the biggest baddest man
just lost to the bigger badder man

if i could wander across
the endless universe
& explore every natural wonder
without ever needing sustenance
that would be eternal bliss

I want a shrine for my remains
A hole full of dirt & creepy crawling things
No preservative fluids pumped in my veins
Just bury me in silk & my favorite rings

I will not pray to extend my existence
I will not be received by the omnipresence
I am undisturbed in my terra firma pocket
with fungus sprouting from my eye sockets

unbelievable cries
indescribable squealing
torturing, tumbling, free-wheeling
through an endless dark demise

a hole in the world!

The mind is a kettle.
When the world burns her *** a little too hot
she gets heated; steams & screams.
Yeah, it comes off aggressive
but all this means
is she’s ready to spill the tea.

What are we having tonight?
Soothing sleepytime
or a green caffeine?
That depends…
Does the kettle ponder patiently?
You can’t rush a good brew!
Achieving quality bitterness is time consuming.
The longer she steeps, the stronger the truth.

i tried to keep my feelings at bay,
but the tide rose faster
than the current could pull me away.

just one look,
and the water surrounds me.
just one kiss,
and im already drowning.

I don’t care
if you stop and stare
at the fancy flirty fellows.

and I don’t care
if you take me where
im a daisy in a rosy meadow.

I don’t mind
if its not my time
when the sun’s shining full and bright.

but when the day is done
and you’ve had your fun,
baby be mine tonight.

i never thought your words
could be so incendiary,
and ignite in me the person
who I’ve never had to face.
the one who always hides her face.
the one who cowers away
from the spotlight of your inward gaze.
but you sir, have shifted me
if ever so slightly.
and i do believe now
that the person you see
is the person i was meant to be.

if you were a lego
id still step on you.

ain’t got an appetite
can i borrow a light?

can’t sleep at night
can i borrow a light?

im tryna get high
can i borrow a light?

im ******* done with this life
can i borrow a light?

i’ve descended through hell’s open doors
and i can’t see ****, lost my torch

so can i borrow a light?

im gonna pocket that ****
can’t face my demons in the dark

i try to stay cool
around you
but you make me so hot
that the butterflies
in my stomach
are starting to sweat

i try to keep high and dry
around you
but the touch of your lips
is like a cool drink of water
i take one sip
and im already wet

the days got better
little by little
until i started to feel like
sunshine

you’re the voice in my brain
my conscience to abstain
from the recklessly insane thoughts
i tend to maintain

you’re the cure to my pain
the taste of sugarcane
i plug you into my veins
till i feel alive again

you’re the crown to my reign
and the anchor to my chain.
you’re the only reason i sustain
to see another day.

all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring
slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring
never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries
just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary
and you read it, pathetic,
invading my privacy
called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety
cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid”
“you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty”
well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety
for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy
and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry
so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society
where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?

i thought my thoughts were justified
but who’s the judge of our own minds?
what goes on behind the scenes?
a puppet master pulling strings?
im left to question my integrity.

i love the way that trees
dance in the wind
every little branch swaying
to the song of a different tune
every wooden limb letting go
of the leaves they carried
once nurtured, grown, & cared for
now flying away
with the rhythm of the breeze

I gave her love.
watered her roots
and watched her grow.
she returned to me
a single leaf
that floated to the ground
and crinkled dead
beneath my feet.

i dont always try my best
i dont always succeed
i dont always get it right
and thats ok.

i cut you out almost everyday
and still you linger
like smoke on breath
from a morning cigarette
and the ashes on my fingers.

even if i ***** the flames
of memory and desire,
ill always yearn for
the secondhand burns
from standing too close to your fire.

im floating away
into endless space

in search of myself
and dreams to chase.

i almost forget
what’s holding me back

from drifting away
into depthless black.

then your hand squeezes mine,
time seems to rewind,

suddenly im home again
with you by my side.

through the endless expanse
and the universe wide,

its next to you,
myself i’ll find.

