I've been clipping my nails in bed,
and I haven't vacuumed since you left,
but I never did anyway, that was always you,
same with the dishes.
I ended up breaking those,
I think the song I was listening to was too sad,
and it took control, and I lost myself.
I'm sorry, I hope you're not mad.
Would it be weird if I started to cry?
I think I might cry.
I'm happy though, I swear I'm happy.
Oh God, I hope I'm happy.

My hair is longer now,
I've been too tired to cut it,
and a little scared, because I know you like to cut hair.
I guess you could say I'm saving it for you,
even though I didn't save some other things,
more important things.
I keep remembering all these lies I told you,
and I've been writing them down,
trying to figure out how I could make up for them.
I guess I can't.
Okay,
I think I'm going to cry-

You wouldn't believe
how much effort I put into
shaving my left knee.

It's impossible to breathe
at this height,
but I'd rather not
fall asleep.

My skin is moist
with conversation,
and sticky sweet
from an earlier time.

Strange,
it's barely a memory now.

The looks I got
when my skin started melting,
only if you knew,
or understood.

The words slurred
from everyones noise holes:
calm.

When I noticed one
of the lights were out,
I felt like apologizing,
or leaving; but I didn't.

I never do,
it's just not appealing
enough.

Even if I started screaming,
or threw away my barriers,
it wouldn't change anything.
I'd still be a slave
to dusty ambitions,
a slave to my heart.

Some attempts proved them
to be worthy,
but the faults ruined
so much more.

Truth isn't
as scary as it seems,
the hurt only stings
for a little while.

I'm horribly in love with the sound of your voice,
and I'm sick and twisted from the syllables your throat pours.

I want you to take my picture without any light,
because I'm aching to get rid of your dictionary.

The metal in my mouth is gone but I still feel the same,
I guess the porcelain clashes with the wrinkles on your face.

My interests aren't what they used to be,
because of the way you make me feel,
and if I really loved you,
then nothing I said would be real.

even when I'm with you I miss you,
but I try really hard not to when you're gone.

I keep trying to love you less,
or love you different,
but I can't.

I need some more:
s                              p

                  a
     ­                                  c
        e.

I want some more:

s                              x.
               e

I hold you         closer
                         (in thought). you're a dream (a memory).
alone: you are my bedroom criticism.
I hate: when you're afraid to kiss me
(with pickles on my breath) "I hate you"
you     in the same exhaustion
             as walking up stairs.  
give me confidence
give me pudding
             tell me secrets
             tell me lies
show me hunger
show me face (your face)
               buried under the sheets
               hidden in shadow, laying in snow.
vinegar's ringing. pick up.
                                      "I'm not good at this." (your shadow)
"It's morning, what are you planning to say?"  "Can we do this another time?"
                                      "I'm not good at this."
vinegar's tired.
                                            hang up.

I stared at you for hours                "I don't know what to say."
"you're beautiful when you                don't know what to say."
                                        "make me laugh."
the things you said: "please" "go to sleep"
                                                                ­  I'll tell you more tomorrow.

woke up back to back with another piece of myself and
tried to absorb dreams through his sleeping.
these attempts proved how useless a lot of what led to this moment were.
I’m clean, and in the dregs of my suffering heart,
playing my strings, smacking my keys, snapping with rings
of bruises. grease stains on my skin.
he was good *** in the moonlight
but he didn’t bring me the pleasure I so often seek.
“If I can’t find love with you, I’ll find it somewhere else.”
he’s a tangled leg, a darkened face
a mirrored mask.
I see him in the colors he avoids
in his search for solitude.
now it’s my turn.
and I’m going to bend.

hair drips over me like rain
open the windows and fall asleep with socks on
avoid the pain, of a twisted neck from where you slept.
wake up
I hear you singing
and smile
and laugh
and mash into the pillows beneath my comforter.
       give me something to dance to!
I'm alone and the dresser seems friendly,
still I take the weekends off for the presidents
some say sleeping on sunday is a sign of respect for religion
really ringing in rear-back
bare back
roads, and hills
of skin and bones
that stab you and grab you
goodnight!
                  it's raining.
don't you dare shut the window.
          I double dare you, don't want to share you,
but I will. the old shackles were beaten with brand new keys.
it'd be good to know a lock smith in times like these.

The sound of your voice makes me feel so real,
to become deaf is my only fear.

I'm all alone,
but I'm in the mood to feel.

"You can't stop can you?"

I've been staring at a reflection of myself
that's been staring at you.

"Where do you come from?"

I don't know

"It's obvious you don't know where you're going."

