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M Mar 2014
I could drown myself in cups of coffee.
in nicotine,
old books,
and whiskey.
But that won’t make me crave you any less
posted originally on my blog (rest-in-psychedelia.tumblr.com)
M Mar 2014
Today my English teacher asked us to define love.
I tried to write a story; a great work of fiction indeed.
But in the end the only thing I could describe was the early morning sunrise,
and the colour of your eyes.
posted originally on my blog (rest-in-psychedelia.tumblr.com)
M Mar 2014
I caught you star gazing last night
You were staring at the ceiling with your eyes full of sprinkles as your body melted into the floor.
I watched your tears fall into to puddles of open clusters,
And the rhythm of your heart beat to the heat of the sun.
I watched your fingers turn to galaxy’s and your hair mold into the earth to become roots thirsty for knowledge from a well of an insomniacs early morning dreams
But these open clusters become disrupted over time,
by the gravitational influence of molecular clouds.
I can feel them pulling at you.
And you let them drown you into the sea.
            It is hypothesized that people like you are made of dust,
Drifters and wanderers full of acid and dope but baby,
I see much more.
Looking through spectacles composed of the ocean floor I see fish swimming through your veins and coal reefs in your ears blocking the airflow from coming in.
I see doctors and lawyers prescribing you pills to keep the love you thought was real from failing and I see great white sharks to swallow your pain with Prozac and Cipralex.
            You know the effects of smoking,
and the pollution to the forest in your lungs but you breathe in the chemicals because were programmed for rat poison to make us feel alive.
You crave sunsets.
But through prescriptions and sleeping pills I see the 95% of the ocean that has not yet been explored and I see crystals forming in the pit of your eyes and I want to tell you that not all tears are worthless and not all paintings are pointless and I see the beauty in dandelions that some people call weeds.
I see the evil in rose petals and the delicacy in the thorns
and I see the world through  eyes that refused to be hazed by politics and religion and the opinions of store clerks when you ask for a lottery ticket with a 20 dollar bill in hand because you hold on to the hope that something will happen and God will reward you for all you’ve done good with a bundle of money and stained glass windows complete with marble floors.
            You hide away your **** rugs collected from japan and feel the wooden floor, scraping each fingernail and crying dark amethyst as your falling to your knees to get closer to hell in order to pray for heaven.
            I turn so I can leave you to gazing,
Then I hear you draw a breath,
You turn to look at me with starfish covering your cheeks and your knuckles branded with scratches from pounding on great metal doors until they set you free.
I see a universe in you.
I see the roots in your hair,
and the sprinkles in your eyes.
I see the coal reefs in your ears,
and the forest in your lungs.
I see the 95% of the ocean that has yet to be explored.
Slam poetry piece, preformed from 2011-2013
M Mar 2014
Things I will never stop loving;*

1. The sound of piano
2. The taste of chocolate
3. The smell of bliss
4. The sight of blue
5. The touch of her skin
M Mar 2014
If I Could look back I’d find that her lips tasted like champagne lost in time
She was a capsule, of green drugs and good wine.
Made my blood curdle at the thought of losing her.
When our finger intertwined it was as if lacing silk  ribbon through leather shoes
the softness binding  together the rough
And baby I know it’s hard.
I know it’s hard to forget the wishes you wasted on innocent stars
trust me,
I didn’t know beauty until I felt it with my tongue
the taste of serenity,
the voice of the young.
I count the clocks collected on my walls, not for the time but to measure the end of it all
it is beautiful
it is everything I found in you.
all the stars were worth something and the wishes came true at the sight of you whispering my name.
the way her lips curved
the way they sang when she only utter simple words how collarbones keep me close
with butterfly kisses and I drink my own madness at the thought of her.
she etches words into my skin
she is a mary go round,
a whirlwind!
she is everything I ever hope to find but I am a phlisiopher in the dark,
not yet figured out how to turn on a light but I know patience
and how to make things disappear from sight
I have learned to see with the eyes god could never give me
I have learned to worship my blood
the ceiling inside this hell of a head
I bruise my brain trying to think of ways I cannot.
But what I do know,
is I know how to impress her with my hips.
I know how to love her fingertips
I know the words she will not say and the way she likes her morning coffee.
3 sugar 2 cream
and all that was obscene is now falling into reality I am not Alice,
and this is not a dream
wake up
go back to sleep
I am the object of this scheme
I will not fall in love again.
But darling, when I see trees they whisper your name
their roots show no shame in the way they grow
and neither do i.
everytime my phone rings I know when its you by the way it echoes in my mind
and when my voice shakes upon answering I swear I dont hold my breath for a moment longer then I should
but maybe I do.
I hang myself with the cord of the phone just knowing this is a risk I’m not ready to take
maybe I am.
Maybe when this plane someday finds it way to paradise you’ll be there.
waiting for me in the snow by the beach, knowing that nonsense is something you can't teach
but you taught it to me.
and when your eyes lock on my mine and they remind me of the night sky I know that this is pointless
but baby I do believe that this may not be how i'm picturing and I’m willing
to let you paint brushstrokes on my teeth I’ll return them with kisses on your beautiful cheeks
and Ill fly.
