it's still not a fashion statement, what i wear on my face
and in the places where i'm faring pretty.
the way i sit in my skin's a defense.
it's not coincidence, my countenance.
i'm plagued, i'm crazed, i'll sail for days. so let's set sea.
your majesty, i've never felt this useful.
set me up on your stage; watch the change in my face.
i'll fall, sinking crimson, splendidly.
oh, the beauty in this crime scene.

i said i had some sentiment worth voicing.
i was capable of screaming,
and now here i am bleeding for your sympathy.
don't say you've never felt like me,
but don't bother with apologies.

is my suffering so pretty yet?
does the aesthetic of my anguish
suit your mood? if it's singing true, nod your head.
bash it into the wall and then crawl out of this pity party.
if you know how i do, pain'll be a relief from this bar scene.

just make it stop.  

ask me, is this your decision? no- i've lost control, become the victim
of a number of debilitating conditions, 'cause i fed them.
let me weep for my self-pity, my ugly-pretty misery.

i was promised an improvement.
i was told i'd feel better eventually.
well, i've spent seven years soulless. where's my solace?
where's my peace of mind?
cause i'm still feeling wild, on fire,
directionless and impoverished. i've been a hot mess
for so long it's not even fun anymore.
ultimately even self-pity grows stale and motionless.

yeah, there's no money in being sad and sick, honey.
everybody's heard that one too many times before.

they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing with a bleeding tongue-
beauty stems from my pain.*

you're slivered inside and derided on sight.
your abhorrent habits have cast fans aside-
your knack for dramatics belittles the tragic.
it isn't romantic. get over your strife.

they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing with a bleeding tongue-
beauty stems from my pain.

not all life is suffering- you're twisting it in your head.
psychosomatic pain's no reason to act dead.
you're wasting your youth with these childish blues.
self-pity is useless, contagious. get out of bed.

they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing for my poisoned loves-
my voices guides them to their graves.

stop worr'ying the wound and it'll event'lly heal.
quit floating towards koreyland- identify what is real.
if you wanna get better you gotta be brave.
face the pain and the rain or stay caught up in tears and weals.

i'm willing to do what it takes to make this bar go wild.
the only question left: are you susceptible to what i've got?
if we can't jive, we're empty-handed- but i've got vibes that you and i can get down.

let's get down, then- let's get ******* wild.
let's jam, man- i wanna hear what you've got in your hands.
what do you have in your bones that'll get you mad enough to dazzle?
let the passion take you over. i wanna watch you lose control.

i won't keep you waiting once you embark- i promise you that.
would it get you on your feet if i said i saw something in you and i wanted at it?
or would the aftermath of that statement leave me flattened?
either way, i'll end up collapsing on the stage eventually.

so am i something to write home about?
do i dazzle? or am i just one of the flock?
tell me; i need to know. i feed on what you think of me.
i'm in dire need of validation; i've no self-esteem. so speak.

one, two, three. clap your hands if you believe in me.
keep it to the beat if you wanna see me healthy.
i don't do well when things aren't right. yeah, i'm a delicate flower child with a bad case of the wilds.

acromegalous. i grew too much. i'm a city fish in a little pond.
i'm gasping for air here; i'm so ******* bored. let me out.

i don't fit this skin, so i'll unzip it.
shrug my way out and slip into a better living.
lighter and more lively. just you wait and see. i'll make it, just you wait.

i poison what i touch, but it's ******* interesting.
wanna watch me implode on the big-screen?
i'll cry if it'll get you thinking.
i'll scream and shout if you'll believe it means something.
i just gotta make it look like i'm still alive.

i guess i'm done with apologies- what good did they ever do?
it's time i leapt before i looked, in order to move
despite fear rooting me in this swamp. yeah, i've been festering
here in this basement. apologies if the shrieking pestered
you. i was merely releasing stuck energy- in this agony, i seem so rude.

now that i've molted, i've no time to speak of my callow mistakes:
i can only swear silently to make up for them and for the time i've wasted.
let's face it, i'm nameless and my teens have passed me, but i've not missed my opportunity.
i'll prove it to you with this hopeful departure from the cliff.

i am no man or woman, not like you. i am woven of memory and birdflesh.
my hollow bones surely will grant me the gift of flight if i try my hardest.
if i leave you bereft, my second-best solution was to disappear, so there's that-
if i do not succeed, at least my failure will spare me the embarassment.

yeah, **** saying sorry, cause nothing ever came of it.
i could've said ten times more with my deeds- if i'd had the strength.
i guess we all could've tried a little harder than we did.
please just let me go now. i'll call if i've made it.
if not, well, **** saying sorry- cause i've had it.

