A lake is forgiving
it shields the swimmer from the contents of it's murky waters
It was a hot day
I was probably sunburned
My hair stuck to the back if my neck
I twirled a little, in my inner-tube
and tossed back my head
aimlessly gawking at the whirling sky
and loosed my grip.

As I slipped into the water
I was spinning like a top
I didn't know what way was up
It seemed like every direction
was infinite.
What if I kept going down?
Surely, I would drown.

But...what if I kept going down?

I'd at least like to lurk in your subconscious mind
if I my hands can't wander
through your forest of hair
or your smooth sands of skin.

At least, I'd like to sit in the smallest
chamber of your heart
giddily pulling the strings
if I can't dive in to a chocolatey iris
or curl up in your fleshy twigs.

I'd like, at least, for you to wonder
if I've melted into someone else's body
wonder if I've touched someone
who made me feel like a bit more
human than you could.

Because I sit and wonder often
about the past form of you and I,
I would die upon any indication
that you do not.

smalltalk says it's a nice day, though it is cold
i loathe the bright clear sky
it's blindingly honest
i've got to squint my eyes

and it reminds me of you

the shiny wonder of possibility
always prevails
over the reverberating
thud
of imminent disappointment

I try to keep
a positive mind
but hard when I know
it's only a matter of time
before it all
***** up again.
I'd like to get off this
I don't know how to stop this
Don't look at me
when I wreck into the ground
Don't make a sound
when you watch me
disappear.

Sitting in an empty room
Of an empty house
Feels more like walking into a mirror

Destroy your body
after you realize
you can't destroy your soul.
You will always be aware of your body, now.
This is a new world,
you've entered a new layer of yourself,
quite literally.
Remember to walk carefully
or you'll be bursting at the seams.
Keep that look out of your eyes
should someone be able to see through,
or worse: sympathize.
See the ones who know the feeling
must be avoided.
They are fragile, like you.
You would surely destroy them.
And, darling,
nobody wants sweep up
two broken people.

I think we left
pieces of ourselves
together,
on satin pillowcases,
under our fingernails,
in that corner booth where the lighting, you said, made my face look like fresh snow.
I can feel those pieces of me
blinking patiently at yours
I think they are waiting.
I think they are wondering
when we'll come back.

Is it selfish of me to fear
that I won't get any more
than I've got?
Sometimes I think
that I'll die
without conviction
or principle.
Somewhere, a part of me knows
that nobody will ever really
see me.
What if I've left things behind
that I never remember again?

Well, I am getting over you
which is good, but not the point.
The thing is, I never wanted to
but I didn't have much of a choice.
I guess I could hate you for leaving
me to deal with unfinished business
…and I do.
I really, really do.

I often forget moments
and people
and things
the problem is
I never forget feelings
I'm left with them
octo-tangled
untethered
to memory.

Waiting for the feeling to return
like running inside,
pulling off frost-bitten mittens
and holding your hands close
stretch your fingers and
warmth returns.
but the frost is on the inside
this time, there is nothing
to be done.
walk like a waking dream
that never fades away
speaking of things that mean
nothing to you as the auto-pilot
kicks in.
your real self is too exhausted
to run the show
too tired to regret
sleeping life away;
dreaming reality away…
tell yourself that you will return
*'someday'

i wrote you a page or two
of poetry and prose
that I hope you never
have to see.
the sun came out today
and blew my cover
what's to blame for my mood, now?
the cloudless sky
leaves nothing in question

If you haunt me
haunt me
haunt me
only because you
want me
Please don't
dissappoint me
I can't take that
anymore
Something tells me
I'm already gone
anyway

I accept a all the lies I've told
and the consequences
that are sure to follow me.
I will not, do not, feel sorry for them.
They have grown into my body
instrinsic to my spirit
that I refuse to let anyone see.
I will not detach the black holes
from my body.
I will not let them die.

there are brief moments when I can smell death
for a second, ******* I can taste it
and it makes me believe that it is preferable
to whatever the alternatives are.
never can I sense the aroma
when I contemplate suicide
with hot tears running down
my impassible face covered by the shade of night.
it is when I am in fair spirits
then suddenly someone laughs
and more someone's laughs
and I do not
Why hasn't joy infected me, too?
Then is when I taste it
A bittersweetness that is better
than bland that I've been tasting.
Or perhaps when someone asks me a question
seconds pass and I've opened twice only to shut it
I don't know… is all I can muster
because my mind is stimulated by sweetness again
by death

Whenever your eyes glaze over
after I've just giddily completed a story
I feel like beheading myself
without leaving a note.

