Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MJ Apr 2017

is hard to define

So don’t.
MJ Feb 2014
pinning wine bags to the walls
another pair of puckered lips waking me up at 4am
coming home to *****'s dry pint
surrounded by pieces of my soul embodied
arms that go numb under half a night's sleep
bodies that move into each other,
unaware of boundaries
british accents, slapping and fapping
kissing secretly by a coffee ***
a dark room with that wonderful young sting
and grit of alcohol
on top of alcohol
on top of lemonade
legs kicking up, world upside-down
the consistency of blurred laughs, real laughs
the feeling of a girl or a boy
the warmth of being on someone's mind
this is happiness
this is what i've looked for
last year, summer, for a long time
MJ Mar 2018
there is a type of love
that never hurts.
some whispering hope
that finds you
in a world
full of dark.
it's not something you find
it is found
effortlessly together. two at once.
right place, right time,
right one.
you just become.
year after year after year
no sight of pain
in each others' eyes.
no doubts.
strong hands
holding yours.
louder words
when yours are gone.
MJ Dec 2016
white delight is a hard train seat, a ***** shirt, and used dishes in the sink. it is hot water in a dark tub; the animal in your arms; the empty bottles over there. white delight is pure and quick but also slow. it shows up late and stays, most times, too long. white delight is the taste of bleeding lips; it is the sound of a voice whispering a name. white delight is a family's past and a greeting's future. it is the feeling of hands on skin in bed. it is the twang in the truck; the distance of cities; the beating heart of every lover ever loved.
This piece is an imitation of Mary Ruefle's untitled piece in her book, "My Private Property."
MJ Feb 2018
the clenching of her worn down jaw
a waterfall of wine.

the hair in both her burning hands
a few more miles gone.

the tears that come, all loose and fast
a guess becomes a fact.

the ending of this sour end
a little she might grow.
MJ Aug 2017
On hot nights

he dreams of me

Holding his heart

in my hands
MJ Jan 2018
without the sound of rain she is lazy. without the taste of *****, she's

awkward. without a tan, too pale; without a page to turn,

lonely. without a song to hear she is calm. with no party, she is her

own. without a shower, she's disgusting. without blindness, she's

cute in those glasses. without food she looks like she should eat,

and with no lover,

she is sort of lost. without a smile, she seems depressed. without

kissing she is ***** and with no bra she is a ****. without laughter

she is bored. without the ability to remember, she is thankful, as well

as naive. without the ocean she is suffocated, with no future she is

trapped. and without hope, she is most hopeful; without herself, she

is a shell.
MJ Mar 2015
At 4a.m. when it goes quiet
it’s just the chimes and me again
and I feel how lonely they must feel
calling and singing
with no one awake to hear them

The only dreams I have consist of pain
skin, stomach, palms, face
I can't sleep

And I know the only person
who could make me feel okay
would only be capable of doing that
three years ago
MJ Jun 2018

is a song he plays with closed eyes,

heartbreaking and angry,

volumes of many shameful pasts

singing through her chest.


is a book he reads with open hands,

her stories scrawled into skin,

like a braille

only he can speak.


is the box in which he keeps his heart,

****** and beating

trusting that it's safe.
MJ Mar 2018
11 pounds lighter. 3 shades more red. Dreaming of something opposite of death. Really sleeping again. Running. Showing teeth. Using my all-time-favorite pens. Listening loudly. Slowly moving in to the world. Feeling skin. Warming my cold hands. Reconciling with the body. Complimented. Coming. Reassured. Sorry, but for once, not for myself. Watching someone watch. Thankful for this life.
MJ Aug 2017
there is
a           mess
about her,

towards  open



below pale

refusing to sit

so structurally,
so secured

in flesh.

and      swelling,



she so calmly

isn’t there.