yeah, we all say things we really mean, then sober up and forget to be honest.
i know you would've come if you'd remembered making the promise.
i won't say a word, no, i won't call you on it.
even though it's nowhere close to fair, we tried our hardest-
i swear we did what we could- so **** it.
i'm sick of being apologetic.

if you could only ease my eyes from their sockets
and pop them into your own head, unfettered,
you would see the truth in my words.
i've gone and spilled my guts here- the letters
are viscera and blood upon the page.
how brave they are to carry my sentiment,
how strong to bear my burdens.

dig into my intestines in an effort to understand
why i am leaden: they are bags of sand-
or is my immobility caused by the black hole in my gut?
tonight i'm the sidewalk, trodden on, grey, stained with yesterday's glut.

i am sober tonight, i swear. it's you who swells
and fails to understand what i am talking about.
i will not watch myself fade and sink for any longer.
tonight i abscond from your corner of hell.
"i am the combined effort of everyone i've ever met",
so baby, if i'm failing, maybe i just haven't found the right people yet.
we are both responsible for this crash.
you didn't start the fire, but you handed me the match.

my chest cavity is hollow. my body is rotting out from beneath me. i stagger on scaly feet.
when was the last time i bothered to eat?
if i come home tonight, i'm bringing my army with me.
tonight i'm bringing it all back.
i will not face this basement without something harsh to numb the pain.

there's a cavern in this cadaver. noise ricochets off hollow walls,
intensifying the immense desire to initiate my demise.
my soul split after the ellipsis tricked the will out of the innocent.
i have little motivation and the voices make my head spin,
leaving me wasted and short-changed at the frontline again.
let me sink to the fourth regiment. take my bayonet-
i have no need for it now, not when my skin sings for silver
and i'm begging for the end.

we won't be saved til we're dead, but corpses never know they're saved.
i'll lay in torment in my grave long after dirt obscures my frame,
but misery to me is commonplace, like my disgrace.
"you can't go to heaven unless you get high"- well, i've tried,
but my withering physique is merely shame with a face.
i asked entrance, and the doorman could not recognize me.
he said, "this place is for souls, not for the embodiment of self-loathing."
he denied me admittance and bid me good riddance, kicked me from the clouds,
and i fell back to living hell, still hollow, without absolution or due pittance.

"what doesn't **** you makes you stronger"- what *******.
they fed those pacifier lines to me so i would stop sobbing and deal with it.
i've learned to keep my countenance blank, to stop the stares and questions.
my carcass dons a steady gaze while inside i howl, pain relentless, ageless, endless.

i'd eviscerate myself a thousand times if it would give me peace,
but i know inside that i'm too entwined with suffering for it to cease.

i'm a pitiful creature
fueled by the hope of a new day,
but every night i fall asleep disappointed,
and you're sick of empty promises.

every morning i drag myself up
to some semblance of self-sufficience,
beat myself against the walls
and wonder why i won't change.
every night i fall asleep disappointed,
and you're sick of empty promises.

my mouth is moving. you've heard this before,
but we'll both pretend my number's not up.
rhetoric won't get me out of this,
and you're sick of empty promises,
but i'm not sick of trying just yet.

i.
caren forgot about her morning.  caren forgot it was wednesday.  caren had an event and she was not there.

caren is a shadow.  caren is an absence of space.  caren is a gap that people shy away from, women in black dresses sidestepping past her memory.

caren is a woman with a streetcar.  caren is a woman with an office job.  caren is a woman with a social network.  caren goes to functions.  caren is no longer a function, but a product of her own actions.

caren forgot herself.

ii.
shattered windshields. broken glass like triangle teeth. more monsters lurk in mirrors than in the recesses of the closet.  behemoths wait by water coolers, demons sit in sweaty three-by-fours.  the devil wears a motorcycle helmet and caren hasn't learned from her mistakes.

iii.
run a red light.  it's december and she's egging on the new year.  frosted features and blinkers hide hot flashes.  she's impatient for her age, a businesswoman at her best.  

a shift in gear. a change in mood.  road rage, road rash.  a few words from a dark knight on a whinnying bike.

iv.
lane changes and unintentional nudges. motorcycle launches the devil like a dove to heaven. caren stays earthbound, blood spilled to nourish the ground.  fertilizer runs through her veins, and vampire trees in city parks drink it up. bystanders drink it up.

v.
caren is a casualty.  caren is the victim of her own habits.

caren is a corpse in a coffin. caren is an elephant in the viewing room.  

caren is to blame in eyes and minds. caren is condemned in whispers, but caren is lamented out loud, so caren is proud.

