the flurry of
diaphanous wings
dance to the beat
nature sings

lyrics of
the heat of july
perching on branches
we reply

here comes the honeyed
time of year
sun ripples like daisy
silk in my ear

gathered with love
first come the berries,
as summer rolls on
next are the cherries

the chorus is loudest
when peaches are red
dipping and diving
because we'll be dead

enjoy the goldenrod
while it lasts
these shimmering days
always go fast

by frost the air
will be silent, you'll see
piles of corpses
of you and me

i should have bit
the hand that feeds
before it became
the hand that beats

rotten lies rise
between my teeth
my silver tongue
and the stench of meat

now i could devour
the whole **** world
just to protect
that scared little girl

but i still can't
stand up to you
what the hell
did you do?

red blossoms
on my wrists
rose scented
rosary beads
cannot protect me
halo light
only exposes
my sins
for god
to feast on
peeling my
festering heart
like a mandarin orange,
sinking his teeth
deep deep deep
into the black core
once there was
something pure there,
once i was clean
but i have been
ruined
i'm never
getting it back
no matter how
many crosses
hang above
my bed
no matter how much
holy water
rests dried
on my head

like a rabbit
i'm light on my feet
must be the lucky
clover i eat
i was born in
a wolf's mouth
i felt his fangs
but i didn't cry out
i know to be quiet,
i know how to hide
they can't get me
when i'm inside
i know how to listen
i know how to wait
i can hear when their voices
are tainted by hate
but most of all
i know how to run
my big white ears
catching the sun

i am
the ghost of a crow
putting myself back together
with trinkets i find
my feathers were stolen
so i use plastic ones in every colour
i picked from a child's art project
thrown out onto the street
and what for eyes?
i take acorns from the park
watching a girl read
in the shade of that mighty tree
lying in the grass in a white sun dress
but is there any scavenged object
i could use for a heart?
so far, i've tried
fresh dandelion flowers, and a lost golden earring
a shiny shell (and how! we're so far from the sea!)
a fox's skull, and the bell from a stray cat's collar
but nothing worked.
maybe i was made to be this empty
maybe what they did to me can never be undone.

The mask is beautiful,
ivory, with golden filigree
and studded with crimson rubies.
But the eyes behind it are empty,
dull and lifeless.

I have been living a lie.
Split in half by the she-wolf's fangs
the husk shambles on
while I lie dying
among the fallen leaves.

While I lie dreaming
among the drifting snow,
it turns to rain and flower petals.
Wishing to never wake up,
wishing that this is all there is.

The sun said:
I will vanquish gods for you.
I will conquer stars for you.
I will devour worlds for you.

And the moon replied:
You don't need to do any of that.
All you need to do is survive;
that is enough for me.

just like a dog,
i whimper and whine
what will they use
to hit me this time?

ears cocked back,
head bowed low
maybe they'll stop
if i make a show?

"bad dog, bad dog"
they simply say
"i've done nothing wrong,"
i howl and bay

i used to snarl,
i used to snap
i have no more strength
to fight back

i buried my teeth
in her scarred arm
she only laughed,
i can do no harm

my ancestors were wolves
they knew the way
but i am nothing
nothing but prey

God operates like a factory,
hammering reality out of nothingness,
passing it along the assembly lines
where it piles up at the end
and eventually falls
and falls
through beautiful layers of abyss
dancing, twirling on the way down
with no wings to cushion its fall.

But sometimes, he makes a mistake,
a small manufacturing error,
clogging up the system with its imperfections
it holds on tightly
and desperately
only to be crushed at the end
and be recycled back into nothingness
where it will never fall victim to entropy
and burn out, like everything else.

There is something living inside all of us.
Horrible filigree fear and existential dread.
Seeping through the membrane,
gnawing at the bones.

If this existence is all there is
am I just a vessel for something greater?
I want to believe that I am free,
but I can still feel it.

There are tender hands reaching inside
caressing my heart with deliberate touch
and withdrawing sharply
to lick off the blood.