MJ Apr 2016
I tried to fill my holes with the appendages of others' bodies and at the time it was unclear but nothing was working. nothing. holes were still holy as ever-- just more noisy. loud. like one of those naked embarrassed stuttering confusion howls. and it was all a sound we all made together as I forced our jaws open just to watch them kiss and move. just to see my own civility get lost among the skins.
MJ Oct 2015
I come here to ******* and cry
where it is silent and loud at the same time

the porcelain statues watch and release temporal tears
in a painful response
to my nonsensical quivering of the mouth
and squinting of the eyes

there it is again
that baked salt
on the roof of my mouth, the ends of my fingernails

It almost came last night,
but I stopped it with a breath before it got close
to ruining me again
MJ Feb 2016
I have used you as a weapon,
and I have used you as a gift

For retribution,
for adoration

To give pleasure,
or bring pain

Behind a ***** dumpster,
the back seat of a dark green car,
on the loose lid of their old washing machine,
the crusty crack of an overused couch.

In several steaming showers,
and in several sultry beds,
bouncing on a trampoline,
lying pants-less on prickers in the woods.

****** up in a festival tent,
the floor of a motorcycle trailer,
under covers of a comfy bed,
in a white-walled hotel room.

To bring pain,
or give pleasure

For adoration,
for retribution

I have used you as a gift,
and I have used you as a weapon
MJ Aug 2017
there are boys
whose names
i don't remember.

not because
i can't,
only because
i don't.

there are boys
whose names
i can't forget.

not because
i don't,
only because
i can't.
MJ Oct 2017
my mind
is a cage
made from steel
nasty comments
gory images
always renovating
making room
for more.

my mind
is an ocean horizon
so open
so brutal
always being explored
each secret
and seen.
MJ Oct 2014
suckin’ down cancer

thinking about thoughts

being drunk
and sad

always so secretly sad
MJ Oct 2017
i am




in love
MJ Oct 2014
There’s a tapeworm inside me
I’ve tried to get it out for years
everything I put in, it eats up

I tried to drown it with *****
and tire it with no sleep
and cut it out with another’s love

But I’ve realized it will never leave
because once you get your first tapeworm
it stays with you

So I’ve befriended it;
when it’s hungry, I feed him,
when it’s sad, I rock his sorrows in my warm belly

Maybe someday it will leave
but I fear that day
I’ll just begin
growing another inside me
MJ May 2016
I ride the backs of rumbling bikes
and drink ***** in my bed.
Or play the same dumb songs
so I can speak the past.
I change my yellow hair
to red
in moments that sit still.
And I sometimes enjoy acid
in the tall grass
holding blue wolves.
I rip apart the drawing
because it stares too long
and tape it back together
but he never comes.
MJ Dec 2013
The way you look at me always ropes me back in
I try to stand on the other side
Avoiding your deep eyes
but regardless of how much I push
you pull
and i'm next to you
on the couch, on the armchair
I can see you watching me
yeah, I saw it all night
It's like there was no time lost
I feel like I'm 19
I realize I miss you
Your long lips, thumb following their lead
I thought I would die
Waiting to feel it all again
But I haven't died
and the chance never came
and I wait for a hard push
Against panels on the side of a house
For my legs to curl
as I'm lifted up
and we are secretly in love again
For a few drunken kisses
MJ Dec 2017
A humming hive
Of strong winged moths
Lived inside this chest
He blew them in
Kissing on the floor
These days they cling
To every dying nerve
Waiting for his return
MJ Feb 2014
You’re A Cool Girl
but there is a point
this weird point where i have feelings
i've been used and walked on
i can usually expect it

after your hand on the bottom of my soft-hole sweater
above my tailbone
your winking eyes
feeling like a princess (that i've never been)
you pulled my chair out
we had *****
in the dark