caren got **** done.

each day staggers by
in stuttered compromise.
heaven meets hell in my stormy eyes,
but my wrath is surely wrapped up
in the way i never cry,
the way i won't admit
how much i'd love to die.

i am sick of this existence.
i want to unzip my skin
and flay it from the ribs,
to let my bones step out of it.
i've stopped feeding my demons.
now they feast on my flesh.
pain is my steady hand, and not my torment.
you avert your eyes, but i love how i deserve it.

if you knew me like i do, with no secrets,
believe me,
you'd hate me as much as i did.
i'm better than i was, but i'm still just a kid.
one year older, none the wiser.
i still want to die, but i made a promise.

if i could tear myself to pieces again,
i'd do it in an instant.
if i should leave this sallow casing,
shut your eyes and cash my chips in.
if i make it hard for you, don't fail to mention it, for i'll repent for it.
i mean you no sacrilege-
i'm simply demented.

i still suffer every day. i just learned how to hurt invisibly.
i'm still enamored with my own pain, but don't want anyone to worry.
i've chosen a new medium so i can rest in peace.
i'm done with trying. i just want an ending.

i would have done it already
but my conscience keeps me.
i'm tired of holding steady. i only want to sink.
each day that passes by just brings me closer to the brink,
and i'm tired of having to think.

how low will i get
before it kills me again?
how low will i get
before i get on with it?
i'm tired of the pills and tests.
i'm past the point of being worth it.

i say i'm in purgatory- waiting to die,
cause i know this will **** me.
i'm playing deadly limbo with the bar dropped to my feet.
motivation left me, but i'm still keeping beat.
but how long can i maintain this without sinking completely?

i.
fantasy girl,
they tell me,
you've got your head in the clouds.

but it's better up there.

ii.
i'll do what you want for now
but i'll have you know,
i'm a celebrity in my own head.
and i don't need to figure
things like taxes and math.

i dance
around beautifully brazen ballerinas
and flowers missing half their petals
before they've even bloomed
and weave justice back into romance
and weave romance back into words.

i make my own living
where i am king
of thieves and beggars
and i am respected
for my fraud.

iii.
you expect me to remember
the littlest things
             (names,
                 dates,
                  rules)
when i am too preoccupied
by things that fill my head
              like the sounds of words
              like the way they make me feel

and due dates make me anxious
so i'll just erase them
why don't you understand
i have the power to change the world?
my pen is mightier than your scalpel.

  (i don't need to meet
  your plastic-surgery standards,
  your smiling faces with lying eyes)

iv.
what is surviving in your world
compared to even living in mine?

i learned about loneliness last night,
belatedly, because no one ever bothered
to explain it to me- it was
something best kept for the time it existed in
the blank space where a hand had once been
a soft shaky touch
now absent

the sorrow comes in sultry waves
with the indigo tide of me missing your breath
on the hollow in my sleepy neck,
a whisper backandforth inandout and then
a hitch, a twitch and the slow descent
from sea-froth into dreamland

we drifted, content, into the
scared scarlet hills where nightmares roam
where i made my home, knowing that
in sleep your whispers still coated my pillowcase
and i was not alone

we sank, satiated, into
the wasteland in our wasted heads
knowing that despite the terror, we could share your bed
knowing that when i woke, gasped, drenched in sweat
you would brush the hair
from my forehead
i'd remember my respite
and we would settle down once again

and as i lie, disconsolate
my ribcage heaving, desolate, i pull your jacket
to my face, breathe in your scent, your comfort
rise from the depths
and thank whatever guides our fate
that i only feel this pain
in the present

i’m fighting with gravity
to the death- until my head rests,
empty as my belly
on this false-porcelain floor-
skin waxy as laminate over
these heavy hollow bones
waiting for freedom-
liberation from this sullen casing.

i shake, manic-
blood pressure in the basement,
nauseous from diet pills and anxiety.
jittery, stare at the ceiling-
a spider, stick-limbed, teases me,
but here’s the silver lining:
no curds or whey coating
my shining insides.

i am stronger and brighter than ever
as black swims in my vision-
light-headed from malnutrition,
i wrap fingers around my wrists
to make sure i haven’t escaped my limits.
the mirror doesn’t lie, but it won’t snitch.
we’ll keep this surreptitious.

spilling my bloodred guts, my blood,
won’t make me wither,
and confessing won't save me either.
this red ribbon stays tied around my wrist.
secrets kept keep me stable
clinging to my only success,
self-confidence cellophane-wrapped
in my absence, my transparence.

the whispers don’t mean a thing.
i am frantic on a wire frame,
white noise on parade.
the ground can only hold me for so long.
i'll sprout wings from my ribcage
and float away.

