You will remain a sunrise
that wakes me up in the morning,
a morning
that fills my day with light.
You will stay with me every day
so we can fall asleep together every night
and every night I will dream of you
waiting for the dawn
so I can wake up next to you again.

Where there's light even at night
and the darkness obscures nothing,
where living isn't frightening
and hopes don't fade away
there is a wood
that keeps all the dreams
given up for good,
left for dead
in the oblivion of resignation
but wishes don't die
they fly away
and turn into lanterns
among those branches that wait for us
where the dark doesn't exist.

Fever drives burning rubber and sweating coolant. I never thought this would be me; Living like a willow weeping stalagmite that drips in a cave, gutted of its most precious treasures. Volcanic emissions eat their way up my esophagus, acid refluxing, reflecting the queasiness vigorously sloshing in my abdomen. A motel's vacancy sign glows behind the round masses that sit within the bony sockets of my skull. Void of thought and reason, the cavernous hole that appears to swallow, swallowing my words, swallowing my tongue, swallowing my teeth one by one; Chiclets, sliding down into molten rock. Crumbling pieces of hope plunge, deteriorating, integrating with the earth, six feet down, bodies buried in boxes, confining cells of solitary. Laid out like a game of memory, time passes, and no one remembers who lays where.

when you forget what healthy feels like
and blue veins rise up from your skin
do your lungs fight? does the heat bite?
do blue fingernails mirror your bruises
blue like a little lighter's light?

got a condo in manhattan
but it's empty unless i want to be
cold in the winter
and alone; comfortable

used to call an old flame up around that
area and just vibe
no words, pure concentration on
the movements of our energies

and how they connect to the stars
above or maybe we were just high
out of our minds and being warm
next to each other watching the rain

was something we both could take
home with nostalgic feelings
silence so comforting and numbing

at age 10,
my mother pointed
At the small birth mark
On my left knee and said,
"Someone's going to love
You for that one day."

At age 16,
I told her that a boy,
One far away,
Told me I was unloveable.
"He couldn't be more wrong,"
She promised.

At age 19,
She picked up my prescription,
And cried,
"I don't want you
To get your heart broken,
Mary." She sobbed.

The empty encouragements mean nothing,
When a daughter has decided
That the need to be tragically beautiful,
Is more important than the need
To be exceptionally loved.

'you're such a good girl'
beep beep beep

unfamiliar breathing, followed by
silence. my naked body is
alone on my bed sheets.
loneliness breaks my own hand and
morals for a way to get
off but i don't. i sit there and
conjure up sweet whisperings
of how i want you. *******,
deep and hard and cold.

if i'm such a good girl, then
tell me. why do i wish my flesh
will melt away like the leaves?
masochistic idiosyncrasies
wrap my vanilla heart up in
a pretty little bow. your fingers
beg to scratch off my humanity;
they have to wait their turn.