you pushed me over and kissed my mouth
I Love That You Exist*
and then you left
without a third thought
MJ Mar 2016
I liked biting his perfect skin.
I liked being able to look at the purple and red marks and the feelings they induced.
The feeling that he was mine.
That I had damaged him that way.
MJ Jul 2015
The realization that the notion of change means nothing, brought in by tears at the exact magic stroke of midnight in Donald Trump’s New York hotel, Manhattan. Bookstores buying everything in sight to build an impression, being calm being calm, loving hands are held. Seeing winter trees so quiet in such a small mulled-wine-man-made town, searching for dead women down the curves of subdivisions in the dark. Waking wrapped inside scratchy childhood blankets that kept me awake last night, kissing that face near running hot water, shivering legs always trying not to be heard
MJ Mar 2017
when he kissed me it felt like a plea. i could taste the ginger in my throat. when i kissed back it looked like a mountain. A certainly steep one i once hiked in oregon.
MJ Sep 2017
the freeway was loud, screaming below their feet, truck drivers at 80 and up, the west coast late night norm. higher decibels made them feel more properly hidden taking bumps from the bag, and she sniffed in and thought of how she wasn't expecting this night, but she was lonely, hopeful, a wreck. he sniffed harder and he tugged down on his hat, realizing just how unprepared he was for the way she looked at him.
MJ Jul 2016
My old crow
dislikes truth or dare
because he’s scared of both.

My pirate
drinks old crow
because it’s cheap and smooth.

My chef
eats my *****
as often as he cooks.

My new friend
knows me more
than I can admit.

My roommate
has eyes that stretch
from 29 years of sleep.

My coworker
kisses my hand
in daylight on the streets.

And my lover
is now my love
because he grows too quick.
MJ Sep 19
She thinks

she can wear those things:


Like nothin' *****

Ever happened.
MJ Apr 2017
I cleaned today and un-tied a simpson’s themed scarf, a belt, and a checkered shoelace. I had to cut the shoelace with scissors though because the knot was too tight. When there isn’t rope, other long things we keep around the house, like these, become rope, and are used to hold my legs or wrists in place, usually both.
I organized my nightstand drawer and sorted pills by color and size. There were some really, really, small purple ones that fell out of a broken bottle. There were three gigantic ones that my doctor told me to finish, “even if it didn’t feel like I had an ear infection anymore.”
I washed my sheets for the first time in weeks and when I carried them down the stairs I could smell their stink. I get sweaty in my sleep even though the nightmares tapered off months ago. At 3:07 last night we woke up because we thought I wet the bed, which I do from time to time, so it's hard to tell the difference.
MJ Jun 2015
I know you
probably better than most
You bring me tears on Sundays
Self hatred in the mornings
You corrode my liver
And shame me with embarrassment
to a point that makes me wish I was dead
You are degrading
And hating
And sickening
But one of the truest friends
I have ever known
MJ Aug 2013
acid: four times
breaking bad: three times
cried: six times
drunk: fifteen times
embarrassed: six times
****(ing/ed): thirty seven times
hate(s): seven times
idiot: three times
****: three times
lonely: five times
love: nine times
sad: four times
***: five times
trust: three times

August 28th, 2012- January 27th, 2013

MJ Feb 2015
Let me in
Up the stairs
The cold hall and through the always-opened door
I'll sit myself far and try to look pretty
Into your mouth and down your lungs
Let me know the air you breathe, like I used to
My mouth will move, too
Our sounds will mix and harmonize
In the exact way you don't want them to
MJ Sep 19
are   beginning
to be                    

i open your
door and i  expect
but  nothing            
                               ­      comes.

are    starting

my love

are   beginning
MJ Jan 2018
i did not know you
as the kind of man
to see
bleeding holes
and sing loudly
of defeat
MJ Dec 2016
In the morning
There was blood in the bed.
I thought maybe it was a dream
But then you're awake
and the sun is bright through the blinds
and your heart is still shouting his name.
I wish I could say it wasn't real.
I wish it didn't hurt today,
Saying I love you.
But truth is a starved dog
Just off its chains.
Can't ******* wait
To sink its teeth
Into anything that thrives.
It's gonna clench its jaw
Until you're blue,
Right when you thought you knew everything.
And you'll be left
Sleeping with eyes open
Because you were wrong
To think
You had it so good.
MJ Aug 2019
Saw him in my sleep last night

