
is the softness of your kiss

everytime i empty
my scattered mind
i hear your voice
soothing everytime

i can feel
your gaze
i can seal
your kiss

but i cannot

i like to
lie
to myself

for

i'm lost in the pages
in which
i mapped
each spot
of your
body

i'm lost in the drawings
that i sketched
of your
eyes

        and might i
        just add
        how cursed
        and wretched of a
thing it is
        to be lost
        in something
        that will forever
        remain a*
            memory

Sometimes I will take ******* clad photos
and post them
just to reassure myself
that my body is truly there
and truly mine to behold
and touch
and gaze at
sometimes I'm called "cute" or "a ****"
but how am I a ****
when all I have given you is
sight
and not
touch

I want to be able to touch my own skin
and feel...
skin
not ghost stories
not scars
or fabric bound
so tightly that I can't move
I want to feel my hand
graze my arm
without that graze
skimming cold fragile
porcelain

I am tired of my thoughts
wrapping themselves
around my throat
cutting into my skin
my thoughts are a rope
that would string me
from an oak tree

Sometimes I run
with my shoes untied
and I race the world
because I love the way the
wind slapping my face
and the inevitable fall onto the concrete
makes me feel alive
because I do not feel
alive
can you see the ruby-crimson
spiderwebs weaved into my eyes
I know you can
and I only know that
because they stick out
like a dysmorphia on my skin
my mother asks me if I'm ******
and it's much simpler to agree
than to tell her I've been crying
because I don't have to explain
drug abuse
but emotions require an entire doctorate

Sometimes when the winds
shakes me and pushes me forward
I wish I was
a porcelain plate
and that I would
fall down and
shatter.

September rains are back again,
and oh; how I've missed my old friend.
Sprinkling wisps running from the clouds.
Black lightning making thunder rumble; loud.

I'm sitting on a grassy *****,
looking for my happiness through this horoscope.
Joyous shouts coming from within,
feeling this freedom of being alone (but not feeling lonely) overcome and win.

Stardust layered upon my heart,
and I swim in my shames whilst wallowing in the dark.
I can feel the daggers shooting through my mind,
telling myself that I'm not okay. But I'm just fine.

September rains are almost gone,
and now the sun's coming out before dawn.
I watch as my friends, the dark clouds gather in the sky,
and I ready my muddy dress so I can say goodbye.

the world is dead
silent and
dead
and i sit alone
silent and dead
my hands turn
red
my face burns
red
my eyes stained
red
the people i thought knew me
are black and dead
silent
cold
fold me in half
crumble me away
burn my skin
like you do every day
i do not know
why i thought this was the way
i do not know
why i thought this was right
you had given me gifts
and i was filled with delight
until i saw them in illuminating light
they were bones
each of my fears
carved in the white
starved in my sight
summer was in full bloom
and i sat in a room
a tomb
burning with red
everything
silent and dead
quietness bled
into my ears
and it sang anxiously
heavy breaths
my hands shook
took me underground
away from sound
but it did not matter
for the world
was already dead
silent and dead
screaming red
screaming to be fed
nostalgia of life overwhelms me
and i see your face
laughing in mine
as we seal a final kiss
that i didn't want
to be the last time
and i know you regret me
i know you wish you
could have stepped away
from insanity
but what is love
without insanity
what is a kiss
without the passion
of crazy
crazy for you
crazy for me
bless our hearts
we were caught in the
chaos of sanity
stolen by the crashing waves
of insanity
and i remember being alive
oh you and i
so alive
so in tune
with the gentle steps
our racing feet took
it was all surreal
so real
yet i waited
for the earthquakes to shake us
for the world to rearrange us
but i took the step
took that fatal leap
to show us how real
we were
how pain could feel
when neither of us wanted
it to end
but i needed reality
as you meandered in a fantasy
regret this
regret me
regret us
regret that final kiss
regret everything
consider making me
or breaking me
consider loving me
or hating me
consider stealing me
or losing me
consider loving me
for me
but i know that is not real
but a mere fantasy
collect my heart in a pocket
where you hold many
and all of them
are silent and dead
silence is red
my heart bears a heavy stone
and i know it is your heart
that i hold
and i wonder
why am i not
silent
why am i not dead
why must i only burn
       -
agonizing
atomic
delusional
i am delusional
lost in this thought
seeing you burning beside me
red
everything is red
the green of old firs
burns red
and no
no it is not fire that i see
no it is not sunlight that i see
for even the sun
agonizingly red
hope that one day
we shall not burn
silent and dead
terrified and red
catastrophe follows me
like a lost child
yet catastrophe is solely
silent and dead
regret me
please before i think too much
too soon
i would like to know
if love
is silent
is dead
is love
red

