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

you
are the reason
my voice shakes when i sing

you
are the reason
i only feel safe in corners

you
are the reason
i talk like a baby doll

you
are the reason
i can walk without making a sound

you
are the reason
i guard my neck while i sleep

you
are the reason
there are teeth in my stomach;
gnawing and gnashing for the next terrible thing to happen.

i can't go a day without thinking of it.

you
make me sick.

kisses
soft
as handmade lace
sweet
as sun-warmed honey

forever staining my soul
red
with the bitter aftertaste of kalina

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

I am embraced by
The Left Hand Path's
righteous rage.
Watch me throw
my halo in the trash
my wings in the trash
your words in the trash.

Only I can **** them all.
Rampage, rampage,
until angels lay at my feet
like fallen stars.
God can't do anything.
Only I can.
Only I can save myself.

there was going to be a storm
and the air was still
we held our breath watching
the setting sun blaze through the clouds
curtain call
down the empty road
with old streetlights
mobbed by moths
white as the moonflowers
slowly stretching open as if
peeled by curious fingers
i stop to smell one
curtain call
but we don't have music
so i'll sing our reprise
duet with me, darling
peach scented words
as i idly play with your hair
and you with my choker necklace

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

lying
sneaking
starting fights
hiding bruises
crying silently
oversleeping
overeating
starving myself
hurting myself
hurting the people i love

between these
fluffy ears
there is infinite dream space

so come
take a rest
nestled in the grass

under a snowy blanket.
come,
take it slow

leave your worries
to the birds,
and close your eyes.

when the blood
dries from your claws,
you won't even realize that

I can't hear myself breathe
I can't hear my own pulse
all I hear is


.

There is a place in my mind
where there are ropes made of vine
hanging down from the moon,

supporting a swing,
covered in flowers that sing,
I'd love to go back there soon.

His lover, so fair,
who makes her home there,
has wings that shimmer with light.

While he is asleep,
in dreams so deep,
she runs to me every night.

Transcend with me.
Make yourself believe,
and maybe you will visit me too,

in my grand delusions
the sweetest illusions
will finally make themselves true.

Nature follows Witches' laws
you get what you give
three times over.

Leaping from shadow to shadow
on malformed legs
with an inhuman gait,
you leave us to feast on the scraps from your table
with an appetizer of rat poison.

One day shimmering hands will drag you under the sea
and you will understand why we have canine teeth.
We are predators. We are built to feast.
Stalking and pouncing with cat's paws
incapacitating with snake's fangs
crushing through bone with dog's jaws.

Can you feel it?
Can you feel the curse?
Can you feel the abomination you created?
Here is where god abandons you,
takes one look at the beast and leaves you to fight it alone.
All the holy light in the world
could not expunge this terror
like all the prayer in the world
fails to protect the vulnerable from cruelty.

Over
and over
and over.

spare the rod
and spoil the child
yes i've been spoiled
you weren't mild

as a bruised peach
begins to rot
why wouldn't a child?
have you forgot?

now i have no more
cheeks to turn
what you did
makes my stomach churn

i know god
will condemn me to hell
even a sinner like me
can tell.

but i fear hell
less than i fear you,
it will be better than what
you put me through.

so i am free,
i am unbound
now that i know
i'm going to the ground

i'll take my time
to make you pay
and you will never
forget the day

this fallen angel's
wings were ripped
this little saint's
halo slipped.

Today I think I will
carve a little heart into my neck
as a memoir
of when you bit me there
and I licked the blood from your lips.

my heart threatens to overflow with love
but there is no one there to catch it
so instead,
i will put it in used perfume bottles
(this one is faceted! like a diamond!)
and give it out for free
until there is none left for me.

the faerie led me
to the blossoming marsh
while I slept
under moonlight's trance

again to the place
where the crickets hum
and the grass is damp
under my bare feet

where the reed grasses grow
to cover your body
and the sparrows lap up your blood
and take it to the sky

it will fall as rain
soaking my hair
sating my roots
under which you lay dreaming

there is something special
about the poetry of children,
the art of little girls
half remembered stories
spilling over from a past life
soon to be forgotten
scrawled on lined paper
decorated with stickers
scraps of fabric
and fallen leaves
a grin missing teeth says
"how do you spell angel?"
all innocence, sugary innocence,
but there is none here
this one draws devils
dancing at night
where have you been?
what have they shown you?
why do you already know
a hundred ways to use the colour red,
smashing markers and crayons
until they bleed and scream?

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?

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

Drench me in
the sweet stardust
that falls from your lips when you speak.
I know you have a silver tongue
but I am already a statue-
if I must be rusted inside,
at least let me be plated
in glamorous lies.