I've just met you and already I've seen too much,
too much and not enough all at once and I can
only wish you the best with all that will follow.

Distance from all you've known is approaching,
but love and knowledge will hold you close.
Not only your own love but the love of your family and friends and the people you will meet on your journey.

Love holds no judgment, or grudges.
Love simply gives you the room to experience
and will never turn away.

A spark was caught in your wick
and has grown into a flame,
that very spark lit the pathway in which you have been following
since your soul connected with another's: each others.
You two beautiful people have found something indescribable,
yet all who surround you can feel the happiness in which it creates.

an apology isn't good enough,
neither is an explanation.

Sometimes only your heart can help,
but even then it's still not enough.

I guess you just have to tear off your skin,
so they can see what you're really made of.

It's as simple as it gets,
and I hope that you think it's beautiful.

Because I've been sitting in the dark,
to hide from the shadow of my chaos.

Only so that you might see,
what lies beneath my swollen blue.

I know I've used these words before,
but I'm going to try it in a new way.

I'm sorry,
but I'm not in love with you.

removing the "I" from the "Self"
is a concept that I, as myself, have difficulties understanding.
perhaps it's the culture that I live in but it seems inescapable
to use "I" as a helper for description.
To call yourself One seems no different to me than
to call yourself I.

Apart from the fact that to say, "One is hungry for flesh." There could be zombies through the miscommunication.
Rather than to say "I am hungry for flesh." You are a cannibal.


I and Ego
have roles each in their own,
but I do not believe it's egotistical to say I
when describing how you feel, no feeling lasts forever,
for feelings change just as the I changes.

To open your mind, ("your": anyone who believes that I and Ego are one)
to the idea that it's not how one describes themselves or their feelings
but perhaps how one acts off of those thoughts or feelings
and chooses to live their lives and how they treat those around them,
as well as themselves.

Ego, to me, is a behavior,
deeply rooted within your shadow,
which is cast by your soul.

Then again, such as people create their own religions,
I tend to create my own definitions for words that already have them.

noiseless surprises.
I was laughing by myself
right in front of you.

how have I become so alone?

slip tip drip
you make me feel
wrong for being sweet
like I'm too much
and not enough
at the same time.

“I’m trying to change.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m trying to change.”
“Keep saying it.”
“I’m trying to change. I’m trying to change. I’m trying to-”
“NO. YOU’RE. NOT.”

I wanted the colors back,
so I stole them from the one person
I swore I'd never look at again.

I wanted the feeling back,
so I shared my body with the one person
I swore to never touch again.

The lack of sleep was worth it,
but sitting in the sun alone for an hour
made me rethink my position in life.

I'd like to say I'm not embarrassed,
and that I'm not in love,
but honesty is important,
even if lying has gotten me this far.

There's a lot of regrets hidden in the stars,
but you can't expect the moon to be as bright as the sun.

The moon's not hot like the sun,
it's cold,
as cold as winter skin.

At least we made each other happy,
if only for a little while.

I feel you trying
so much harder than I do
and it makes me smile

we both need something
in between these parts of us
so that we can fit

power in numbers
our eyes reach a conclusion:
one plus one is one

friends sing so sweetly
and I fall in love with the serenade.
it's m
i     s  
l    e   a  
ding
if you act before you think
and then spend all your time thinking about which move to make next.

I think progress starts at two points:
the beginning and the ending.
everything and nothing.

One thing to make me feel something
and another to destroy me.

I've given up on trying to be friendly
and gone straight for that same bitter harsh of honesty
that
got
me
in so much trouble before
that I forgot existed
because I let myself slip
rather than pushing out
what I knew wasn't good for me.

wanting to please everyone.
loving the pleasure in pain,
got lost in it, got distracted,
became detached in the same direction more than once
and became less than I should
                  more than I should.

it's a swallowing of seeds without chewing.
with all this stimulation brewing
around the stitching of my pocket,
crooked lines, a few things slipped out.

marbles in the kitchen, in the bathroom,
on the floor. you carried me up
and down stairs.
cried
when
I
loved
you
and
screamed
when
I
stopped.

But you didn't stop ramming
jamming
jerking
thinking
sneezing
wheezing
leaving
thoughts
behind.

Hel­ping remove your mind
I tried to look inside.
Your ego ****** you into
a black hole of questioning.
Left me answering
that there was nothing left of me.
Found myself in the absence
of bored and forgetful silence.