i wanna be high,
ascend to the sky,
climb to the top & then take a dive.
fall like a star while the world watches by.
im just a bird who never learned to fly.

your green eyes can’t deny
the lies that lie behind
every little compliment
was slander in disguise
your green eyes cannot hide
what’s going on inside
poems wheedling from your lips
taste more like mythic alibis

i love the way
that light refracts
like a prism
off the glass
to the windows
of your soul

in a dream i saw you smiling
as bright as the life you once radiated.
you sat in your favorite recliner
and the rocking chair on the stoop.
though i know you are a vagrant
wandering between realms of the animate,
the organic
the decaying
and the remains of you in a vessel
furnished with powdery human residue.
i could not think of a better word to describe you as
than angel


in this dream i saw my father
a fervent believer
in the one they call the father
in all the world’s creation.
and in this dream we argued,
for i am not “the daughter he raised”
under biblical predisposition.
i have freedom of doubt, no faith do i worship
except the good in people to make life worth living
and mourned respect for the departed.


never have i thought we’d be met with the father of all the world’s creation.
in fact, there’s nothing to be met with after drawing in our last breath.
i told my father his faith was *******
while you sat there behind me
looking as alive as you did
the day before you died.
and my mind couldn’t understand
how you were here
when god is a phantom
and angels aren’t real.


and yet, here you were.
tethered to my conscious.
i couldn’t look you in the face and deny your existence.
your face smiling that same bright smile.
same as in the memories that remain.
memories as real as your remains.
i do not believe in angels
only electric bursts in my cosmic web of neural branches
but your smile felt more real, more tangible,
than your actual, physical ashes.


to my beloved brother,
and my dearest uncle,
i know you’re not with me anymore
but have you really gone?
not from this heart, not from this dream.
if i should see you both again
in the realm of shut-eye,
i am grateful for the spiritual confusion
you besiege me,
for i shan’t be concerned with the existence of angels that i disregard in my waking time.
because when i am asleep, and reality is unbound,
and you appear to me as clear as materiality,
heaven is real
heaven is in my mind.

you ever think that maybe the reason
I blame you for the constant pain
from trauma 10 years ago
is because I spent the last 9
blaming myself while nothing changed

There’s nothing safe about your affection
when it’s followed by your sheets
strangled round my neck,
begging & pleading.
For the love of god stop eating.
You’re attracted to perfection
and it’s pretty ******* ******
if you ask me.

What flaws of yours can I have?
Or could I even have my own?
But if you hate me now like I hate myself
then I’d be better off alone.
And I’ll probably dump your stupid ***
over something not worth fighting for
but I’ll live through hell for 3 more years
if you say that you love me more
than that ******* *****
you were crushing on for 6 months
though I doubt she’ll ever give you a rub
I know you’ll always want one.

woman, with
heart shaped hips
over a thick
round bottom.
eat it.

painting pictures in my brain
from the brushstrokes of
a ***** pen
dipped in watercolor rain
aquifers of ink
dye the reservoirs of dreams
seeping underneath the layers
of magnetic black earth
if the mind was a planet
and ideas were a shovel
digging holes
through the gravel
to find my inspiration
a secret golden treasure
buried in a rotted
wooden box
with a broken lock

i thought infinity was impossible
but now i can't be sure
cause every day that passes by
i seem to love you even more

I am on a journey
with mostly unknown destinations
but I know that with every step
I will guide myself in becoming
an exceedingly finer version of me.
I am forging a path
where the fruits of my future
eclipse the poisons of my past.

i am learning to find joy
wherever i find myself

beneath a cluster of trees
i looked up and imagined
the most beautiful wooden house
i didn’t change a thing about the trees
instead, i thought how id change myself
how would i be a most
humble tenant of the trees?
id rather strip to my feral roots
than see these sturdy beings
be shredded into nothing more
than a suburban museum
for my hoarded collection
of cute shiny human things.

sometimes i think id rather let it all go,
and just climb a tree.