i'm not the only battered one here
we've got our separate histories,
but with similar intensity
i, overwhelmed and off-guard, admitted
to you my past intentions, the dread
i felt each morning, because
i wished i hadn't woken, the pain
i felt in each moment, the fear
from feeling trapped, and my
desire to end it all-
i told you, i showed you mine,
and you showed me yours

i was transfixed by the
salmon splotches and white lines
graffitied over your skin, enough that
i wanted to carve myself up again
for the beauty in pain, and the stimulation
because this is more than habit- this
is an addiction

i still bear the marks of your teeth in
my skin, the sweetest agony
to affect me in the past three weeks
i cradle your matchstick bones in
my selfish arms
promise to hold you if i snap again

it's vicious, my guilt
about my mental state, my self-hatred,
about my tears which you
still kissed me through, ignoring my
death-mask and the briny sorrow staining
your only cardigan, my salt-slick cheeks
red from too much despair- i gasped,
thanks for dealing with my ****, babe
i promise you won't have to deal
with me like this for long
i'm getting better

and you repeated,
the words spilling in the spaces
between each lip-press,
don't get better for me
don't get better for me
get better for you

"arson is always the answer"
he says with a delinquent grin
we're ****** and ****** up
smashing our own storefront windows
for the sake of the beauty
in the shattered glass,
in the crimson staining our skin  

we keep ourselves busy
tending to our wounds
then brag later, calling them battle scars
in an attempt to counteract
the pitying stares and then
the disgust when it's learned
their source is our own hateful hands

just stroke our teenage egos,
stoke the flames
and we will continue
to set your world ablaze
we'll search for awe and distraction  
**** consequence
you know we had no future anyways

i dreamed about you
last night.
you were alive.

let's not make this mercy killing into a tragedy
if you mourn, i'll recover my grip on reality
realize what i've done
and i can't handle that responsibility

i accepted my fate the first time i lost my mind
knew i'd forever be stuck outside my head
fought for a few years more,
but now i'm done with this

i will fall like the primaveral rain,
soak the earth with my brittle rotting bones
let the flesh decompose
ease my mind, cleanse my soul

tangled up in vacillation
mania-white staining indigo perceptions
the future never seemed so trivial
(who said i couldn't live like this)
wide-eyed, selectively hypersensitive
i'm ignoring what lies ahead
i don't want to think about it

i'm destroying what little chance i had left
precipitation replacing perspiration,
erasing perspective,
drowning out my voice of reason
just let me breathe
cause i'm so sick of responsibility

this is just the cycle of life
perspective's leeching the necrosis
from my bones
i will be reborn as a lesser being
so for now just let me
pretend that the flames are home.

the sum of my parts
is not greater than i am as a whole, no,
i am not simply a collection of scars
and ******-up storylines, oh,
i
am more than
the gristle and bone
the fibers interwoven through my arms
my lily-white striped clavicle
this corpse is my throne

i am not simply a ******
i am a ****** with a history
i am mauve valleys' majesty,
i am more than just my regrets
and my atrophies
and if it's not commendable, well, at least it's a story.

i,
simply because of my condition,
have lived through more than you could imagine
i have burned down in the depths with fire-skinned demons-
with messes deeper than your credit-card sins-
and i
have managed to get through it

these are my battle scars
i've fought ******* wars
and yet you shun me as if i'm not a hero
as if i'm not honorable for just making it
but i know you simply don't possess the tenacity
or the strength of wit
to deal with my ****
there's no reason to reproach
the type of behavior which keeps me alive
when i've done greater things than you ever will

stop staring
like i'm some sort of reject
like i'm something to pity
like i'm something worth nothing
like i can't recover
this is just a bad habit
and though you may find it disgusting i know i
can find worse dirt staining your mind

even if i leave this life
without a square inch of me unscarred
i have never backstabbed
i have not given in
while your inky secrets stay unspoken,
mine are imprinted upon my skin
and darling, that's all there is

if i am hateful, i will show you so
i have nothing to hide
my mouth isn't lipsticked shut

so what
if i cut
i'm still a good person
and though my battle is visible
there is nothing more around the corner
i am here to stay
so are my scars
and that's all there is to say

i.
we were insatiable last night,
impelled by the alienation one finds
at the bottom of a bottle-
our numb bones in need of warming
on top of and then under
covers, under clothes.
artist's hands fumbled, frantic for an answer,
trying desperately to become closer,
as if your nails in my spine could render
us inseparable-
as if i could, with my touch,
memorize and recreate you with me,
sculpt us together
forever and not just for the night,
my labor for your labored breath,
as fleeting as your consciousness.

