people like to talk
about ways they
want to meet their
demise.

there's this recurring theme
of herocism, bravery
dying in battle, sacrifice for one
another.

some even joke about it
make it sound like something
comical, funny, like some kind of
movie.

the media plays up death
to be something to be cherished,
something to give your life a final
meaning.

dying for love, for loss,
for country, for state,
for freedom, for slavery, for
glory.

they romanticize the word
until it begins to sound like
some sick kind of gift instead of a
curse.

still, they all recognize
that they would rather breathe
than find themselves 6 feet
under.

but what happens when
you realize that, maybe,
death isn't so
beautiful?

does death lose all its honor,
its glory, its divine salvation
when it's delivered by your own
hand?

there will always be a part of me
that sighs when I'm happy
and says I-told-you-so when I'm not
because I had the chance
and now it's gone
now I'm stuck
because 3 years ago
I dropped it in my nightstand drawer
and locked it away
with all my conviction
and all my courage
and promised myself never to look back
I open the drawer sometimes
hoping that maybe it came back
but there's a hole in the back of the dresser
and I fear that the three of them
snuck off in the night
looking for a new victim
with a bigger supply
of conviction and courage
and a steadier hand

the process of finding a lifelong love
is pointless
human psyche is still guided
by primitive instinct
to find a lover
to procreate
and when the individual
finds something better
she leaves

the gold reflected in your hair
from the sun dancing off the ocean
will never amount to all he's searching for
when you wake up alone in the morning

you grew up on hip hop
and he was sort of punk rock
and I bet that's what he told you
when he walked out the door

let him go, love
know he'll never come back
I believe you'll love him a million years
just don't expect the same

so put on your heels
and play your games
and find yourself a heaven
somewhere new

anchor me to the skies
so I don't drown
in the depths
of this ocean
this hell
the salt burns my wounds
the cold water chills my spine
and I can't take it anymore
I'll be your rock
if you'll be my sun and stars
and keep me safe
from the churning seas below

dragging
heaving
crawling
finally i learn to walk
and then
i fall
again.

the gentle twin
of the aggressive,
passionate
5th
beethoven's 6th dances
sings
of repetition in nature
and in ourselves
how, in a way
we are all the same
leaf, stem, branch
eyes, nose, mouth
it's the law of uniformitarianism
what happened before
in geological history
can, and will,
happen again
love me today
love me tomorrow
hit me today
hit me tomorrow
disappoint me today
disappoint me tomorrow
uniformitarianism
or beethoven's 6th
it's what keeps us
safe in our beds
and wide awake
scared
at 4 in the morning

and i could lay with my face in your curls
and my arm around your waist
every night
for the rest of time
but for now
just hold my hands a little tighter
snuggle in a little closer
and give me one more day
to wake up to those beautiful blue eyes

you tell me
most people call you only
by your first name
it's just mary, you said
it's just mary

i'm not strong enough for another loss
i can't lose someone else i adore
but i adore you more
than anyone before
and i can't afford to subject myself
to that breed of hell again
but i'll carry you across the coals
and leave my sandals behind

i'm still in repair, my love
i know you know
and i know you care
but i'll peel off the bandages
and i'll show you the scars
and i'll give trust another chance
for you
for you

but no matter what happens
and no matter what we decide
i promise
i swear
i will still call you
by both names

no matter what I do with it
i still have the blisters on my index fingers
and the rope burn on my thumbs
to remind me of my mistakes

and I'll thank them for it every ******* day.

when i was little i
wrote poetry about
                                                  bugs.
i watched them
dance through the evening
                                                  sky
and­ at the time i
thought that they were
                                                  free.
free­, like i would grow up to be.

but i grew up and they
looked different to me
                                                  then.
the fireflies no longer would
dance for me, it was more
                                                  frantic.
l­ike they were trapped,
schitzophrenic, in cages of their own
                                                  making.
and­ i felt pity for them.

but now i see
that we all have
                                                  cages
and while everyone
around me is finding their
                                                  escape
i feel lost
between these narrow
                                                  bars.
i'­ve been here a long time

and i think i've
lost my
                                                  key.