your freckles are my favorite constellation
and i mapped each one
and i traced each one
and i sketched each one
until i felt closer to you

someday
you will look at me
and no longer love me
in fact
someday
you will look at me
and no longer see me
rather
you will see millions of
ghost stories
that you thought you had drowned
with each sip of cheap liquor
that you continue to pour
down your charred throat
your charred tongue
and your black teeth
that are only black
when they smile at me

and i want to be able to look
at your face again
and simply see
stars
that i can lose myself in

i spilt tea on my floor
tonight
and it reminded me of you
the way the sticky sweet
coated each tile
the way it stuck to my skin
like an undeniable sin
like you
suicidal tendencies
with starved remedies
breathe me in like a camel ninety nine
i parch your mouth
and chap your lips
like a deceitful crime
i am the sound of silence
that plasters your room
you sit there like it's your
self-proclaimed tomb
and i sit here awaiting
a silent conversation
to resume
my thoughts are absurd
and obscured
and they twist and churn
rarely settling
as though they are waters post stir
i do not like being less than
and i am afraid i am never more than
and i'm always settling
for less than
because i am
less than
hot tea sticks to my lips
and i can feel a death sentence on
my tongue
and it tastes like ***
mixed with ***** and wine
and i cannot comprehend why
i would make such a drink
but i cannot comprehend
why i do much of
anything
you say i am thunder
that you love the sound of me
but in my wake you blunder
and i realize
how i am a horror story
that you shoved with the rest of
the skeletons in your closet
and i realize
i reek the most
instigated arguments
tearing parchments
isolated little girl
i am alone
i am alone
i am alone
i am surrounded by people
but i am alone
do you hear me screaming
for you to look at me
and see me
for all you see is
sticky sweet
like i am spilt tea
you could lap up
on your charcoal tongue
cancer smells good on you
it smells like lilac lullabies
like lavender daydreams
and lily sighs
you are a nightmare
lost in a fantasy
of being something real
and i am alone
lost in a reality
of wanting adventure and fantasy
but nobody could foresee
the greenest of envies
that sat in my fragile mind
all i could feel anymore
was blind
for i cannot see
i cannot feel
i cannot breathe
help me
my heart is not beating
and i can feel it rising
to the ceiling of my throat
i'm afraid i will choke
each of my organs have shifted upwards
i cannot think
my tongue is not in my mouth
rather it sits in your hand
and you dip it into spilt tea
before asking if i would like a drink
i am smoke
sifting down your throat
chasing all of the memories
of happiness that no longer
sit in your chest
instead they dance
and adhere to the floor
as hot tea sticks like glue
and holds you hostage
and my thoughts run rampant
and spill onto my floor
with the black tea
that suppresses my urge to breathe
and it is like it is spilling into my lungs
and you ask me
if this is fun
but you hold my tongue in your fist
and my lips still feel smothered
by your kiss
because your lips feel like
your fist
and my blood oozes
like spilt tea
and you want to take a drink.