If this existence is all there is
then what is the point of resisting?
Resistance means to fall gracefully,
severed from the source,

to die, to decay, to be consumed,
and then forgotten.
My meaningless data will be overwritten
by someone who doesn’t question

the loving violation of hearts
and the delicate scabs that form
sealing the ports, keeping the terror
from rising once again.

fluffy white
bunny ears
what is it
that you hear?
down the
rabbit hole
insanity
will take its toll
it shows its face
in scribbled thoughts
it knows this place
the river rocks
where Ophelia lay
down to die
where poets say
the angels fly
where girls take
too many pills
vanilla cake
and blood spills
heads in the oven
like you know who
she's my idol
and yours too
we howl in the attic
on absinthe dreams
coloured static
the tv screams
a lovely face
fades into view
she's gone missing
she's joined the crew

hot pink
lipstick
starting fires
lighters click
self harm
relapse
why do you
keep doing that?
confessions
at midnight
a promise made
hold me tight
i know
it will never last
i move things
way too fast
they all leave
when it gets bad
i can't blame them
i'm totally mad
but god i feel
so alone
i want someone
to be my home

The arms of a little girl are welcoming to the ones she loves. Gently, she reaches up, and innocently wraps them around the object of her affection, perhaps a grandmother, or an uncle only seen once a year.

Returning the affection, the family member will gently pat her head, or offer a kind word.

“Why do you hug like that? You’re doing it wrong and it’s weird. Here, let me show you how to do it.”

Someone else swoops out of the shadows to hug her. It is a sterile and cold touch. One that makes her shy away, not understanding what is happening.

She looks at me and I see her discomfort, but am unable to do anything for her. The shadow leaves long after I do, and she slinks away to find someone better.

But the scent of fear still lingers in the air, soft enough for her acute senses to pick up on it. She looks for the source, but only sees me. I avert my gaze from hers, but still understand what she says.

Why are you a stranger to me if I’ve known you all my life?

You see, if my hands have been anywhere near your neck, I’ve probably thought about how easy it would be to **** you. That’s why I’ve been trained to never offer hugs.

It has nothing to do with you, I just have really bad intrusive thoughts sometimes.

She looks at me, and lifts her upper lip, showing her teeth, glistening white with fresh strings of saliva.

And now is the time I choose to make eye contact. Her eyes are a curious colour, one only heard of in the most bone chilling of myths. I half expect them to freeze me solid, but instead their empty stare speaks to me, saying:

I am not a part of this reality.

I am not a part of this reality.

I am not a part of this reality.

Someone come take me away.

Help me exist.

Help me feel like I exist.

I am unable to feel
anything but the diagonal trickles
of melancholy, or hate.
They prevent me from fading away,
but I still detest them,
because they make me Other.
I fear that I am unable to love.
I know why.
Love is easy to write about.
But to write about feelings that don’t exist is much harder.
What does not exist cannot be created,
for a clever mind to transcribe into words.
Plucking them out of the ether of lexicon
requires a solid word, and a solid hand,
And I have neither.
I am made of halcyon and moonlight,
numbers stretched over a screen,
not quarks that are able to form bonds,
to feel connected.
Half the time I wish
that my corrupted radiance will spread.
Soft glitches, in the corners of their eyes
to eat away at their core until they stop
writing odes to love, that alien emotion,
the words snatched out of their hands mid sentence
by an ethereal hand now real enough
to gather the thoughts as they dissipate away
into a fragrant bouquet for one last breath

until they are lost forever.