music is many things
it is invisible
untangible
nonexistent
but so powerful
coursing through your veins with every
beat
with every
measure
emotions, spilling through the air
butterflies, soaring through your soul
it's aggressive and loving
it's violent and gentle
it's painful and soothing
it's hideous and beautiful
it's me
it's you
it's all of us
music is
we are
seperate
unique
alone
but one.

it's three months later
and the tune of our love
still echoes through the labyrinth
of my prozac-poisoned cerebrum

it's the sound of rainy evenings
in whitewashed suburban neighborhoods
overwhelming me
as it ricochets off the cold stone

it's the ghost of your hand
holding mine so tight
and it feels like home
as I stand here alone

even as the symphony changes key
to red hair and bright blue eyes
the cadence of you
still rings in my mind

my lungs burn
as I inhale your stench
a cigarette
the secondhand smoke
of a broken lover
breathing your cancer on me
watching my bones decay
and calling it
beautiful

hello, anxiety
welcome to my humble abode
tell me you're doing well
you seem to be thriving
in this poor excuse for a body
I wish I could say the same
my love
my constant companion
my greatest weakness
I see you've made yourself at home
please, enjoy your stay
I'd offer you coffee
maybe tea, or just water
but it appears I have forgotten how to ask.

there's an empty space in my bed
it's always been there
but i'm just feeling it now
i shouldn't be able to stretch out so far
kick my legs over the side
wrap my arms around the headboard
the wood is cool against my skin
while you kept me comfortably warm
i have two pillows too many
and i'd rather have a shoulder
i'd rather feel your hair tickle the back of my neck
than be searching the pillow for the cold side

it's 11:45 pm
and you're sitting on your bed
your newly cut hair pulled back
and your first experience with fringe
occasionally dancing over your eyelids
the sounds of a tv and your mother teaching herself the clarinet
make it hard to concentrate
on the thoughts in your head
but your inner organs tell you all you need to know
your stomach flutters with a thousand monarchs
your heart soars
and your knees are weak
and you're not sure how you're going to recover
but that's okay
because maybe you don't want to

if you talk a little louder
and hold on a little tighter
and focus on the smell
of the ****** soap from the
girls' bathroom at school
that lingers on my hands
even after showers
maybe you won't notice
that the girl in your hands
has been a corpse
for quite some time.

You were my summer love

Kisses in the bus loop
And sweaty palms in July

You were hope,
you were safe,
you were home

You were burdened by my transgressions

You were love,
you were love,
you were love

And when you slipped through the cracks
Of my cruel, violent hands
You were lost

your life hangs in a balance
a rotting see-saw
of deprivation
you listen to the chorus
of growling, pleading
from your internal organs
begging for sustenance
and you smile
are you proud of the pain you inflict on your body
or just yourself?
I'll watch you decompose
and tell you your decaying flesh is beautiful
because I know you're not looking for bones
or extra fabric on your jeans
but while your stomach cries
for yesterday's missing lunch
your mind weeps
for something to be proud of
and if the only thing you can do right
is your hipbones
then so be it

mis demonios parecen cicatrices
y el sabor como el suicidio

mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio
and they watch
they wait
from the dark corners
the creases
of my mind
and they laugh
as I drown
in this stale air
they step on my chest
crushing my brittle ribcage
caving in my empty lungs
they laugh
as I drown
in this salty ocean
one small drop at a time
as my skin tightens
my cheeks stained grey
my eyes bloodshot
blinded
they laugh
as I drown
in giving up
giving in
to the biggest demon of them all
the beautiful sister of depression
anxiety*

mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio
and they run back into the shadows
chased by a box of kleenex
and her scratchy sweater
leaving my face raw
but finally
dry

take me apart
peel away my flesh
strip me down to the bone
and devour me
let our bodies become one
on these worn out sheets

take me apart
put all the broken pieces
in a ceramic bowl
and dump it in the trash
replace it with lust
and let's call it love

take me apart
let me feel you
give me touch
kiss me, grab me
give me a taste of you

let all our destruction
pour out of our systems
and fuse in the stale air
so that then you can put me
back
together
again

this time's different
'cause now I'm worried about me, too.

