sometimes i forget that i
exist so
desire me, require me
am i not the oxygen that keeps you alive
the very oxygen that could set you alight

skin on skin,
right left and centre
blazing trails along my spine

set my lungs on fire
watch as i burn alive
from my stomach to my throat
burn me up, liquified fire
melting into my brain, setting my nerves aflame

in my dreams i spit blood & gum. it always seems to fall forever, which is weird because i'm standing on solid ground. / in my dreams there's so many babies, the tiny forgotten ones & the ones i birthed & the ones that died inside me. / i don't know what it means, just like i don't know what it means when she doesn't eat all day / just like when he sits behind me or when i wish i was / zaina. / do the ambulances haunt your neighborhood? is it like a wool wool wool blanket the way / the sirens keep going for hours? / she tells me she wants fries, or that she doesn't like her dad, and i'm there but i don't know what to say. it's not like last year, last year when i was made of metal & we were all / figments. it's better now because i never wanted to be dust. i think i just wanted to / **** my fingers & sit in the back of class / i wanted my heartbeat to sit down, to relax / babe, take a load off

***** *** and cigarettes
bad decisions, no regrets.
Painted lips and fingertips
lace, leather, gags and whips.
Cheap motels, steamy nights
sweaty flesh and candlelights.
Pushing limits, breaking rules
naked dips in swimming pools.
Getting high while living low
riding rails, pure white snow.
Playing games & telling lies
the look of lust in lovers eyes.
Rendevouz in seedy places
sloppy kisses, hot embraces.
Ménage à trios, or even four
anything goes behind locked door...
Shots of Jack make it all alright-
just another low life night.

sick!!!!!!!!!!!! shaky shaky
can you hear the paper in my lungs
like i can

i can hear it

i can hear it like i hear
the screaming of anonymous
mouths
in my obsessive
compulsive mind
i hear it like the
cries of a pummeled boy
who cries

do you peel skin off your fingers? do you rock back and forth
on the floor in the bathroom on the floor

why am i in the bathroom why did i lock the door????

you run from this i run from this
we all run from this like we run
from uncertainty even when we
make it pretty in our poetry it's
not pretty we're not pretty
there's paper in my lungs.

cut it up breathe it in
listen like paper breaths
sound like violins
what an orchestra these paper cuts
become when you listen
when you hum
and the paper sits in your lungs.

i tell myself im feeling better.
no social media
no outside distractions
just me and my mind.

ive made quite a few changes in these seemingly eternal summer months
ive changed my diet
changed my thinking
my sleep schedule
my hobbies and interests
even my wardrobe.

ive made all these changes
ive gotten out of my head (for the most part)
so if ive made all these changes and if im doing all of these new and better things
why do i still feel so low ?

i feel low not as in sad
no sad is too simple, too cliche, too blase
i feel low as in my heart will start to clench and struggle to beat
my breathing gets shallow
my thoughts are dulled and become sullen and narrow
like im on the verge of a never arriving panic attack

so tell me if im filled with no responsibilities no standards to hold myself to
filled with a sense of freedom and "peace" as many would say
how come if you asked me to today
i still couldnt put my so called peace on a scale of 1 to 10 ?

The Social Life

A monkey sits on the roof, eats a bon, bon
with its wrapper on teasing a dog.

I sit in the bar, with Sylvia and Fred, drink
cola through a straw.
Bottles on shelves promise me I will be
strong, feel at ease with this weird couple.

Fear will flutter away
like butterflies in a glade
disturbed by a hare.

A small glass of beer,
the monkey laughed.
came down from the roof.

I'm confident again
Fred is funny and
Sylvia is beautiful

white noise. a fan.
the wind, curling around red sand.
clinging to your memories, your hands,
dripping like lost leaves in a lost land,
the scratching of time on mortal man,

can you feel it
in the back of your mind?
these are the sounds
we wash
and leave behind.

Sadness is like sipping sea drops drowning down the trench
Sadness is the stain of rain glazed moonbeams on a bench

Sadness is my soulmate; sadness she's my willing *****
Softly singing spirits sleep when sorrows are all spent

I'm happiest alone in my blue room
When the new moon
Brings hymns from my blue muse

Curled up in my blue egg
Bought some new Keds
Now I'm spinning blue webs

You didn't mean to do this
But you really blue this
Turning everything so blueish

We may just be two fish
But I don't know who this
Swimming soul is who could do this

I dug up some blue blooms
To fill my blue bath with fumes
While my bottle consumes
these blue veins like reigns how the hurricaine looms

I don't want to play with you boy
This blue pen is my favorite toy
I'm a kind kitten who doesn't **** coy

You can kick me til I'm sick and then make me lick the wounds
And from far away I'll meow to you blue blue tunes