The ending
is the beginning
for me.

right now
it's all finally happening
right now
the moment's been festering

I've finally finished and I'm free.

step up and sink in
my mind is a riddle
swollen with thinkin'
surprised at what you made me feel
I thought it was impossible.

is there something so wrong with me
that one mentioning your closeness
and I'll get up and run to you?
even if I'm sure I'd break more?

you words are strings
and mirrors, I don't want to be so caught
in your tangles. don't tell me what to do.

We're humans being humans,
together.
Inspiration from your kiss,
it's leaking from your lips.

Distant eye contact with a woman ******* on a lollipop,
staring at identical twins sharing an umbrella,
punch your legs until you fall asleep.

This life is losing its charm:
dying is the best idea you've ever had.

Ignoring your silence as I scream
you fade into nothing, you're my adolescent dream.

Burying a body to it's neck
you paint the face and
sprinkle dirt on the remains of the rotting life.

Darkness,
or something more?

fifty bricks to the head
cheese grater to the teeth
****** gums and cheeks
crossed arms and a pile of dried out pens
scalp scratched into nothing
a dry desire and an empty mouth full of empty words.

A suicide note scribbled in a composition book
it used to be your journal
but the pain of writing got old
and you needed the time to sleep.

Names dissolve from importance to nothing.

Reflecting from the shadows and burnt out veins
I still believe in those painted remains.

disconnected
hot, tired
restless
sick of waiting

reconnecting
warm, tired
overwhelmed
still wanting to test this

swarming under the sun
we take turns
finding breaks
through the buzz

stuck together
seeking flowers
with skin soft as silk,
milk made of nectar

stretch out my arms
look back at my life:
mistake "I'm sorry"
scared "I don't love you"
death "yes please"
life "**** me now"

it's just a
phase. phase. phase. phase.

always:     the same.
                  changing.
a                   mess.

best friends become enemies when they know too much about you.

you're making me crazy without doing anything.
I wish you weren't. I wish we learnt
                                                         "how to learn?"
how to love how to breathe how to think
"it doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter"

it should come naturally.
                                        it does come naturally.
stopthinkingyou'renotthinkingnowI'mthinking
but it's all about you. it's not about you.

forget the past like you'd commit suicide
                                                         ­       like you really meant it.
forgive the past like you'd be here tomorrow
                                                        ­        like you really meant it.
my face in front of your face
screaming everything I want to scream
without saying a thing.
my face looking forward
my voice shaking toward
                                           you.
I'mnotokayI'mnotokayI'mnotokay
"I forgive you" I'mnotokay
slam my head into the wall
"I forgive you" I'm not okay
rip my hair out
"I forgive you!" I'm not okay
                "you need therapy" I'm not okay
"you're not okay"

the room got heavy when I told you exactly how I felt about you.
I'm so glad I was alone. I'm so glad I'm alone.
"I feel so lonely"
                           "I can't take this"
the next morning: "[things you said that I won't repeat]"
"Are we friends?" TRUTH: ATTACKATTACKATTACKATTACK.

attack me again: it's my fault because I asked for it.
                           I still do.
too much fun. toomuchfun. STOP.
I'm bored.

boredom. consumption of boredom. consumption.

I will be recording human interaction
with an open mind and a type writer.
First,
         I'll write it down in pen
         like we used to when we were kids
and didn't have our own computer (yet),
         or using your mothers to play video games
when you were supposed to be doing your homework.
         somehow achieving straight A's just in time for
                                                                                        christmas:
                                                                                         I watched you
shoot yourself in the foot
with talking to me                                                         (under black lights)
with the same: some-don't-understand-me look on your face,
with eyes that scream  
(just like all the others)     "Pity me."                              
                                           "Forget about me."
                                                   "Just hold me one more time
so I can remember what true love feels like."

on another note: is it wrong that I daydream about us robbing banks together?

I fell asleep,
dreaming of your blood shot eyes
I woke up,
to an earthquake of emotion
I gave in,
to the fragile smile of a timid boy
I gave up,
to the words that held me down
I went to,
a place with people
I left,
and sang about their hats
their dreams
and then,
I danced their ambitions
I fell asleep,
to the song of your splattered eyes
I woke up,
to the reality that they never belonged to me.

chugging old coffee
while counting pills on a ***** carpet.

wanting nothing more than
to get to know you better.

she's choking in the background.
I drowned her.

echoes in the toilet.
sounds painful.
If she had a heart, she'd have puked it out by now.

I would give her mine for dinner if I could stay alive long enough to see if her eyes would say anything as she ate.

down the pipes:
dinner. lunch. breakfast.
expired milk.
stolen pills.
something fattening.