wherever she goes she shakes the earth
screaming echoes down the hall
feed me! feed me!
whipping a storm of hair & terror.
she makes you feel belittled, battered,
like you never really mattered,
until her hungry eyes feasted upon your subservience.
my scariest, hairiest lady.
my dearest, fearless child.
she doesn’t need nobody
unless she wants somebody.
kagome, monarch of her mother’s smile.

what a sad world we live in
when comfort comes from a bottle,
acceptance from the monitor,
and genuine joy from internet shopping.
what a lonely way to live.
spending all our dollars
on coffee, *****, amazon,
and amateur pornstar models.
wondering why a like, a comment,
or any kind of attention
is so god ****** addictive.

we spend so much time
telling ourselves to be better
that we start to believe
we’re less than standard.
sub par.
perhaps our greatest achievement
should be recognizing ourselves
as good enough.
and whatever goals achieved thereafter
are personal victories,
not society’s expectations fulfilled.

silence
it subtly begs
your attention

i wish there was something to do
when i sit around with nothing to do.

yet when i'm free from the clock
and my hands are unglued,

all i do is nothing
and nothing will do.

we don’t love each other anymore
but we treat ourselves like little toys.
i’ll make believe our life is great
while you pretend you’re ‘working late’.
we tried to fake a makeshift home
the husband, wife, and family dog.
a plastic life where nothing’s amiss
just two kids who make dolls kiss.

i sat alone with myself and asked of me,
what are the ways i can make you happy?

she dropped her gaze and locked eyes on the floor,
as if looking through her past with a fine-tooth comb.

i looked around the room and then back at myself,
took a deep breath and then spoke aloud,

“this conversation’s pretty heavy,
and i’m not sure if i’m ready,
to admit to myself that i just don’t know
how to keep me going steady
when this excuse for a life still feels rather petty.

....... but you knew that already.”

******* hanging lower than your elbows
but who cares? i don’t
just more for me to hold
and rest your shoulders for a moment

i am a simple gal
fascinated by nature’s ‘mundane’
toss me in a patch of green
nothing but a mile of trees
and ill spend hours lost
staring at the bark

nicotine gets me high
an electrifying rush
shaky feeling in my limbs
that i just can’t get enough
i’m not sure if i like it
but i keep taking puffs
and littering my lungs
with cigarette butts

my best friend is my right hand guy.
tending my needs
sharing bad dreams
catching post traumatic tears.
anytime,
every time,
except when he’s beneath me
my thighs sandwiching his ears.

my best friend is the guy on my right.
shoulder to lean on
always by my side
like honey to a bear.
anywhere,
everywhere,
especially when we’re driving
seeing that my eyes are the better pair.

my best friend will always be the right guy.
tried and truest
whatever’s ahead
in my corner he stands.
there will never be anyone,
or anything,
that will ever hold a candle,
a flame,
or an everlasting blaze
to my right-hand man.

from mother’s purpureal
ruby berries
we nourish ourselves
consuming her tincture of life

and all the democrats cheered,
happy blue year

i am everything he is
and everything he isn't.
the good, the bad, & the better.
maybe i am just a seed
fallen from a poisoned tree,
but I have uprooted
and sought nourishment;
the kind he could never provide.
and now,
I am a taller, stronger
breath of fresh air.

There’s no one else
Id rather be tethered to
As I climb life’s mountain.
He is the wind in my sails
and the anchor that I cling to.
He is the one I turn to for guidance
The needle in my compass.
He is the earth to which Im firmly cradled
Bound by his gravity
to be vitalized by his air.

i'm addicted to the critics
the ones that compliment me
and the ones that contradict me
and the ones that just forget me

machu picchu,
my mountain of a man.
your sturdy broad shoulders
match your strong rough hands.
i get scratches on my cheeks when i summit to the peak;
exhausted from the cardio and dopamine depleted.
its always a good time being a tourist in your city.
ill be sure to come again.

imagine a world
where every season
was even more silent
than the one before