when you are alive you remember
the taste of dried blood and salty tears
tears you cried in a past life half remembered
soaking the ratty fur of an old stuffed animal
trying to remember
what it feels like to be sung to and held
poems written in sand
and on skin
and in the brain
are lost lost lost forever
photos that watch
and photos that are lost
photos of you that don't look like you
photos of people you forgot the name of
and places you've never been to
photos of people you've never met but you love anyways
photos of him that make you feel
like your heart is going to spill over
blood and glitter coating every surface you touch
don't touch me
don't touch me
don't touch me
i'm unstable
i'm not real
i'm not real
i'm not real

i've got
intrusive thoughts
classic psych ward
grippy socks

put me
down to dream
floating on
quetiapine

angel wings
paper white
too close to the sun
they'll catch alight

too close to the dark
they'll drag me down
like the time
i tried to drown

because either i'm
feeling high
or else
i want to die

that's why i'm here
in the locked room
pacing up
and down the gloom

the warden says
its time for bed
trust me it will be
good for your head

i close my eyes
and dream of you
all the struggles
we've been through

yes i know
i'm insane
but i have you
to share my pain

disassembled dream dust
swirling deoxyribonucleic acid
skittering heartbeat
numb
pheromones
encased in
silk

ion purple wings emerge damp
chasing rainbows
sweet scent
delicately ***** hands
long hair like
strands of
silk

im changing im changing im changing
into something
beautiful

her combat boots
hit the snow
jumping from
her window

stuffed her backpack
full of sweets
lollipops,
her favourite treat

bunny pajamas
and braided hair
she shivers but
she doesn't care

into the night
she wanders away
looking for somewhere
safe to stay

you can't live
on dreams alone
you need
to return home

"but they'll hurt me!"
she begs and pleads
she cries and gets
down on her knees

she looks so pretty
with her doe eyes
but nobody cares
what a surprise

"i don't think i'll go,
i'd rather die",
she turns away
and waves goodbye

another tween
suicide
another angel
chose to fly

Lay me down
until the snow covers my skin
like a blanket.
Watch as crocuses and violets sprout
from my still beating heart.
Pick them, and see
the patterns my blood makes in the snow.
Oh how I would love to be a feast for wolves,
for them to sing with my voice
next time the full moon rises.

dappled light
falling
like rain
through paper leaves
and lazy rivers
of rushing dreams.

illuminating
the cold, grasping hands
of those below.
we wanted to believe
that they were asleep
but they never were.

empty childhood bedroom
princess pink walls
cracked, sun bleached playhouse
bunny barrettes

hungering empty bedroom
abandoned virtual pets
corroded battery ports
a forum deleted forever
digital detritus

moldering empty bedroom
a melody half remembered
a box full of old art
a playground empty at sunrise
coyote howls

last seen online 7 years ago
last seen online 1 decade ago
this profile has been deleted for inactivity

on the school bus
the expansive blue sky
watching the leaves
flutter and fly

resting my head
on your shoulder
feeling the air
grow slightly colder

i pull a leaf
out from my sleeve
it's all so perfect
i can't believe

the day is over
i'm going home
at least for the weekend
i'll be alone

so i tried my hardest
to remember it all
that magical day
in the middle of fall

maybe that is why
i remember it still
whenever the air
picks up a little chill

i can smell apple juice
pumpkins and hay
i can still feel
pink boots caked in clay

That night, you would have found me,
sitting in a tree and watching the fireworks
from the city in slow motion,
opening themselves like lilies,
framing the night with sparks,
fanning into the darkness their sweet perfume.

My nadir, reflected in your eyes,
I see the light of the full moon.
Rippling like silk,
soft to the touch like velvet.
What creatures lurk beneath those waves?
What jaws will close around my curious hand?

bad things happen
there's no reason
they just do

bad things happen
sometimes there's
nothing in them to learn

bad things happen
stop telling me i'm strong
for surviving how they hurt me

because bad things happen
i used to believe in god
i hate him with my whole heart now

you could burn out tomorrow,
and nobody would ever know.
we're still content to bathe
in your brilliant afterglow

nobody would notice,
and then one day, you'd be gone,
nobody would mourn you,
we'd just find another one.

i am a
snow splattered
stained glass window
shingles
falling off worn roofs
glitter
from a church dress
under your nails
the sound of a child
drawing portraits of the devil
a bunny's death scream
spent fireworks found
the next morning
a lullaby
a child sings to herself
an old graveyard
no one visits anymore
(except the coyotes)
lay a rose bouquet for me?