ii.
as i ardently watch you dream
countenance softened by sleep
i know that come morning, i'll split
and we will lead sovereign lives,
divergent until your nocturnes play
and you serenade me once again.

and every content sigh which escapes my lips-
let it be betrothed
to an excuse for my behavior
as your hands graze my hips,
let it be known
that i know i am replaceable,
but if it's in the moment-

yes- in every moment of
every half-awake hour of
each of those five nights since that
fateful friday when i first slept in your bed-
or, rather- laid rather quietly
as we made eye contact
and you asked permission
to hold me close, and you roamed,
warmed me with breath and hands and alcohol
but never bothered to venture to my lips-

in every moment-
if this is what this is-
if this is living in the moment,
with no need for anchors or consequence,
then do not let me be forgiven
for my lust and for my loneliness
but for now, accept the upcoming apology
which will spill from yearning lips
let me say
that i know you don't mean it
like i wish you did
and yet i lie here,
in my near-guilt, with you anyways

strip me of the defenses i wear
to protect myself from the cold
shoulders, the wicked stares
slip the armor from my speech
and reassure me
that i do not need it here,
past the judgment of the daytime

take the stony demeanor
from where it chafes against
my soft skin-
let it lay, discarded,
on the floor with my guardedness,
my cynicism
let me be the angel
i have learned to smother
let me spread my wings
without bruising them
on mankind's abrasive habits

here, where sin is not forgiven
but rather accepted
have me whole and nothing more
with no more negative
space-
in this room,
mold me, with accepting hands,
into what i always was
into something small, something
honest, something trusting

let me let my guard down

you said you had never
seen a girl who could drink
***** straight from the
cheap plastic bottle
its slow burn cauterizing
my mental wounds
allowing me to feel
comfortable about my
self, my body
entwined in sticky arms
under
the covers

and i said
i was not as green
as my missing four years
would encolor me
flushing my cheeks-
bare, words bare-*****
on your bare chest
fingers weaving
reassurances
through firey hair

but what i kept
close, behind closed
chapped lips
forbid to let slip
from cigarette-
burned lungs
was that never
had i ever
been nestled
so
close
to another fledgling
and yet
it felt
so natural to me

remove the gratituous ending
from this shallow fantasy.
let me exist in the middle,
see the forest for the trees
and not the meltdown, pretend like
it won't all eventually
burn
leave me in ashes

i am victim to her sinister skin
numbing my former intentions
i have no eyes for consequence
i will stay, shaky, in the present
i am ignoring the signs
this path
i'm running
along will
lead to
my demise

the walls still bleed her jade eyes
the weight of when i was trapped
in her midnight vise
(i still am)
blinded, stone-cold, and still i weep

strip my heart with a fountain pen,
the scalpel to her inky revenge
untangle her sorry mentality from mine
do not worry about the aftereffects
when i cease to be tangible, spill my regret
so i won't be bothered to
when i come back down.  

when i prove myself worthless, i can say
it was all worth it
at the time  
when she catches me, i can say
it was dreadful in her arms
but i left myself nowhere else to go

stars and stardust, we were
from the press impelled by the loneliness  
from the incessant at the bottom of crowds.
we ache for our numb bones
and false amore on top of the love-
folie a deux covers under
the shared madness- artist's hands.

attachment is trying desperately-
infatuation is "as if"
with deadly symptoms- us inseperable.
red roses lead to "as if i could"
with roses dropped, so memorize and recreate
from vases shattered, sculpt us together
so life is forever and not just golden hair,
my labor for your blue eyes,
and as fleeting as your weapons.

cities sunk and yet i, ardent, watch
from the depths of countenance.
it's all for you, i know that.
perceive its aftereffects and
we will lead its hangover headache,
divergent until you're sprawled over your serenade.

it's surreal,
the space between
sleep and waking
the greyzone
before the sandman fills
our eyes with his sweet poison
before they water, saccharine tears
welling up and absolving us of sin

we forget
which secrets
are destined to be kept
inside; despite earlier inhibitions
we decide not to lie
and in the morning we regret
the things we said

we were stars last night
we scintillated, we illuminated
the bricks around us
we brought happiness to the cement

we were stars and i
was a comet-
i fell, but before i hit
the ground, i wished
for validation; i wanted
someone to tell me
my sin was okay but
i petered out,
became watered down
and the tidal wave
pushed the beach's arms aside-
i crashed,
and i did not care for the aftermath.

i do not wish to see you
if you still shine brighter than i-
not when i still miss my own light.
i apologize for the trickery-
i know i said i was fine,
but i was falling when you met me.