******* on my neck
I can feel it rushing by...
The rhythm of my body
is a song I often tire of.
It's stuck there
the record is skipping
and I cannot reach the needle.

Eight was my limit.
Anyway, I lost count at twenty five.
It wasn't my intention
What was my intention

Perhaps I thought it would all fade away gently
How one seems to forget their most vivid of dreams
and awakens, crestfallen, with only imprints from an imagined world

After an hour I was laying on the floor
Slowly realizing I couldn't move anymore
Not that I would want to
Not that I would need to
Anymore

It's nice to have new ideas
though you know you're not the first one
and certainly not the last

sometimes it feel likes
my mind is wandering
through twisted halls of a circular maze
round and round until I reach a center
and there is a path
that cuts through the labyrinth
and I am released,
my god I am free
once again

• Keep me posted!
• Look at my hands for a while.
• You can be yourself around me.
• Hold me when I need it.
• Smile when I feel threatened.
• Look me in the eye.
• Think about the effect you have on me.
• Don't underestimate me.

I've always liked brown eyes.
I guess they seem the most natural.
Yours were like mossy cross sections of a tree,
after it rained,
with ring upon ring of history.
Sometimes I would try to count them,
I doubt you ever noticed.
But all I could ever quantify
were all the ways
that you were too much for me
and I, too little for you.

A slow ache,
that comes as the price of solitude,
doesn't sound so bad
when you first make the deal.
“I'll take it!”
Whatever the cost.
All that matters is that my heart
is now solid plaster
and the rest is machine.

What the hell
My life does not live
anymore
it is a balancing act
of keeping the mask from slipping
and putting one foot
in front of the other
Oh, god
my senses do not feel
anymore
my hands clap
my lips curl
and I do not know why
Oh, god
my train is moving
but my brain is still
my muscles are not what propels me
it is only the longing
to reach the moment
when it all
falls apart

And what is it
that makes the walls
bend and crackle
in the night?
These things we now ignore
are not without reason.
What would cause a person
to awaken into a quiet, dark room
in the middle of the night?
The ringing in your ears,
it has a rhythm.
Doesn't it seem to
mean something?

One day
you will have to look in the mirror
and see yourself

some can fill up rooms
with wet strings
of wet words
and they all splash around
with each other

noise
can be measured
and calculated
but there is no unit
for the dry absence
of sound

I would rather sit in the closet
behind an armor of blouses
scribbling on a page that will never
know what my eyes look like
when they cry.

I would rather fantasize about
slamming my head onto the desk
before me
while everyone watches


I would rather ***** my feelings
on an internet stranger
who did not ask to be my receptacle

It's the little things in life that matter.
Little things.
Like a little shard of an excruciating moment
that has the power to burrow under your skin.
A little, shallow sigh you weren't meant to hear.
A small group of bright people
laughing,
but you are not laughing.

“It's the little things!”
Little 'things'
that crawl down your throat at night
and make a heavy home in your stomach.
The little things
that will always find you.
The little things
that seem to soak through every pore.
And you will find yourself
scratching and clawing
and trying to laugh along,
Because life is all about
the little things.

Downy flowing dripping
That metallic taste in my mouth
I knew there was something wrong
with me before I knew
what it was
I still don't know exactly
But I do know for sure
when I step into a room
no one looks to the door

I walked around the lake
but it didn't feel like a lake
anymore
my path was paved
the trees were shaved
and the water
was quiet.

a goose stopped to ogle me
and the other passers-by
it craned up its neck
and yawped
like a cry for help

I'd like to lose myself
in something like you.
l'd like to get out of here
and forget to wonder
where I might be.

I'd like to lose myself,
only you can't lose what you never had.
I never expected much of myself,
but, in vain, I did expect something.

I waited for you.
I wait for you all the time.
When you're with me I'm waiting for you,
in my sleep I wait for you,
in my dreams I wonder where you are.
I look at you, and I wonder where you are.
Patience is my only weapon.

someday your old selves will come
knocking on your door
or tapping on your shoulder
with big pupils and dry lips
at first, you might not recognize them
and invite them in
and they might devour you
or they might find their old home
either way, it's all over

even live blood gets cold
at least, yours did
at least, I think it did
I wouldn't really know, I suppose
I felt warmth in your words because
we never really spoke in prose
I guess I thought our rhythm
would never be broken