"has she been sleeping all day again?"
"yep."
"can I have some of those?"
"yep."
"can I go smoke with you?"
"yep."

torture is peace
when your future will wait
for you to ripen from the core out.

alright, your skin hangs,
your lips lift, your eyes speak
and you stutter.
I am fallen.
I hang from an arm that learned how to reach
and I'm going to try and focus on the free fall
rather than the few seconds before I hit the ground.
you sound out feelings,
almost embarrassing to watch the pictures they create.

a light shown through in the darkness
and was burned into my memory,
useful if I wanted to see further.
blinding at first sight.

revolving!
rotating in my thoughts
if you fall over the edge, I can't catch you
but I'll let you share the ledge where I so delicately hang.

I need to get drunk if I'm going to say anything beautiful.
You've proved that on multiple occasions,
the only problem is that I've never been drunk,
and you've never bothered to pay attention to what I had to say.

I wish we had walked together more,
and that we drank lemonade and ran through the sprinklers,
instead of dreaming about being somewhere else.

I remember how wonderful you looked with your hair wet,
and your smile shining whiter than my skin against the summer sky.

I can still hear the sound of your heart beating,
and your breath against my neck as you hugged me
and against my ear as you tried to whisper.

It seems like everything I say is about me,
and it's all just a bunch of memories that are about you,
almost as if without you time had to stop.

trying to avoid the rain on a sunny day
but there's a comfort in this tragedy.
my closet has a bag of ******* the size of a child's body.

You're still wearing all black and it's hard to see you in the dark:
I smash my face against the window to try and see you closer.

It's useless.
I know,
I know.

Our laughter is the closet we'll ever be
and we're both funny people
but panic consumes even in light.

If I can stay longer then what's the point in leaving?

The forest is frightening
because of all the birds
that live in the trees.


It's useless.
I don't want to,
I don't need to.

Stop calling me the real one.
I'm nothing but a pile of bones covered in slowly rotting skin,
some painted and some that's out of my reach.

Those birds are going to get me
and when they do,
I swear you'll find nothing but cotton and dirt.

and now that its flying away, we see its wings, and all the beauty we missed before.
magic bulbs flash new ideas, abandonment, isolation, you sit in the corner, had no sleep for days, you're afraid to shut your eyes, afraid to lose it, but now you've forgotten your original thought, perplexed with that beauty, caught in their eyes. fix your gaze on something much too bright, now wait, and it will pass, the world stopped spinning as soon as you began. give up, give out, sit down, relax.

I'm sick of the smiles in our photographs,
because I'm not happy,
and I don't understand how I ever could be.

When we drove to your funeral,
we had to pull over so that I could puke
and cry,
it got all over my dress and we had to go back home
so that I could change.

I went into my room and stripped naked,
then I started screaming and throwing things,
I broke the mirror, and ripped everything off the walls,
I threw the sheets and the covers all onto the floor.
I ripped all the clothes of their hangers,
pushed everything off the open surfaces,
threw everything I could find at the windows,
wanting to prove to myself that something could break more than a heart.

I hate myself,
but mostly I hate myself for loving you,
for letting myself forget the world and get lost in you.

I hate myself,
for not asking you when I had the chance,
or telling you,
or even caring enough to show it.

I'm sorry that I can't think straight,
and that I never will,
and that you'll never understand me the way that I understood you.

*** makes me hungry
love makes me tired
don't drive a car?
hard to get hired
got a few small jobs
don't think I'll be fired
moving hard and fast
coffee's got me wired
*** makes me hungry
love makes me tired
he had heavy kisses
fiery big hands
quick and fragile
stimulation bound
a starved hound
who likes to pound
deeper and deeper
wants me screaming
*** makes me hungry
love makes me tired

it's okay if we don't know what time it is,
she's got that whole look together
like it were a saturday afternoon and
she has the whole world at her feet stones.

******.

she like's her mother but she doesn't
know her father, she's hated her brother
but she hasn't met the rest of them, not
to mention her sister.

she doesn't like to write about herself
it's like she's looking through water.

her knuckles are read with kool-aid
and she can feel where she needs to be felt.
when did that part of the body begin to exist?

(what kind of man does it take to resist?)

she's written letters that will never be sent.

