I'm a ******* God
I'm trying to bring dead boys back to life
I'm trying to make them forget their plans
I'm trying to give them something to believe
I'm trying to change all of their ways
I'm a ******* mess

i try to open up
and bees and moths and venom
spurt from my chest
my rib cage so hollow
you knock it down
tear the tissue from my outline
i am just a shell
the skeleton my biological walls
built to protect me
broken to tease me
i feel like you've been
hammering on my heart
for years now
so much i can't say
with punctured lungs

no matter how much sugar
or honey you pour
poison is poison
what's dead is gone
and cannot be revived
the boy with a bite
will always leave a nasty mark
on the hands you gift him
and no one will sweeten
the way your corpse rots
it's unfortunate to think so
but whatever you've mixed
at the end of the day
is what trails down your throat
foolish to believe
what's killing you
isn't the poison
but the sweetness you once poured
over and over again
into a glass always half full
optimism filled prison cell
you are blind to think
your poison may not be the reason
you are coughing up your dignity
and dying of his laughter

I didn't want to be your phase
I wanted to make you laugh
but you didn't want the world
you wanted comfort
and I get that
I see that now
it was my mistake to believe
you needed more than this
at a party
with someone else
laughing
I just can't believe I had to realize
next to all my friends
laughing

my skin is hellbent on flames
tears are grease in my lashes
nothing about big city concrete
is lavish
Rock back and forth on cement
to forget I rock back and forth
on your bed
and what it never,
never meant
who dare tell me I'm sinful
instead, pray I stop this addiction
to pins and needles, menthol
stop telling me I'm broken
when I never worked
to begin with
chains chokin'
Rockefeller pout infectious
I will own this ******* world
it will be the death of us
I'm only a rough draft
in the middle of culminations
but this big city concrete
it is death, determination
isn't this all
what I'm running to
chasing

and you want something so bad
until you become a martyr for it
and the new year rings itself in
with yourself soon behind
and the weather becomes different
just like that boy you knew
you thought you knew
and your heart drops
and your stomach sinks
and you look in the mirror
after all these years
and you forgot what you looked like
a color kind of emerald jaded now
and it's like talking to a stranger
all over again
and you wish that you spared yourself the visit
and you wish you looked happier
and you wish you looked kinder
and you wish you looked cleaner
and you wish you looked like all the years
rolled by gracefully
but instead you look darker
and your heart beats slower
and you have to keep quieter
because you're talking to a mirror
even though it wont hear you
and you wish you could strangle that stranger
and make it all over
and in the end you just wish
you broke the ******* mirror

I was too soft spoken before
to point out your rotting flesh
and lying mouth
but now
let a man ever defy me,
dare touch me,
who cannot love me
let him die for me
from me
by me
because it's been all about me
I've just been too shy
to believe in the land I walk on
crowned holy by my ***** feet
you should call yourself lucky
that I ever allowed my porcelain fingertips
entry to your ragged existing
that I ****** you
that I loved you
you never did notice
I was breaking apart
each moment you chose to
use my face as your mirror
your personal centerfold

I am writing angry poetry to a boy who doesn't read
I am praying no good prayers to
a God who doesn't listen
And I am making a peace
with the chaos that lives inside me

the day I realize
tears are not all bad
and people
are not all good
is the night I won't
come crawling
like some
sad animal
trapped once again
in a cage with only
you and me

if you found what I wrote
would you scream?
I am thinking of my father
now I am thinking of my father
thinking of you
maybe he'd scream about both
I don't want him to know
I'd rather he just think
I'm nice
and detached

colosseums crumbling
stained glass shattered
I knew these relics would not stay
as everything is Eden
everything is decay
marble will be dust
velvet curtains torn
in the tapestry we put our trust
Rome will mutter, "what more?"
sink the silver
we will follow
as grief is to grief
as palaces to gallows

I made my way through the streets
words echoing,
"you like it rough"
as I crawled to the smallness
and back into the box
full of desperate optimism
deepest condolences
out of date
addresses
cab fairs to
quick messes
tongue tied
his rejection
words deafened
madness
learned lessons
back way
intersections
"no" I said
interrupting,
"mind numbing"

your poems aren't art
God may as well be dead
your words don't fill me
and flowers have never sprung
from my mouth or yours
it's a ******* joke
and a sick lie
a poem never saved a life
because God laughed
and didn't make pain helpful
he made me sit down at the counter
at 2 am
to hit my fist again
and again
over a **** page
and even he knows
this poem isn't art

I am a fair skinned insecurity
who was bent by a boy
and broken by another
and now you,
lay flowers at my feet
asking me, how to make it better?
but I don't really think
after all those endless aches
and drunken lustings
for him and for him
it really does
get better

falling through cracks
living alone
knowing I needn't take you back
the hurt is the same
withstanding quiet disapproval
forgetting you want to get away
for a moment you are mine
the moment is fading
you've never said to me the right line
I've wanted to love you for so long
I'll do anything, anything
to make you want me this long

the hardest part
about trying to grow up
is that my mom
she never leaves
the garage door open
anymore
and doesn't call me
if she wants to know
when I'll be home
I guess maybe
she may not want to know
if I'm coming home
anymore

I fell asleep in the Devil's arms
I lied awake, laid in waste
that there Devil
make sure he wakes up
demon girl should be up
until noon
sorry, sorry
don't put the needle back in
I'll be fine
illness be fine

I envy your poise
your solidarity
an untampered grace
of which I could not know
I imagine one day
I too
can keep the words from spilling
trickling from my throat
down the corners of an upturned mouth
I dream that I may keep focus
a clear and narrow vision
until then
I muddle through a landfill
of memory I keep
for old time sake, for god knows why
I tend to make sharp breaks
in word and action
for no apparent reason
except that logic is not my forte
I've given in
to irrational
insanity gave me a voice
and I will not soon
make myself a mute
all for a chance
at normalcy

had your phone turned off
I know you couldn't pay it
I turned mine off too
maybe now we can
finally
talk