I believe I've become a bit disenchanted with my life.

you are a fetal pig
dissected
cut open
for science
displayed before me
on a shiny slab of steel
dripping with chemicals
meant to keep you clean
for the next person
to pick you apart
and take notes on what they see
dress me up in a white jacket
scrub my skin
make me sterile
give me your protective glasses
don't forget to distort the lenses
I couldn't see straight, anyway
but don't hand me that knife
'cause the blood I see on my hands
won't be yours
I promise

I promised myself
That if you were to drown
That I'd go down with you
That I would spare my dying breath
For one last second with you

But now
If he were to drown
I would fight to my last breath
To share it with him
To breathe together
To heal together
To live together
To love together

how much longer until my
corpse
is too broken
for all the kings' horses and
all the kings' men
to put my body
back together
again?

i played my recital piece
for a man and his daughter
and the man told me
"there's hope in that piece"
and it got me thinking
that maybe
just maybe
if i can find the hope in my music
i can find
hope
         in
             me

your father died a long time ago
before your mother married him
before you were born
and i watched when your mother
pried his cold, dead hands
off of her arm
hoping it would let you and her be
free.

the stench of alcohol still clings to your clothes
and you scrub it out of your sheets
with tide and clorox
with soaps and dryers
and the love of your mother
as you struggle once again
to let you and her be
free.

you do what you can to protect your mother
from the dangers of our world
because she's been through enough
but sometimes you forget
that you need protection, too
and you find yourself scared, trapped
wishing you and her could be
free.

but people aren't just born broken
it's what people do, what people think
what people drink
that breaks the person, who breaks you
and sometimes it's so easy to hate the man
broken by the desire for his brand of whiskey
when it's been years since you've tasted your own brand of
freedom.

i still write you letters
purple ink stains my fingers
and 3 pens later i haven't got it all said

i talked to a girl you know
she says you got tired of me
before i knew your middle name

it makes me sad to think you'll never know how much i love you
even though we both lied that day
and you lied every one after

and it makes me sad to think that you'll never know how bad i feel
because i promised you i was mean
but i can't bring myself to say i told you so

you were right,
we weren't
and you deserved better

but i couldn't let you go
cause all i wanted was a friend

it's okay
now i know i didn't deserve one.

I'd rather be the shattered mess of glass
strewn across the floor
of every hallway in your house
than be the frame
that once held this mirror together

because now that I'm free from the grasp
of this "pride" you so cherished
you can't leave the lonely cave
in your black hole of a heart
without the remnants of me
splitting your flesh
     to
          the
               bone.

dear goldfish -
if I'd been you
I'd have jumped, too.

I find it so interesting
to think about hands.

to think that the same hands that guide, nurture
a loved one
could be used to beat, break,
abuse
another weak, fragile
human.

to think that the same hands that cooked pancakes
for his mother on her birthday
could be used to build a bomb to
******
the recipient of someone else's
breakfast.

to think that the same hands the hold yours so tight,
a lifeline to this drowning me
are used just hours later to tear, cut, burn,
destroy
the skin and bones you say you
adore.

to think that the same hands we use
for love and compassion
are so easily misused for
evil
and that no matter what our hands have touched, they will always look the
same.

you told me that this
is who you are
hope
you chose the word to define you
for now and eternity
and to be honest
I think it's fitting.

you told me that,
by telling me your word
you were showing me your
trust
in me, and that it would be a secret safe
between us.

what I didn't tell you, though, was that
all hope comes with a certain degree of
naivety
and I'm just sorry
you gave your hope away
to me.

i remembered the rose
in the vase on my desk
dried up but, somehow, intact
and when i picked it up
to toss it outside
a few petals fell away
drifted to the floor
and all i could do was sigh
and say
i know.

i accused you
of clinging on to the remains
of a girl since passed
but now i find my fingers wrapped tight around your cold hands
and your eyes
once a million shades of green
are now reminiscent of grey
and they haven't met mine in months

my hope no longer breathes
no longer lives
no longer loves
no longer tells me it's mine under bridges downtown
my hope has been reduced to a slip of paper
a magazine cutout
on a collage on my bedroom wall

I compare myself to silverware
because both myself
and your shining collection of forks and knives
let people use us over
and over again,
never asking for anything in return.
Though sometimes I wonder
if the tablespoon ever tires
of the same old routine
because I think that,
possibly,
I do.

lying here beneath the stars
I've never felt so alone
happy independence day, love.