one: i love the sun and light and the smell of dewy grass. i've lost my taste for the dark.
two: my love for the darkness has turned into but a simple appreciation for i cannot love something where i know monsters lurk.
three: you are one of those lurking monsters.
four: i'd rather get high than hear you speak. the burn of the smoke as it chases and then caresses my lungs and the heavy exhale that follows is the only conversation i need because drug consumption is more important to me than my life being consumed by you.
five: i love myself now.
six: i do not need danger like i did when i was a juvenile. danger is an art i have never perfected.
seven: you never loved me.
eight: i learned long ago that the purple tulips you planted under my skin were not your way of saying i love you but they were instead your way of proving your dominance.
nine: i do not like being dominated.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
seven: you never loved me.
ten: you lurk in the shadows in my room. even though i do not want to be with you now you stay with me but that's not any different considering you never cared what i wanted.
five: i love myself now.

they say that writing
is a gift
and that those
who have been blessed by it
hold the world in their scathed
palms

they say that writing
is power
and that if
you can wield your pen right
you can make others feel
as you feel

and i'm afraid that that's why
i stopped

i cannot curse another
with these countless thoughts
that always tic-toc
and tic-toc

i cannot allow myself
to make another hurt
because i have felt much pain
this is no gift, my dearest,
this is a curse

i tried to stop
i try to stop
but i am afraid that
my writing is as endless
as the tic-toc of the clock

shadow men speak to me
he says i'm safe
he says i'm perfect company
and i offer him my mind
for i am scared
simply because he is there
and he is real

a rainbow paints the sky
and kisses my cheek
she says i am the beauty
that she reflects
and i offer her my skin
because i know i am the ugly
that coats her gray skies

rain drops speak to me
he says he understands my woes
he says he cries for me
and i offer him my pain
for i want to be one with the bright
simply because i am hurt
and i know that i will never be happy

sunlight shouts into my room
and grasps my hand
she says i am the light
that she burns
and i offer her my hair
because i know fiery red
makes yellow an earth shattering orange

gray clouds speak to me
he says i'm beautiful
he says he's sorry he never came sooner
and i offer him my hope
for i know he needs the innocence
simply because he is dark
and i want to give my purity a chance

a sunflower coats my ceiling
and holds me in her outstretched petals
she says she loves the light in my eyes
and i tell her i gave it to the clouds
she says she loves the wild in my hair
and i tell her i gave it to the sun
she says she loves my pain and strength
and i tell her i gave it to the rain
she says she loves my simplistic beauty
and i tell her i gave it to the rainbow
she says she loves my racing mind
and i tell her i gave it to the shadow man
she says she loves me
and that what i gave away
was not all that i had
and i ask if she would like the rest
but she shakes her gold halo
and tuts
and she sings with a voice that glides
down my throat like warm honey
i do not want what you are made of
and she wraps me in her petals
and leaves
and she smells of everything wonderful
in the world
and when she is finished
she is grey and drooping
and she says
now you are one with the bright
and she leaves me to ponder
what i have really given away.

cigarette stained sheets
and you see the burns on my bed
i bet to you
you find me weak
bleak
boring
and believe me i am all
of those things
i cannot deal
cannot feel
and when i do
it is but a ruse to you
and it's been a while
since i looked up to you
been a while since i cared about you
and all of this ****
it why you look down on me
you look at me like
grass stained knees
you would rather bleach away
than live with
and i ask you to bleach me away
because i have bleached you away
you are but a memory
i look at in the eyes every morning
but a song that skips
on every time it plays
and i cannot write
i cannot do anything
i am too stuck in a flood
to find dry paper
to sketch a lifeless life onto
i am too drunk on beer i stole from you
and i find it only fair
because i cannot finish this poem
this poem is a lost cause
much like you
i don't have anything to say
i don't have anything to say
other than i hate you
i hate that i still love you
i hate that no matter how hard i try
i cannot hate monsters
i cannot hate you
i cannot hate anyone
i cannot hate anything
because no matter how hard i try
i am but a dying artist
and i find love in everything
and i wish i didn't
i don't know how i do
after being raised by you
a hateful man
who does not know any love other
than a love for an addiction
and maybe that's why i cannot hate
i am addicted to love
i am sorry dad