Held me close, kissed my eyes

He said
Honey, you're used up

broken and bleeding, staining these streets

He said
Darlin', you're dreaming

wake yourself up now, before I leave

Devil's skin with Angel's smile

Wished for him, just like a child

He cried
You're Holy

Kissed my scars, made me weak

He spat
Oh Worthless

Don't make a sound
as I pull these teeth
MJ Sep 2015
locusts and loud crickets splay
soft songs over hot swells

a banjo strums
its twines of moss
snap the frail shell

its conjuring my missed sounds
they go faintly past my ears
MJ Aug 2013
I have not absorbed this part of my life in a long time
at least it feels that way
The unripe orbs of nostalgia have been
betrayed like myself
regretted like you
and forgotten unlike us
So easily bruised
Lost but unwanted, always tracked
on the screaming suffering, rip-cycling
ledges of cliffs
of that once famished mind
The night at Red Lobster
The hospital
The round about and confusion
They weren't famished
but we were

MJ Sep 27
Love came easily to me

it was never sparse.

That's how

I touched so many others

trying to break your scarce heart.
MJ Apr 2017
There was a scarf over his open eyes and her stomach seemed emptier than the icky yellow walls of her new apartment. A bottle being kicked outside echoed glassy sharp sounds, hard against cement, and it was probably 11:47 am. Staying awake for 48 hours was harder than she remembered, but not harder than she realized. It was the same for staying faithful, although, that wasn’t really true.
MJ Aug 2016
like ones

I wished to see

meeting mine

through my face
down my spine

they never did
no matter
the shape
I made

so those before
they watched me fade

I glow now
when ours get stuck

his are the ones

open me up!
MJ Nov 2015
Two nights ago I sat above the new apartment sign, my naked body dangling on its brick-laid edge. Cramped lights seared the parts of my legs they touched and it reminded me of watching pieces of fish in the oven. A breeze skated across my upper arm and ******, making me cold but awakening warm memories, ones taken from the house in the city that I cannot outrun. The fingers on my right hand prodded a cigarette into the crack of my lips as I tried to remember those four numbers, 37 and 62, and the circumstances under which I had deemed myself happy.

It seemed that we were almost-always-unabashedly *******, or at least I was, but there was that thoroughly **** time-- the night at the lake. Graceless games of Truth or Dare escorted shots of ***** into our mouths and conducted secrets out. Bottles’ tin caps clicked open as we split the clear contents inside, shook the smaller one, held it to the nose, waited for the levels of our laughter to rise like specs in the night sky: Pop, pop, pop! Up and up we went, watching down below, leaving life behind, fading away like the dimmed city stars.

I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth, releasing the white smoke. My mind searched for a time in life when smiling had come so easily, but the answer stayed the same.
MJ Sep 2016
It pulls me
by the leash
we bought together
some years ago.

Which cuts into
my neck’s thin skin--
            Too tight!
yanking me down alleys,
up cement stairs,
through humid, hot-boy bars.

Even when I see blood
the cloth,
I refuse to fight back.

That city
trained me
not to disobey.

When I return to bed
on the other side of the world,
there’s lots of sweat
and wonderfully violent dreams
that feel as familiar
as waving goodbye.

my city and I
are incapable of doing.
MJ Jul 2016
Usually I write when I am sad; for that is my inspiration, like your writings about death, and that’s it: the secret to writing is depression, sadness, loss, pain-- isn’t it?--and you make me want to write, but I can’t because I haven’t been sad, I’ve been content in this healing process, while the scar on my right cheekbone fades from swollen red to flat cherry, my mind fades from paranoid-obsessed to tranquil-normal, and you are a large part of that softening.