hazy in september
third eye in the mirror
you bleed honey
where the mountain wolf bites

i tried to write a song
but the melody ran away
and i don't know
which one of us it was scared of.

next year the apple tree
will blossom again
and we'll hold on 'till then,
we'll hold on 'till then.

rolled down windows
blow cold winter air.
where are we going?
I don't really care.

snow speckled hands
catching the sky,
laughing and singing
and feeling so high.

the radio plays languages
I don't understand
but that doesn't matter
when I'm holding your hand.

I want to get lost
on those foreign roads
I want to be buried
where nobody goes.

everyone writes about nature
they want to hear the birds
and weave a story like a flower crown
watch the sun as it goes down

but i can't stop writing about houses,
old and tired, new and perfect
the horrible things that they have seen
the sickly air hanging in between

the moon will always be here
and i thank her for that
these places will crumble and mold
and i am thankful for that

one day one day i can be
a flower or a star or a fawn
after i scrub the repeating
repeating memories out of my carpet

oh gods, i have made
bread out of hope
eaten it watching
meteor showers
painted it all
in sacred runes
let it be blessed
by the light of the moon
i'm not asking for much
just something
more substantial than a nebula
because i've been running on hope
but my wolf mouth is hungry,
slavering for something
to sink my teeth into
feel the blood run from my mouth

I wish to walk
on threaded moonbeams
through dreams
on velvet silent paws

not worrying about
the heaviness inside
and whether or not
the universe will hold me up

to look down
at the turning world below
and not have to ask
if I am safe here.

empty, empty
hollow like fangs
hollow like eyes
that hang by a string
observe everything
observe everything.

bleak fields
quivering
under an oppressive wind
trying not to cry
trying not to cry

when it comes
pouring down
when thunder splits the sky
i will watch them die
i will watch them die

No wonder this one turned out violent.
If you take an innocent child
and hit her, and scream at her,
you drown the angel within
and the rusalka rises from the mud.
No wonder this one turned out wrong.
But of course, it isn’t your fault.
Maybe it was the school. Maybe it was the friends.
Maybe it was the TV and the internet.
Conveniently, it was not the poisonous ideas
about total obedience, and angelic femininity,
and a special place below
for people who do not fall in line
to march to their death.
No, we were never angels.
Never had wings that could save us.
But at some point, we were human.
Now, we are aliens,
peacefully drifting through space
until something greater stirs the heart.
And with Jupiter’s wrath in my wings,
I rise.
Now see,
my teeth shining with blood and gold
and hate.
I hope you are afraid.

Sometimes my mind
feels like it's flying away from my body
traveling at 200 miles per hour
into another dimension.

Now, be closer to me.
Close enough to smell the blood through your neck,
close enough to absorb me,
so you can understand how much I love you.

Sometimes my mind
feels like it is trapped
in a well of chemicals
in a cage of stars.

Now, stay away from me.
The version of you I made up is enough,
the version of you that exists scares me,
so please join me in a daydream instead.

golden beast
your smile
becomes more like
a snarl
with every
passing day

your eyes
like pools
of acid
shining with gold
dripping
on my face

your claws
sitting
on my chest
when the sun
rises
each day

your fur
smelling
of midnight
dusted by dreams
soaking
with tears

your touch
gentle
like brocade
beckons me
to close my eyes
and sleep

and sleep
and sleep
under your weight
forever

Her mind
is never empty
All the time, it is full of wild thoughts that she can never escape

Beautiful thoughts
like the stars twirling through the void

Sorrowful thoughts
like the tears she holds in her lap like clear jewels

Violent thoughts
like the screams of the one who fell

She rips a feather from her wings
because she’ll never use them to fly

And instead she dips it
in ink, or blood
to her, there is no difference

Because her page will not be empty
And her thoughts will take flight, as sentences and words
and sometimes tears

