have you written my name
in the margins of your notes
yet?

(not that I have or anything.)

it's just that I keep thinking
of your smile and
the way you wrapped your pinky around mine
when we promised to see each other again.

I can fill my own shallow grave
You always said I was too vain

But you are too bland
With the vanilla ideals you seem to depend on

So I can't sit here, and watch you do it
Although it would provide some entertainment

Once, I was agile
And I spun webs of golden lies

I was a spider in my nikes
With eight shining glass eyes

Now, I lure you down to the reservoir
Where I'm face-down in mud

I did love you, truly
I just must have loved myself more

Write a song about me.
Illustrate me in your novel.
Remember me.

Mind like an acrobat
She sways precariously back
and forth with the constant influx of travelers
Who never seem to stay more than a night
Part with their cynical phrases
And compare her to a trapeze

Her skin holds decades of atrophy
Harsh marks inflicted by others, and by herself
They pattern her complexion with their marred strokes.
If she existed only in oils and stretched canvas
Painted by Van Gogh himself
She would be a masterpiece.

Even imperfections in the sky
Draw weary eyes to gaze upon them
Amplified in the freckles on her face
Pinpricks on the vast unknown
Flaming ***** of unfathomable chaos
Look like stars to the naked eye

There are bugs in my ears again tonight
And they sing me to sleep
With their chirping

They tuck in
To rest inside my mind
And nibble on my brain when they get hungry

when oceans have dried
and dry, cracked dirt
lines their empty craters,
i will stop loving you.

when the scorching sun ceases to burn
and Earth has been
plunged into eternal darkness,
i will stop loving you then.

when there is no world turning
no sun rising
no waves crashing
upon rocky shores

then
only then
will i stop loving you.

The sun was blackened
with snow, and the valley closed in quietly
with humming,
quietly as an hour of prayer.

There was a time
When each voice, each note
Carried on the wind as if
It had sprouted wings and flown away

And crystal water rained down
As confetti
Decorating the air around us
And sprinkled onto our hair and lashes

But I am alone now
Surrounded by flurries
Hearing nothing but the monotonous droning,
Trapped in this globe

Humming becomes deafening
And ice curdles my skin
Grey clouds have overtaken the sun in the sky
And you are gone.

Purple sadness
Is the sadness of classical music and
Eggplant sandwiches alone at my desk

It mixes the blue sadness of
Drowning in an ocean
Of salt

With the red sadness of
a fire blazing
In the pit of my stomach

So yes purple sadness is heavy like blue
and hot like red
And it sounds like Mozart
Tastes like fleshy fruit grown deep in the earth.

And it’s empty.
Empty.
Empty.