Because If I could look back, her champagne lips would leave me drunk with hope, and I would surrender
and I would stay.
A slam peice
M Mar 2014
There are days I find myself riding on comets
I climb ladders higher than your god
I don't need a stack of bibles to understand who you are
I want to peel back your bones,
find comfort in the marrow and see what’s within.
there are tears that run down hollow cheekbones
and you asked me one day,
if we could get drunk and let our stories be told
but I want o re-write the life i'm living and find happiness
in leaves because no matter what,
great mother nature lets them fall in all the colours of secrets
she holds them close.
We sit.
banging on imaginary drums
it is not  a rule of thumb,
but a heartache.
A whisper.
A home.
a place that was destroyed in the years of your own heart being broken
like bombs drapped over the sky I see you crying behind sheltered eyes
but when your bones break you give them soil, and pray for a miracle.
the seeds of enlightenment
the sounds of sorrow.
I'll play it like an instrument,
drunken on the piano.
each key with leave track marks down my spine,
and there are brothers and sisters waiting until they can let of go of time
but the man in the sky never intended for them to be late.
To laugh at the expense of obtuse angles and
the irony of golden hair left in tangles
For the day I discovered I could break my skin with ice
I found myself bathing in memories
and my legs sliced into a sketchbook.
But in those scars I planted tulips and prayed for the rain
so they would grow and kiss my chapped brain with indigo
I want to write of love like I invented it,
I want to sing like I can claim it
and it takes time
but sometimes I forget that the atoms vibrating within me were once in the galaxy.
I am made up of the earth that I find so **** beautiful.
I am the vibrations that harmonicas send
I am the sweat on bare skin after a night you never wished would end
I am the wooden planks that many have walked with their hands
tied behind their back so they won't remember.
My hands tell a story no one else could see whenever I type on my keys
I listen for a pattern that reminds me of sea shells and water skis because
with only the chorus of a mundane song on my breath
ill stand on a mountain top,
and finally remember how to breathe
written as a slam piece
M Mar 2014
Once there was a girl,
and she found that she wasn’t so beautiful,
but not because of her thighs,
or her lips,
or eyes.
It was because she had something that hurt her,
that lived in her ribs.
She tried to drown it in whiskey, and choke it with smoke.
But it never seemed to die,
just hide.
It waited until the right moment, when it knew she could take no more.
And in those moments she found that she liked kissing girls, and one broke her heart.
Another one broke her down.
And another one watched her drown.
The doctors told her that she had come a long way, and that the diagnosis were starting to belittle.
"You’re making amazing progress" they told her.
She believed she was.
She held her own hands through hard times,
she found spirituality,
she learned how to breathe.
But lately she found her self leaving her mind,
walking with nothing but drops of acid on her tangled tongue, marijuana in her lungs and whiskey on her breath.
She found her self in a lullaby,
and she realized that lately,
she’s been really.
really,
tired.
posted originally on my blog (rest-in-psychedelia.tumblr.com)
M Mar 2014
When I was young I found myself searching for salvation in all the wrong places,
Spreading my heart and all the pieces that I had never forgiven.
I learned quickly that I don’t write enough,
I dream so much
I reach to little.
I look for God in everything, and when I write I find myself mentioning his name all the time.
Something I have found myself to not even believe in I scribble into notes of delirium
and maybe its because he never showed up when I was promised
I wrapped my veins in rosary’s and begged him please,
“don’t let me be this way”
Oh but I found him,
I found him on her lips that tasted like church
and I found him coiled under the moans of hallelujah
My favorite word.
I loved it enough to ink it into my skin.
To replace the carvings I had mastered with something much prettier.
I have bruises on my palms from all the times I felt there was no other option than to fall in the face of evil and don’t you dare apologize for words you never knew you could say and don't you  let your memories slip away they are a crystal ball that is fading.
Much like my hair I find it in broken strands in the shower and I wish I never ******* apologized for letting you **** me because my breath is now a ball of light and I project it to you.
please sir, ma’am, and everything in between don't you ever say you swung to high on that swingset because we all know all you wanted to do was touch heaven.
Will I find a safe haven in the marrow of your bones
even the tips of your toes didn’t seem as if they could make it but I see differently.
Let me hold you.
Let me find that ****** curse of hallelujah in your curves
dont you dare say you dont deserve her
don't tell yourself he isnt worth loving.
There is no message in that bottle and if you try to find it you will be lost at sea,
you are a ******* entirety why would you waste the solar system on nothingness it holds itself together without any obligation at all
and you lay around waiting for something that will never come reying on your next paycheck well what the hell are you going to do now?
Touch the Olympus with your toes.
Wash the bruises from your palms,
become lost in your own serenity
write yourself like the best novel you will read and for the love of god if he never answered your prayers find them in shadows or in sand because I swear to you, my love, someone will hold your hand other the cold stone steps you are about to face and don't you dare fall.
But for me, take one step.
Go on,
I dare you.
Written as a slam piece

— The End —