You are the vibrations;
deep blues
orange saturations
feathered red
drips of copper
yellow strands
charcoal shadow of the sea
river in my veins.

In the palm of my hand,
You placed
The sun.

I couldn't stand thinking about you;
I started drinking about you.
Wine ran thin,
morphed to blood.
You called me psychotic,
I've just seen too much of you to be sane.
Like bruised ribs
and eyes black as the pit in your chest.
Where is your heart?
Washed away in the rain,
dripping through cracks
so girls below can catch a glimpse of hell.
Enough is enough.
The words inside melodies never say anything new,
but I listen on repeat just in case
I catch a glimpse of anything true.
Or things I lost when the flood broke my bones,
Making an enemy ship of our sullen home.

Sitting by the window of an unfriendly room,
baffled voices surround an unquenchable core.
Digging my nails into flesh on my wrist,
I crack both big toes.
All the while, your limbs travel my inner eye lids.
Something simple as a blade of grass,
complex as The Birth of Venus cracking the surface of the sea.
Strings lace the cortex of my mind,
until all that remains are two puppets;
metal spokes force your eyes
to exonerate mine.

I woke up ******* on the moon.
Ear to sand,
All the ocean sang was him.
Like art,
Not meant for beauty,
Only tears.

In the palm of your hand an augur collects dew,
Closer to molten rock then lava,
Like skin on glue.
Jeremiad tongues connect with one kiss
Of the first lover of his kind
Never to be missed.
Amongst skipping stones and a de facto home,
Books stack high between beds made of bone.
Excavating a rib cage only to find a heart, hard
Stripping each symbol of protection
On a door fire charred.
Your eyes choked love
Words tore veins slow
Burning the worst fire I'll ever know.

Headphones and fried food,
metabolisms and ****** moods.
Broken condoms; beer pong,
scraped up knees, rip the ****.
Scratched wrists;
That kiss was more than just a kiss.
Mirrors, scales,
headaches, high heels.
Anti-depressants, cold sores,
***** toe nails, clogged pores.
Bare feet, torn shirts,
sweat covered forehead, short skirts.
Lace bra on the floor,
don't forget to lock the door
Pimples and Prozac;
******* and match making.
You can always tell when she's faking.
Pierced ears, cheap beers,
blow jobs and rich snobs.
To your last family party and first cigarette;
Raspberry tinted ***** and the first name you try to forget.
Stained underwear, tweezers and straightened hair.
Mascara and flat irons,
But in all honesty
What the **** is a flat iron?
To rice cakes and heartaches
Lice and love and public bathrooms.
Undercover cops,
Plan B and mushrooms.
A bruise so sore,
what's there to live for?
Can't have my love, can't have my *****,

what happened to the right to choose?