it's strange
the way brain waves
can roll up
onto someone else's beaches
and still feel at home
like the tide-pool-rejects
were all they'd ever known
like the nervous tics beached on the sand
were once their own

as if we had shared roots
at some point but branched off
i see patterns in you
which i thought were mine alone
geographically isolated, we still situated
ourselves into the same niche
brought thought processes
up from where
they were etched into our bones

perhaps we're the same species-
mine a shade stranger than yours
but still with similar history

you said i'd been in your head
since that night we tried to talk
i stumbled over my words
and you said you thought better on paper

you said i knew your thought process
but how you phrased it made it
sound like i'd been on your mind

well, you've been on mine

i am choking for words.
i hacked off the tip of my tongue
to spite my quick wit-
stumble over it.

lusting for beauty through text/
creation is hollow at best-

a dollhouse
a fantasy, dystopian as per usual
for an idle mind
losing hours and
pickled in hate's brine.
   salt in the wound
   salt in the wound

angst, angst, teenage angst.
a kiddie anarchist.
stop fighting it.

turn up the stereotypical.
depression playing on the radio.
don't try to be more original.
what haven't we seen?

choking for words and
stuck on painted portraits
all is well, but never exciting
i'm exiting this uneventful existence
all for once and once for all.

-and you thought there was a winner
buried in this chrysalis-
well, the rhythm has returned,
but i'm sick

of painted portraits and lost hours
and sugar-coated expectations of the truth
how uneventful, how unexciting
and i'm tired of razorblades,
but at least they're honest

speaking down, insults and
lies and i know i need to sleep
but i'm fighting it.

i'm ready to move on, but not for long
not for long and
you'll see me as a butterfly someday.

let it slip-
just for a moment-
that silky silver sliver
with the scarlet bite
take the plunge for once,
because you've been longing to fall  
all night.

let it slip-
the sober-golden
golden-boy facade you like
to wear so well,
spill your muddy secrets
for the crimson crowd-
put on the death-shroud.

trace the skin-
like eggshell,
toughened from times before
when the yolk spilt
then split the cells
apart, view the vivacity
still flowing
from your hardened heart.

remember
what it was like to feel,
before the pursuit of perfection
hollowed out your bones
spill your own blood
and take relief
in the quiet,
where no one knows.

let me call my own bluff,
tell you about every time
i thought i'd rather not be alive
i'll show the stories i've spun
upon my gossamer wrists-
if you'd truly like to hear it,
i'll grin and bear it.

before i bare arms,
let me warn you,
i was taught to bear arms,
bristle at the slightest touch
drive the hurt away
before it happened

i was raised in a world of strength
told to never remove my mask
oh, i must confess-
i never learned how to express
myself in the proper way

i cursed myself
with this addiction; i was the one
who initiated this affliction,
pulled this mirror across my skin
to reflect the madness within
and i will not blame
anyone but myself
for the creation of
my invisible hell

even fire cannot burn through
this stony expression
i understand that you can't imagine
what hatred lies within
i look so normal, oh,
so high-functioning
but behind this wall, it's agonizing.

i don't wish to brag,
but i don't even know
how i've survived the onslaught
of self-hate, years-long
i deny the existence of the talent
you say i possess, no,
i don't believe your compliments

and if you want to know
how i've always felt-
well, here it is,
woven into the ribbons on my wrists
my barcode arms
remind me
that i'm lucky
just to have you stick around.

i. descend

i've lost weight since we last met
we fit differently from before-
bird-thin, the both of us-
but this hollow in your feathered chest is
still where i feel most at home-
your jade eyes
a nest, to cultivate my happiness

i've been betrothed to the birds
you stayed back, earthbound
i fell, a cataract, from the red cliffs
you watched me sink, earthbound
i was ripped to shreds in the tundra
freezing and thirsty
and you listened instead to the flowers,
drowning me out as i whispered for help

they told you sunlight stories
when i was trapped in dusk
i was an inch from the edge of night
and you fled
so as to not be consumed.

ii. unpend

i know what i told myself-
i said i shed my mourning veil-
but i still weep for the morning lark,
your lightening song
haunting my brittle nightingale

i write you letters every night
with a fountain pen slathered in red ink
saying what i never could,
spilling my regret on the page

(wake up with ****** hands)

i should have known
you were no one to trust
you're just a fledgling

we're all so naïve.