I want to write about us and you and this new chapter of my life, but between our little dates and tear-filled laughs, I can’t seem to find the time, and I’m so thankful for that and you and me, and my strength and your understanding, like yesterday, when we laid like hibernating caterpillars in our floor-bed cocoon, watching the full season of that show, followed by another movie, and yet, more television, and then slipped into bed, where I'd hoped you’d take my clothes off, and you did, in the dark, in my ***** cat-**** blankets, you lifted my Alex Grey shirt off and kissed me, pushed my left knee far away and it slid across the white sheet with a sound that made me want you more, your touches were, as always, so soft, as was the way you licked my bottom lip like candy.

I love that you do things that I am too shy to do, I’ve never had this before and I love the way I can make you laugh until you cry, and of course, your hair and big color shifting eyes and soft lips, and your slender fingers and the way they pluck delicately while your voice is quiet, giving me chills, which is why I am saying I am not sad, I am not feeling pain, I am feeling the lust and joy of healing and normalcy, I am feeling you and me and us and my new life outside of what I had known, just two months ago.
MJ Apr 2018
Wherever you've gone, it was a long time ago.

With a bike,
and a backpack,
Just mouths saying no.

Wherever you've gone, I can't see it from here.

Can't hear it,
can't dream it,
You just disappeared.

Wherever you've gone, seems the days are real bright.

Made of future,
and options,
No thoughts of bad nights.

Wherever you've gone, I hope you stay there.

Maybe one day,
I too,
Will breathe that fresh air.
MJ Sep 19
You are like a ghost now,

a ghost who's just tired of haunting me.
MJ Sep 19
First bitten kisses
that bleeding lip
ashes from our past
in this blanket
I wrapped them up
just to say goodbye
Wrapped up,

just say goodbye

Before you left
you said
please, don't cry
take care of yourself
you'll be all right
You wrapped me up
just to say goodbye
Wrapped up,

just say goodbye

Last ***** glances
from up way up high
you took me up there
birthday midnight sky
We were wrapped up
just to say goodbye
Wrapped up,

just say goodbye
MJ Apr 2018
For weeks, which felt like years, that small room was the whole World and every thing in it.
For days, which should have been their own, one linked and looped with the next and taught me to shame the sun.
After one week, I found out that a bed was like an aging body; the more it was used, the more I could feel its once-sturdy frame bend and sag, and the squeaking grew and the metal groaned below my sweating skin.
After two days, I found out that a bed was also the most dependable of life rafts, which safely kept me floating above the forever-blackening sea, where I’d once sworn I’d take my last wet and feeble breath.
While this one-room World swallowed fears and held trembling hands tight, it began to whisper in the night; one wall repeated rumors it heard from its opposite: warnings of the Outside and all the dangers it could bring.
“Those you pass on the road will stare with the knowledge that you are out-of-place, that you do not remember normal,” whispered the plaster on my right.
         "And the many men leaning in to corners of brick could yell or touch or chase, you don’t want that again, not again, right?” hissed the wall to the left.
        No, I do not want any of it, I replied through a hazy dream.
After their whisperings stuck, I discovered that the notion and act of sleep had the ability to slyly slip away, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.
         Sleep. Slep. Seep. Spl. Shut. Shh. Sleep? Silence. Close. Dark. Down…
When sleep became a habit of the past, anxiety became the habit of the present and the terror of the future.
For weeks, which were just one stretch of daylight, I did not know sleep, but I still knew the comforting space of World and the safety the floating bed wrapped around me.
For days, which were wholly lost and never found, alcohol seeped from my pores, while empty ***** fifths created new altitudes of the floor.
For months, which were truly months, I sat in the small World with depression’s darkness, and I found I could live with no real desire to see my toes touch the existent, dreadful ground.
MJ Jan 2018
she breaks
she breaks
the spines
Next page