i remember every bug i ****
i feel like a murderer
the god of their tiny lives
that decided at random
it was their time die

i remember every person i kiss
i remember what it tasted like
what sounds they made
if they opened their mouth
or ****** on my lips
i remember the look in their eyes
right before
i remember their heavy breathing
their smiles or their tears

i remember every day i wasted
when i ran away by myself
and kept thinkingthinking far too much
about love and death and science and God
until i was crazy
and sang songs to myself for hours
out of tune and in between
drags of my cigarette

i remember everything you say
i remember the songs you like
and the food you hate
i remember the weird dreams you’ve had
and the people who have hurt you
i remember the way you sleep
and how your eyes look when
you need to cry
but try to stay strong

i remember how i realized i love you
in a crowded room of strangers
how i stayed silent
and tried to convince my mind to do the same

a soul and silence
are the same thing
says the girl
who smokes in her sleep
she writes endless words
but can’t quite make poetry
//
the musician lived on a busy sidewalk
playing the harp with his teeth
his gums bled but he didn’t mind
anyhow
he had no money to eat
//
the painter smokes and drinks
not water but beer
slaps on colors and
complains to me
he hasn’t **** solid in years…
(what a joke)
//
i know a dancer who
has no grace
her toenails fall one and two
blood smears the floor like a portrait
in her empty space
//
                                 but you are every kind of artist
                                 no need to try
                                 you could twist galaxies
                                 in a pathetic knot
                                 with just a sigh
                                 //
                                                                                 your fear,
                                                                                 the songs you hear,
                                                                                 the way your lips hum
                                                                                 while you dream,
                                                                                 and when you cry,
                                                                                 how you scream,
                                                                                 the glow of golden
                                                                                 at your feet
                                                                                 as they crack
                                                                                 the sidewalk
                                                                                 and street..
                                                                                 delicate rain
                                                                                 is what you are,
                                                                                 a cup of coffee,
                                                                                 a lit cigar,
                                                                                 the swooping stomach
                                                                                 of life discovered,
                                                                                 the breath in lungs
                                                                                 of love uncovered.
                                                                                 //
the only good artist
you won’t ever leave

i tasted you in a dream once,
and from the moment I woke up
until this day still,
everything has lost it’s flavor.

taking in a big breath,
puffing up my chest,
growing, swelling,
looming,
deep fire burns
in the pit of my soul,
the flame flares with fresh oxygen,
screaming out the heat,
I stare at the world,
defiant, cocky,
on fire.

it turns autumn and
leaves fall and spin-
nature’s dancers
graceful and neurotic
who seem to make love
to earth
as the inner manifestation
of my every thought
and yearning
naturally,
how could i keep
you off of my mind
my soul did not teach my body
how to **** relentlessly
like the summer heat
All i want to do
is make love to you
swiftly and gently

just as the leaves fall to the ground
i will fall to you
you will fall to me

the way you wanted me
is too much to bear
now
my shaking hands
and solemn acceptance
are gone
i just want you
the look in your eyes
the guttural moans
the way you said
“make love to me”
is always haunting
in my time of need
and
i go back to when
my lips were hot
on your bare skin
cry out
and continue
to wish forever

the half- moons in your fingernails
fell that night, the soul
within your nail beds
filtering out with the grace of god
and you shuddered as they went,
wishing you'd had
some kind
of warning.

that grace,
it surrounded you
like silk, there was a candle
in your chest that flickered softly
just waiting for someone to notice
its quiet and tender smoke

and when desire filled you up
some nights, you held a violet close
to your heart and dared it to catch fire,
watched it turn to dust in your hands

this ashen life,
you couldn't find
what you searched for
in the sand -- you bit your lip
and cradled your own brokenness
in your palms, the heat from those
blue eyes tried to keep it warm
and my god i wish they had

because that morning,
when you kissed me?
i could feel the ashes
sparking on your tongue