YOU ARE EVERY BAD THING IVE EVER LOVED.
YOU ARE THE COKE I FIRST SNORTED AT A PARTY.
YOU ARE THE BUD I SMOKED THAT GOT ME ****** AND MADE ME REALIZE I WANTED TO DIE.
YOU ARE THE XANIES I TOOK AT SCHOOL TO NUMB MYSELF FROM MY DEPRESSION.
YOU ARE THE ADERALL IN MY SYSTEM I TOOK TO STAY AWAKE FROM SLEEPLESS NIGHTS.
YOU ARE THE ACID TABS I TOOK BECAUSE I WANTED TO FIND OUT WHO I WAS.


I STILL LOVE YOU
BUT
I DONT GO TO THOSE PARTIES ANYMORE.
I NO LONGER WANT TO DIE.
I NOW CONTROL MY DEPRESSION.
I CAN SLEEP WITH OUT SEEING THAT CONSTANT GOD ****** DREAM.
I KNOW WHO I AM.

I never knew my father, but I see him pass in every window reflection. Collar turned to the wind, he bumbles towards the book store with a coffee shop upstairs. I'm entombed in literature and fellow hermits. We become non-existence for all moments but this; as we hunch over scalding cappuccinos, eyes darting to each other semi-covertly, for once hopeful of human contact.

I never knew my father. He died of lung cancer before memories bloomed, in the space between the womb and indoctrination. All traces of him are left in trinkets, soap-preserved hair fibres in a shaving mug, and ripples of gravitational waves. He tells me that I have a place, without ever saying a word. And, he never tells me off for smoking.

I never knew my father. He was a military man and belonged to the Salvation Army. I don't think we'd see eye-to-eye now, but perhaps he would have saved me from my artist's starvation; with my bleeding heart pouring pointlessly into each and every gutter. I would have walked with more of a stride than a fluster, and call out names to the streets, without ever caring for consequence.

I never knew my father, but I met him once. I met him in the caverns of mind, as I swung around with a flashlight; hoping to find meaning in meditation. He held my shoulders as I fell to sobs, as I told him I missed him, as I told him I was lost. To that he just smiled and said:

“You're already there.”

if i could
i would
shrink myself
and sink through
your skin
to your blood cells
and remove
whatever is making
you hurt.


m.g.

slowly
I've grown less
hungry
I've stopped eating
but  no one is to know
i am supposed to be
strong
for you, my love,
i have to show you
that i'm okay
and that you don't have
to worry about
me
and my petty life
anymore
i'm trying to become beautiful
because i know that
im not.


m.g.

I saw what she wrote
and that sat me thinking.
Cruel eyes,
cruel hands,
painting me
black and blue.
purple here,
green there,
I'll stitch it with my hair.
Grit my teeth,
naked in the sheath
salt pouring out from
those that saw it all.

Close them.

Maybe this time
the dents in the wall,
the splintered bat-
the window
where my feet
set running
on that muddy earth-
-
maybe this time it'll hurt so bad
that it'll have never happened.

Sometimes, not always, I attach strings to the ends of my arrows to help give meaning to the relationships you get in.

Sometimes, you walk around with arrows sticking out of you like a human porcupine, cause the pieces of you heart are scattered like a jigsaw puzzle in your chest. I still don’t get every piece.

I have to admit sometimes I’m a pretty bad shot.

but most times you don’t let me.

Most times your either hiding with the skeletons in your closet or you leave home with your heart on the sleeve of yesterdays shirt.

You tend to lose your breath every time someone comes close enough and your butterflies have long suffocated .

Finger tip arrows to touch hearts and silk basket ears to catch dreams I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that your kind is a solar eclipsed blue moon. You don't happen that often.

You've battled impossible in rings made of bent realities. So how dare you not trust faith to be faithful.

You've developed a stainless steel philosophy, hoping if you stay still you’ll stay stainless.

But sometimes, not always, a broken compass still points north.

i feel
a relief
and a new burden

i feel
an ending
and beginning

i feel
panicked
and at ease

i want
a new life
with the good from the old

i want
a fresh brain
since the used one has been scribbled on
doodling your name
over
and over
and over again

i want
the old memories
when we were so new to each other
that the adrenaline kicked in
with every innocent glance

i need you

to be flexible
and new
and awake
and aware

please be ready

because i'm not ready to sit on this plateau
and pick the grass with you
because you have so much love to spend
and i need you

now lets journey