I throw lightbulbs at cellophane walls and watch as they bounce onto the floor and shatter across my feet, sparks lighting my feet and then resting right there, beneath me: apart of me.

I'm not that kind of girl anymore,*
I said to him,
waiting for his voice to change me,
yet again.

I'm pretty sure I die with you every night. Miserable souls always seem to last the longest in this sent from hell world. Here comes the manslaughter, the impending doom of it all, the sideways games and glances that leaves my seat wet and my neck hungry for your hands, here comes the tragedies, mistaken suicidal attemptants at kisses that stream tripping in between sets and hollow stairs painted down my hips with the fire of you. Here comes the luster that doesn't lack. I think. Today would be a good day for everyone to disappear, including me, into you but you won't incline your hips into me 'cause last night I told you I once tried to **** a real good song so that I could own it's rights and lefts while spiraling into your lungs like a jail's black tongue. Here comes the poems and cults that Shakespeare shot down my inner thighs as you tattooed my lungs with the **** of your cigarettes. Here it all comes to ridicule me deeper into the middle of this crisis, here it all comes to take a toll on the planes of my mind as I shoot up high into sage tainted milli-universes. Here comes folded dollar bills cupped and lined against the tusks of my milky breath toned to the centerfold of your abdomen, here comes the part that hurts just a little bit more each time you come around. Here comes knowing you.

it's sad how
easily
people can break you.

a senseless **** is still a **** to give and to give of myself, so kindly, is the nicest thing I could ever do for anyone and sometimes I swear I feel the pulse of every evil thing a woman could possibly feel pulsing through the bulbs of my thighs and quickening the thrills of my braced heart as my mind darkens against the sun of you. the night your lips uttered my name, I walked back down every path I ever crossed to get to you and picked up every cigarette **** I ever tossed in hopes that you'd one day look at my will to pick up our past, no matter how ill we were, and still see the beauty in its uselessness. you'll always understand me as crazy baby just like you, and maybe that's why I'll always love you. it'll always be understood that my cigarettes will taste of Bourbon like my lips, liquid to your breath, like Vaseline on your fingertips. anyone with a certain blackness in their eyes holds my intrigue much like how anyone with a certain lightness to their feet trips up my heart, hopefully because they'll always leave me, most likely because they know I won't chase, definitely because they know I'll always want to.

"I like broken people, Dad."
I said into the hourglass as
time sped down past my
waist. He is wasting sand.

"Just make sure they don't
break you, Jaso."

We are wasting sand and
time has sped down and
slowed up.

You fill your voice with sand
and I, with air.

there is no point in living
if you only do what you know

My mood and this rain.

I watch

video clips of rollercoasters

so that I can feel my heart race. Sometimes

I can't remember what it feels like.



And I never want to forget again.



Not for one second.

I hate their eyes
with as much passion
as a lover who loves the
'windows to their soul.'

and his face
is much like
any other
faceless face
but his mind—
oh darling,
but his mind is
*enigmatic

Julia Roberts
lied to them.
Richard Gere
is not going to
climb onto a
rickety ladder,
risking his life,
facing his fears
just to kiss their
lips. He is only
one man. And
they are but a
few

I often look at people and wonder
where they are going to end up.

I often look in mirror and see me going
as far as it's glass will allow me to see.

I never knew whether to be flattered
by your care. Or suspicious.
I suppose now, as I stand back,
my weight pressured solely on my heel,
head turned up to the clouds, chin
puncturing out it's tears-
I know now-
that flattery lead you
everywhere your feet
wants to land.

you've got a butterfly melting
on the tip of your tongue and the
crisp of your grapefruit skin
pores through the pours of my
sponging fingers and I had a dream-
starstruck and set on a milky night
that you came to me between the bridges
of a canopied lens, lungs pink with passion,
lips parsed and ready, I set my eyes along
the rings of your chest and waited for it's
plate to aliven, deep breaths heaving up
and down as my cheeks glow hollow,
I touched the rim of his golden
wire framed glasses as he wiggled the
bridge of his nose, struggling to
keep them afloat as they draped and I
asked him, "How old are you, ***?"
as I dusted the blades of my shoulders,
"I lost count," he said,
eyes dimming against the background
of the setting sun, "I lost count 'cause you see,
from my point of view, it feels as though
I've been alive for an eternity."

Maybe I'm learning but not accepting that the skies
don't have all of the answers, much like the ground
won't always be there to support my limbs

I don't know why these parents let their kids roam and wander  about these streets
sodden with heat and cold air, legs drumming against tarred roads with figure
stick legs, quietly breaking, but we don't hear the pop, us watch-and-go tapers. I don't known why these parents let their
kids wander the night balancing on seeds
of beads, eyes red-rimmed and hungry,
I don't know why these parents let their kids roam and wander about these streets

it's six
and i'm still
swiggin'-
where've
I gone
wrong

Years later,
I let you see
the poems I
wrote about you
and you held them,
a tight, unbinded
book in quivering
hands and you
you didn't smile
and you didn't
thank me,
you just stood there
with your weak
brown eyes
and your strong fingers
and you took in my
attempts of
remembering you,
writing you like you were.

i trip on the hem of my dress, a kind of cool skim reduction that dribbles milk down my legs and casts a white veil over your eyes. sometimes i swear i think you might just try to catch me one of these days, i wouldn't hold you past it but I will for the life of me try to keep me out of your arms for as long as i  possibly can.

I love everything. I once told a lie so naturally that I began to thin of angst and anxiety. I wonder if you've ever had good times. Seems silly that we persist within the bad when everything could be so good.

I had a dream
of you and me
tumbling
in between
bed sheets-
the moon,
the stars,
shivering
above
our
shoulders.

i'd like to be a flower
               growing real tall off your wall-

                                     these nonsensical things,
                                          i keep thinking-
                                              dreaming-­
                                                 being-
                       I don't need to hear any-much-more
                                     about your happy life,
                                       just go on and be it

I'd like to grow-a not-yet-blossomed flower,
real tall off your wall and then falling
i keep thinking-
           these nonsensical things
falling real soft onto the chest of your bed.

I climb on a seafoam mattress, baby breath puke green and of the lyrics he scripts, they swim across your sea-like covers. He loves my lost mind as though the puzzle of me hummed to him as my thighs rode across his blanketed scene. I hated him and his laundry list of post-consumerism articles that he'd spout off one after the other. He checks me off like his last bought pair of socks and hung me from around his neck and so I bled like a wasted pen blemishes, down to the front seat of his pants. The stress of him rests in the nook of my shoulder blades and vibrates through to my chest. Blue dream and acidically-tinged hazes ripple against my reptilian skin and sheds me time and time again. I cannot grow old with you or young with you. We are alone an together, unmoving and polarizing. A few cool blue specks of light that never change but appear to mean to. We are in lust and stagnantly so, we will never grow. I climb on a sea of green and wade into the late night streamings, the abyss of you.

when i was young
i froze the world between my fingers
and as it fell, I married it's teardrops
between the balms of my feet.

i say yes
because
i don't
have
anything
to
lose.

i say no
because
i don't
want to
lose
everything.