Kiss your lips
And inhale laughter,
Oh god, the way
Your mouth curls,
Eyes become
Gentle slits,
And the bending
Of your brow
Insists on
Intimacy,
Every ounce
Of my soul
Says, "Yes,
Please."

These clothes, they hide
These clothes, conceal
And when these clothes slide off
There's nothing left to reveal

Unhooked clasps
Undone buttons
Just unwrap this body
'Til absolutely nothin'

My raw self for
Only you to view
Removing this fabric
Is saying that I trust you

Dying slow in the mountains seemed much easier than simply breathing at sea level.

I've been thinking that maybe I was happier when I was still drinking.

I tried to write a poem called Pointless and never made it beyond the title.

Dying seems easier than breathing at sea level.

r ~ 11/7/14

It's hard to say
When the first onset
Of insecurities
Had taken place

Was it at 17?
When I stared deep
Into the mirror
Despising the reflection?

Was it at 15?
When I dug my fingernails
Into the side of my thigh
When he made me feel like used garbage?

Was it at 13?
When I showed
My mom that award
And it was carelessly tossed on the table?

Was it at 11?
When the snickers
Of my classmates
Reached my heart?

Was it at 9?
When I watched
Mother try to desperately
Cover her imperfections with powder?

Self love?
Self love?
Self love can't dwindle away
When it never existed.

And now at the age
Of barely 20,
I've been searching
The ground
For a speck
Of confidence
And trying my best
To piece together
A backbone
That I never had.

i ate my own heart
so i wouldnt feel
and now i have an appetite
for beating pulses.
no guilt
no remorse.
i'll feed on your organs
until you are a
deflated
and
sad
little boy

Whenever I feel
Even the smallest glimmer  
Of happiness
I hold on so tight
It suffocates

Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
At your pale white gown;
Or lift one of the green beads
Of your necklace,
To let it fall;
Or gaze at your green fan
Printed with the red branches of a red willow;
Or, with one finger,
Move the leaf in the bowl--
The leaf that has fallen from the branches of the forsythia
Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously your heart is beating.

If I had a shiny gun,
I could have a world of fun
Speeding bullets through the brains
Of the folk who give me pains;

Or had I some poison gas,
I could make the moments pass
Bumping off a number of
People whom I do not love.

But I have no lethal weapon-
Thus does Fate our pleasure step on!
So they still are quick and well
Who should be, by rights, in hell.

Because one is beauty and one is decay
Because they’re both French
And French things are beautiful
Like those wispy girls, who are skin and bones,
Dragging their paper thin legs in their louboutins
Leaving the red sole behind them

And the word “coquette”
Because it sounds beautiful and ***** at the same time
Like all vain women

As I breathe in the smoke
I feel weightless
Skinny
Until my mouth is fire
Like a phoenix
But I will soon become ash
Floating loftily above the ground
With my cigarettes in my chanel purse