iii. the end

i take flight, for brave is the man
who would leap from the bluff
to prove his worth;
for i can take action now-
i can say this now,
where before i sat on the sidelines

i will not wilt
in your arms
just for a moment
i will hold you tight
my prisoner

thank you for keeping me alive
i don't need that anymore
thank you for staying by my side
when i had eyes set to ****

thank you for helping me to ascertain
that i’m no phoenix
thank you for participating in
my stupid guessing games

you were the match
to ignite my nicotine habits
but now i'm the one who's
decided to spark and fade

green-eyes,
i've made a decision
and this time i'll stick with it-
featherlight now,
i will make my escape

the night flies
on stumbling butterfly wings and
our staggering conversation
half-lost in translation
and uncoordinated scribbling
still glows in my foggy mind

you’re gorgeous
when my eyes are closed enough
to see the beauty in everyone
you’re gorgeous
when your sunshined hair sticks up
when your inner poet
is allowed out to play
when you can spin sentences
like silk, to warm my cheeks
with unwarranted compliments
based on little evidence

our loose lips
sink shots, spill sorrow
we feel better for it
upon sharing, we find
a sense of belonging
there’s nothing
which forms a stronger bond
than human suffering

we are gorgeous
if only for the glory of being human
and for being strong enough
to share the pain within

for being someone
to share a friday night with
in deep discussion
i thank you
you can thank me later
for bringing you the *****
and next time
i’ll bring poetry too

the sun comes down a little earlier around here
a hemisphere away and winter's setting in
but i stopped feeling the cold
a while ago

it used to sting, stickily fresh
but now the wound's healing
knitting together with paralyzing heat

with suffocating heat
just let me breathe

just
let me

i unzippered my chest the other day
let out the butterflies behind my ribcage
spilled sparrowsong from my wrists
good god, i'm finally free

you guys
are all
just
shallow believers

you guys are all
just

and i'm not afraid to fight
and i'm not afraid to die
and i
am
not
afraid.

[actually, i am not
much of anything right now]


and i.


there are days when i find it
immeasurably
desirable
to just rip my organs out-

-just rip them
right ******* out,
i never knew nails could dig through flesh like
that until she did it-

- blood spattering all over that painting i
just finished, dear what a waste i was
going to get an a on that.


there's a hollow right behind my heart
that i can't feel until you leave
i feel
incomplete without you, that's what
love is
but i don't-
can't-
love you
because if i did
i'd feel too guilty when i hurt you
and believe me darling i can hurt you.


[ icanhurtyou ]


there's the kind of girl you don't want to love
because she doesn't care
[about you]
at all and that is me.

there's that girl.  
sitting on the rooftops
like she
gives a
****
about her image
she's not vain she's just conflicted
and she's sitting there
like she
gives a ****.

there's a war going on
in my head and it's
****** gruesome.
the doctor diagnosed me
with self-induced apathy
and he was
so right
i
ripped my
heart
out-

i hate my emotions
so much i
tear them apart
and keep them
like secrets
in the pit of my stomach.
they're better food than the lies she told me

and so much sweeter

and i [.]

lied too, forgive me dear.  
forgive me for not wanting to feel.

i
am
too
afraid.

stars and stardust fall to freedom
from the press corpse,
from the incessant demand of chemical crises.
crowds ache for love or a substitute
and false amore is what they have.
love is folie a deux-
[the shared madness of two.]
attachment is an affliction,
infatuation is disease leaping from remission,
with deadly symptoms.
red roses lead to black coffin doors,
roses dropped on floors
from vases shattered,
and life is the water spilling from the stems.

golden hair won't keep me docile-
blue eyes and a smile
are weapons of mass destruction-
cities sunk and flags risen
from the depths of inhumanity.
it's all for you, Helen, and humankind will never
perceive its aftereffects,
its hangover headache
sprawled over the world on a bad day.
little city partylights and shiny beer bottles
broken upon the concrete
covering the grass.
reflections of insanity upon the glass.

devilish, the temptress,
the succubus, a mistress
sent by Him, to spin doubt into
the spiderwebbed life of family trees
split in two by axes, divorces
to fifty percent, no-
no wedding band-aid will stop this flood.
abandonment.
neglect gets to a child's head-
can't help but wonder if
they were the cause of this.
little anchors,
keeping the heart in one place-
an anchored rubber band that demoness
stretched and snapped.
the relapse gave her whiplash, and
the stepdad whipped the boy's back, and
the boy grew up and
found a girl to take his pain to.
she gave him five stunted children,
with eyes hollow and glazed,
a mechanical response to a command.

lack of emotion only seems cruel
to those on the other side.
lack of flourish means nothing
to those who grew up to grey skies.

chains and handcuffs keep stardust grounded,
remains from a nebula which
birthed a black hole.
straight razors and pinky nails
teach fledglings to reach for the sky
and never fall back down.
glass ceilings never seemed so
breakable- tiptoe upsidedown
and reach the other side
before you fall back down to the real world.