I hate the way I refer to him and "you" and you as "him"
I hate the way the passage of a year means nothing to my aching heart and
I hate the way the thought of her lips that are too thin and her eyes that are too dark and her hair that is too long is what he's chosen for three hundred and sixty seven days because I hate the way she told you you didn't love me the day you called me to tell me they told you what love was and I hate the way that I will always fall back into you and the jail cell that traps me between your ribs

but I love the taste of the glue from this envelope that lingers on my lips I love the way you wrap your arms around my waist I love the way you look at me as you **** me until I can't breathe
I love the way the blue of the skies I see when I wake up in the morning and the seas that lull me to sleep at night pales in comparison to the blue of your eyes and I love the way I miss you when I stop at stop lights and you aren't there to unclench my hands from the wheel
and I love the way we look at these stars together from this distance but ******* christ I hate the way the specks of light in this god forsaken sky are so far away - just like you from me tonight
I just hope they find a way to tell you that I love you with their whispering voices in the dawn cause baby now it's just you and me

any hope I ever had left long ago
lost in the wind
a kite with a broken string
the scissors held in the trembling hands
of my mother
and now she wonders
where the child she once loved
has gone
and I don't have the heart
to tell her
that she burned the kite with a
gas station zippo lighter
and the ashes were poured
into a glass
of merlot.

he fell for a girl
mourning the heartbreak of a boy
who fell for a friend
to the tune
of a broken lovesong

a white ceramic swimming pool
filled to the brim
with hot water
and rainbow bubbles
growing, swelling
popping
forming anew
the stench of your organic dish soap
overwhelms me
chemical and lemon has become a part of my DNA
use me
abuse me
then tell me I'm *****
useless
and scrub me clean
let me restart
none the wiser and twice the cleaner
let your fake nails and cheap sponge
leave streaks and scratches on my surface
and lock me away
in a wooden box
with the others
where we wait
for the next bowl
of chicken-and-zoloft soup
to be served

i should make a tally of every time i've lied today
oh wait
i already did
with a steel pen and red ink
on my hips.

your body was painted in
     red
     white
     blue
bracelets and longsleeves to cover
     stars
     scars
     stripes
like an american flag

because while some wave their flags
     proud
     strong
     brave
you found yourself fluttering
     torn
     half
     mast
except no one important has died

     just
          you

too sweet
not like candy
more like raw sugar cane
dainty and honest
to the innocence of tastebuds
but grows stale and sticky
to the back of my throat
and all i can think of
to wash you away
are a couple swigs of listerine
and her mom's stash of *****

my frame sways in the wind
the breeze lifts the shingles on my roof
years of precipitation slowly wear away at the brick
I'm tired of the plywood covering my windows
sick of the empty chairs
I can't breathe under the 6-inch layer
of dust and neglect
these patchwork remains of home
don't satisfy me any longer
they say you can't help others
if don't help yourself
but these four walls mean nothing to me
so let me do what I can, while I can
and when my foundation finally crumbles
I'll let go of what I have
sell my sewing machines
give you my collection of glue guns
so maybe you can hold your own when I'm gone
peel away the duct tape
that's kept me in one piece for so long
and throw it to the wind
I'm falling apart at what's left of my seams
and I'm gonna let it happen.

oh, love
I'll keep my doors closed
but never locked.

the love of a best friend
is one that cannot be
smothered
but when i watch you and her
i don't see best friends
i see one girl desperate to escape
a sick, twisted, dying relationship
and i see you
starving, crying out in the darkness
wanting to be the girl she longs for
while she's too busy chasing boys
to notice your sacrifices
you look in the mirror and you see wrong
you see lost
you see empty
where she sees nothing
when she asks why there's no one
to hold her close in the night
you look at me and i can see it in your eyes
i'm here, love. i'm here.
but just because i see it
and just because she sees it
doesn't mean she wants it
doesn't mean she needs it
so please, for me, for her, for them
wake up in the morning
eat the food in front of you
smile at your reflection
just because she doesn't appreciate you
doesn't mean no one else does

when i look at you and her
i don't see best friends
i see a love that's been
smothered
by codependence and
a lack of oxygen

i see loved
and i see
lost.