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at Oct 2017

The hum of a patient amp
wraps around your moving lips
A silent symphony screams in my ears
but grows silent
as the clean ring of a guitar
flows from your dancing fingers

Dial up the gain
I can hear the toast crumbs
against chilling marmalade
hear the sing of smoke-ridden lungs
with the crisp chirp of an early bird.


Callused taps
steel strings warmed
from fleeting fingers sliding up
and down the brisk wooden limb
waking up from its slumber.

Soft groove of a joystick
sweaty plastic buttons
you were the exciting buzz
that vibrated in my palm
when I hit that combo
at Oct 2017
When the nights get too long
and my heart gets too heavy

and nothing but regret and indifference

I pray for the twinkling spots in the sky
and the pale capsules in my palm

to take me
at Aug 2017
I'm sorry my bones are fragile,
breaking from the touch of your voice.
I'm sorry my tears burned your delicate skin,
and sorry if my screams broke your ribs.

I'm sorry I ran away,
away from your charcoal claws.
I'm sorry I house a broken body
and tore my cracking heart.

I'm sorry I fought off the darkness in my veins,
but too tired to fend off your demons.
I'm sorry I was the one who carved your scars
and squeezed your creaking lungs.

I'm sorry for saying "I'm sorry."
I'm sorry for believing that phrase
can heal bullet wounds,
and align planets.
at Aug 2017
My name is Yellow.
As in the skin I bare,
and the heart beneath.

like the perfect grades,
and the failing student.

like the title stripped from my father,
and the title he wishes to strip from me.

unlike the parents,
and the silent daughter.

My name is Yellow.
And I am proud.
at Jul 2017
pacing breaths,
squeezing hands,
clenching teeth.

my lips move,
my throat knots,
tears pour instead of words.

hold my hand across the screen
kiss my shaky breaths and whisper
“you are Brave."
at Jun 2017
an orange hangs in the sky
air sweet of citrus
the falling star
paints clouds with the spectrums
of a youthful heart

the thin ebony fingers
at the edge of the sinking skies
reached for the

I really like oranges.
at Jun 2017
My nails marked constellations,
rosé stars glistening on the yellow sky.

The deepest mark guides my frail bones,
weeping cherry wine across the heavens.

Let the crimson moons dangle on my skin,
painting my body with that scarlet lipstick.

Accent my amber stomach with shadows of my ribs,
lined up like the stormy clouds above my teeth.

I hold these flaws in my callused hands,
bury them deep in the veins that strangle my heart...

They keep my rusty lungs singing.
sorta unfinished (but oh well)
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