angels have no eyes.
angels have no souls.
angels judge and leave the helpless for below.
cliffsides crumble and clouds dissipate,
and the devil lends a hand-
he is helping sinners make it up to him.
in his face sit eyes gleaming brightly;
there are teeth grinning, off-white-
he is human, though sadistic
and he understands your plight.
the devil is forgiving,
and you understand nothing, because you
are nothing.
you are nothing.

stars and stardust fall to freedom, and the devil takes in all.

i was reborn, like a phoenix
but without all the glory.
i didn't set the hospital on fire; i struggled  
to pull myself from the ashes
of a former prodigy,
one entwined with madness
in all the right ways
laced with misery like a noir heroine,
so sexily depressing-
whereas now i am just empty

i did not emerge unscathed, no,
not like the fledgling, i
am covered in scars and faultlines from where
the sorrow tried rip itself
from my sorry body
and the crimson glue holding me together
replenishes itself more diluted each time

before i died
i swung through technicolor
episodes of scarlet, rose,
ecstatic white, and the
sapphire blue to haunt my dreams
waking and at night
but the color leached away,
the antiseptic began to pervade, refilled my veins
and purged me of everything but grey.

before my death,
i reigned over the darkness, banished it
when it did not suit me,
manipulated reason, lived in a waking dreamland,
in complete control of my life-
but now, when i am fragile as eggshell,
it's the only place i can hide,
a haven where i can act like the lack of light
masks an imagined vivacity and not a skeleton in flat black and white,
disguises and emboldens me,
allows me to be whole again,
to forget the borders, my limitations
indiscernable in dusk

i used to cast my own light-
now i am my own shadow
and in the dark i fumble for
what i used to be,
reconnect myself with the world
throw myself from the cliff
and hope to find my wings again

he was nearly twentynine and he still hadn't figured himself out,
still dedicated nights to the process of tearing up his moral ground,
laying his foundation, caught up in vacillation
between acts of possible valor- the ones to turn his life around.

he knew he would know somehow when he finally got it right
he was looking for that one sign-
the one they talk about in movies and
all the books which leave you shattered at the end,
the ones no one else has read but those who do
swear upon like they've never heard of the bible,
try to imitate the main character,
stumble into chaos and think they'll end up all right,
like in the movies-
a lucky plot twist and they'll own the night.

he wandered aimlessly,
up until the sun came out and the vampires went to sleep,
accompanied by cigarettes and the sound of his own head,
burned dirt and the cold of the city,
until the time of night where his words stalled
brain froze
and the space in his head became suddenly visceral,
paralyzed by feeling until his tongue and the roof of his mouth
sought each other out, pressed in a warm embrace
until the pain went away
until he closed up the wound behind his eyes
forgot the torment of seeing
until the night tore him open again.

i'll always be there outside of the box
where you spill out your burdens to god
tell me everything you've done wrong-
just unpend your sins, you're cleansed, now you win

i'm
the convenient answer
to feeling remorseful about what you've done
made a mistake?  i'm here, don't you wait
i've got all the time you need

and on it goes; my shoulder
for you to lean on will always be there
but don't bother to ask me how i'm doing-
you're not supposed to care

i'm tired of being used like an old *****
you rip me to shreds, leave my tongue on the floor
i'm speechless, i'm hurting, held back by my pride
i'm letting my ego take over my mind
i'm playing callous like it's some sort of game
pretending i'm fine when i'm driven insane
you take the wheel from me, steer into a ditch
leaving me battered and broken, unimpressed, not spoken

i've got
my tongue tied in knots
from navigating the tangled webs you drag me through
but i
will never let myself lose

i need to destroy something, run it right through
to reflect my insides after speaking to you
and maybe i'm just a bitter young *****,
but i'll take a hit, and i won't let you miss  

so drive me into the ground
i won't be beaten down
you can't do much to me;
i can't get much lower now
how far can you bring me down?
yeah, i'll hold my ground

i'm tired of hearing each of your confessions
simply not being able is not a transgression
you're weighing me down with your innocent guilt
i won't feel your trauma if no souls were spilt

i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
your drama won't make or break you
it's no calamity if she hates you

i'm tired of hearing about your petty fights
scuffling over my business won't help with your strife
you think being hateful will show me the light?
you're wrong, good riddance, get out of my life
something so intrinsic isn't abomination
no matter your creed or your denomination
your social life will never make you a saint
and confessing won't stave off my hate

i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
get off of my shoulder, take your own ******* boulder
and live your own life for a bit
don't confess, i'm not impressed,
just live your life and leave me be.