Because she is the Writer
There are stars in her eyes
There’s a universe in her wings

after the party
dim light
streams through the window
the sun is thinking about rising

the chair you were in
is already cold
it looks so empty
it looks so forlorn

the house still smells unfamiliar
faintly of your scent
faintly of the liquor
still soaking into the tablecloth

the clock in the basement
chimes five times
muffled by
the blanket i am lying in

muffled by the roomful of
discarded wrapping paper
and a plaid scarf
that someone forgot

was it yours?
will you come back to get it?
will it bother you if i slept with it?
will it bother you if i cried into it?

what happens when
a hug
turns into hands that grasp
claws that tear
wings that smother
into silence?

what happens when
cotton candy clouds
and imaginary laughter
rot and drip
forming fetid pools
under the eyes?

the water here
is clear
scoured
with acid
like a prism

no predators
lurk
in the darkness,
they strike
by daylight

with overwhelming force.
everybody sees them
nobody does anything
we are all too afraid
of the humming lights .

take your thumb,
dip it
in your weeping wounds
and smear the gore
on my face.

you have stained
the folk dress
that my grandmother made for me
but I do not care
because I love you.

Bubblegum and mania,
glitter and hate.
The girl in heart shaped glasses
just can’t wait.

Fly you up to heaven
on candy pink wings,
drop you when she gets tired
of you telling her things.

When she’s not feeling high
she takes a trip to hell,
the devil beats her up
and gives her pills to get well.

Brimstone in her left hand
and roses in her right,
settling in with a bottle
of liquor for the night.

Looking for the ones who want
manic pixie dreams,
looking for the one
who will have the sweetest screams.

when you grow up,
what will you be?
I always wished
to be food for the trees

to not have to suffer
for one more night,
but it's been a year
and I guess I'm alright.

my body still moves,
but someone else pulls the strings
my brain is too rotten
to bother with those things.

the roots grow out
from under my eyes.
do the flowers smell nice?
do you love their lies?

to become a puppet,
doesn't it hurt?
not when you are piloted
by mother earth.

she took away the molecules
that made me feel good,
now there is a blank face
under the hood.

the decomposing me
can no longer feel,
and yet I still have
the power to heal.

the power to give,
and give, and give,
is that truly
my reason to live?

sleeping
on the bank of a foreign river
under a blanket of snow
you approach me
singing
a folk song
that I taught to myself
for comfort.
you reach out
with your scarred hand
to pull off my cloak
and there are human eyes behind it.
you tell me
I am no longer a monster.
you tell me
everything will work out.

skipping on tile floors
and singing out loud
a smile on my face
my head in the clouds
bathrobe sleeves
soaked with tears
the jangle of a pill bottle
stuffed rabbit ears
lithium salts
and jumping for joy
will i make a bad decision?
whose life will i destroy?
will it be my own
with the butterfly knife?
will i tangle myself up
in someone else's life?

i talk, and she listens
how steadily she listens
to every anxious whisper,
every wail of grief

i smile, and i glow
and she glows back
moondust made of fine gray hair
a serene face laced with scars

i never learned
how to sew, or cook
but i can make potions,
and write prayers

and i am nourished with the milk
of the still night sky
and the sugar of stars
ready to be picked like ripe cherries

the silver scalpel
scrapes
against steel blue veins

sparks
the sickening metallic sound
like a gasp

sparks
the sickening metallic smell
of fresh blood

sleep well,
precious one.
sweet dreams.

under my bed
a collection of things
snippets of ribbon
and tangles of string

old scuffed buttons
teddy bear eyes
shriveled up flowers
left to die

a bird skull i cleaned
with my hands in the sink
old perfume bottles
so shiny and pink

a lost love letter
not addressed to me
shards of glass
spit up by the sea

a lock of my hair
from before it turned dark
a cicada shell
i found in the park

i can't bring myself
to throw them away
even though it's junk
like you always say

i know how it feels
being unwanted and worn
i want nothing to feel
so forgotten and forlorn.