To the girl with the pin-up dreams,
Keep reaching for them.

Like the time you reached out
Like a dream and gave me
that over-the-pants-hand-job.

In my car, after work,
waiting for your train to come,
After I did.

“Burgundy sounds more poetic than maroon"
You say, in regards to your sweater.
-I’m just romanticizing it
tossed across
my room

As you push me
to the mattress
and strip me down
passed skin and bones

back to the vibrations
of my soul

Humming along,
are you a muse
or a siren song?

Are you rebirth
or are you just
another little death
of inspiration?

So fleeting.

I hate when you’re leaving,
because it leaves me longing
and pathetic

I’m just the impulsive one
with the most grandiose dreams.
Like I wanna give you everything
from the depths of these
****** up fantasies
With the most
golden ******* intentions

Because you’re the reason for
the ringing in my ear
when I feel like I’m onto something

The reason that the season
starts to make me feel better

So can you just stay
while I romanticize
your sweater?

They cut up her face
  to spite who knows

She cut off some weight
      despite her bones

She’s starved for grace
    like a hungry ghost

Is it passion?
Is it addiction?

The way she suffers
so stranger than fiction

She’s waning away
    just like the moon

It’s just the way
    the darkness consumes

As they edit away
    her absolute heart of the poem

Cut, copy paste
they stretched the truth
across her face

Now the disenchanted runway
calls her name

“Depersonalization"

Baby girl,
you were born
with it

Now you’ve
just been
manipulated!

The transformation
was a success
but you’re still sentient!

Screaming
"Being like everybody
is like being nobody
and this body
is no body
it’s a plastic prison"

built on a template
of all your false expectations

We need to
    cut off the face
    of the status quo

There’s nothing divine
    left to her ratio

Knock the Goddess
    from the pedestal

Conjuring
an idea
of you

that I can’t explain

like
Je ne sais quoi

You're still
wracking my brain

But now I’ve got you
on the
ta-ta
tip of my
tongue

I want to paint you
like one of those
French girls

le petite mort
You came
and went

Girl in the white
dress

You brought the light like
Sookie Stackhouse.
You wanna do
real bad things with me
A little stranger than fiction

You’re my strangest addiction
The only one
I’d ever spill my True Blood for
From here until the true death

le petite mort
You came
and went

Girl in the white
dress

Mesmerized
by them Lake Michigan Eyes
I saw everything I fear
and everything I desire

You got me
right where you want me
right where I want to be
like a willing sacrifice

le petite mort
You came
and went

Girl in the white
dress

You were my favorite
femme fatale
forcing me to face this
fiery finale

You and me
enlightenment-to-be
Like Nirvana
come on blow my mind

Ambien Angel,
Hallucinate
a halo

to replace
the self-doubt
that you’ve got
wrapped around
your mind

We only talk
at times
of
Swirling
self-destructive
forces

I felt your
distress call
through the ether

Spiraling
down
down
wrapped
in a cloud
of smoke, whiskey
and Bukowski

There you were,
The American Spirit
staring back
from the
Apothic abyss
of red wine
and controlled
prescriptions.

We all
get so alone sometimes
in Tales of Ordinary Madness

It just makes sense
to let another
Siren sing our ships
towards crimson catastrophe

But you handle
the collisions
so gracefully

Looking so
God-**** divine
like your name

This time
Go lightly
and let’s float
away

Now that
I’ve told
you all my secrets

Won’t you come
in the night
and ****** me
with the truth?

Push me down,
and tie me to the bed
that I made
Freudian-slipping
between layers of
in vino veritas
conversations

When I manifested
from under the mask
where I just
want to be accepted
as both the light
and my shadow

Won’t you come
pull my dark passenger
from the
dark
depths
of my sacral chakra?

My deepest desires
spiraling out,
you've
got me
wrapped around
your finger

I am the snake
coiled around
the core
of the sweetest
fruit
I just want to
savor

Then slither
back home

To the
Goddess of the Abode

To decompress
this tension

To Rise up and
slit my throat
at the vortex
of expression