"hand delivered is the way to go,"

another drag
from the holder of a cigarette,
about 11-inches from
her covered face,

"because then you can watch them
read it."

a smile spread
and wrinkles saw what they were.

religion smashing fingers
you are
the single piece of toast
I ate for breakfast this morning.

emotional substance spread over me
and silence poured me another drink.
down we go, and I go down.

confusion constellation contemplation
trying to connect the dots between seeing you
and not wanting to see you, but not wanting to be
alone.

are you having fun yet?

you've peaked
and my interest is fleeting
pop
the helium balloon explodes
and my voice loses volume.
impact upon giving time
wasting time thinking
that this place is too quiet
for my thoughts to process
and translate them the way
I want to.
bathing and waiting
building my own gates
to make sure I'll remember how I got in
and how to get back out.

Ten years from now I don't know where I'll be,
I hope my tongue has stopped bleeding by then,
and that the letters I sent are in a box somewhere.

Hopefully I wont be in the same town,
and that I'll be way happier than I am now,
maybe I'll still be talking to you,
or maybe I'll have moved on.

The floors will be a different color,
same goes for my hair.
I'll probably have fallen in and out of love,
or maybe I'll still be in love,
just in a different way.

My arms will be stronger, and so will my legs,
I bet you I'll eat way more meat,
or just give it up all together.
My pens will have sparkles and be all kinds of colors,
something much more exciting than the black I always use.

Ten years from now I don't know where I'll be.
My tongue's already healing,
and I wonder if food will taste the same.

dead to me
dead to you.
I know you like the inside of my socks,
you know me like the wrinkles in your skin.

"do you mind if I bleed for a little while?"

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck
dance when you told me you were sorry.

"I'm going to try and take you home."

news papers:
you were late again.
the cat was late
the milk was warm
I was asleep.
you put lotion on your hands
you made me sweat.

the day after you told my secrets
your eyelashes fell out.
hearts can only pump so much blood:
mine wont waste it's time speeding for you.

"I've never told anyone that before."
    "It's not special any more."
"what's special?"       "does it matter?"
             "did it ever matter?"
"It was nice to see you today."
        "I have to go."         "one more cup?"
"that's two."     "that's three."  
"hold this cigarette."   "no."    "you don't have to smoke it."
    "neither do you."   another: "can I join?"

inside: warmth.
            my friends.
                                              outside: the smell of anxiety.
                                                                ­  last nights rain.

"I'm glad we decided to come."
                                                    "I'm glad we decided to leave."
        "agreed."

The mild interest has burnt out
you're on the floor, blacked out
too high to lift a finger
you lie there with no regret
feeling the waves
and sinking into the couch.

relaxation, calmness, peace.

Breathing life into yourself
you let it out and pass it along
you see their faces
stare into their eyes
and get lost in the moment.

wonder, amusement, curiosity.

Tap your fingers with anticipation
your body sways side to side
foot tapping to the beat of the rain
fiddle with the light switch
and pace to the door.

excitement, hope, anxiety.


Touching her skin, but not really
every inch you move forward
she moves ten back
so you just sit there
and amuse the thought.

inane, joyous, free.

Tape the memories to the wall
paint a picture that shows it raw
give them their story
adding your own tunes
and then live your own life.

taken, full, complete.

she was the smell of gasoline and bubblegum
a sweet rancidness that filled my lungs
made me choke, on her
the aroma of Then
lingering even Now
more time passes
memories slow-burning
to ashes, in planters
new life emerges
more time passes
the Future awaits
patiently in peace
as Now blooms,
lives, dies, passes
rhythmic life
let me forget
as time passes
smell new roses
let me live in the rhythm of Now
rather than swaying against it.

Now.

I am.

popping bubbles
burning gasoline
moving forward
as time passes.

I kept talking
but I couldn't
remember her
name.
how long has it been
since I last saw her?
she's a flower,
wilting in the rain.
I'll gather
the lust for life
she often craves,
stuff them in graves
so she can hide
while she waits
for the sun.

I've heard you talk about
the way she rubs her diamonds
on your naked soul,
and the way photographs
make you nervous,
as if the frozen people
could somehow thaw.
You keep forgetting
that winter is just beginning.

We've been taking short cuts
handed out to us from the
u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e.

Don't be jealous,
they hurt:
like the rough bark
that surrounds and
protects a tree.
like a passionate
"I hate you"
passed from one
to another.
like an answering
machine instead of
a-

"Hello?"

thinking lately
"baby, bate me"
indigestion
if you grate me
no longer in the past
forget the late me
maybe you could
date me?

drama here in the mountains
breakdowns and bus stops
kids who feel entitled
parents cash in their jeans
screaming, obscenes
strange scenes
heart on my sleeve
people here say I'm too deep
as the truth creeps like snow melting
waterfalls breaking through
and I scream just as obscene
because the truth is much more difficult
and I didn't come here for an easy ride
or to build my pride
I quicken my stride
with thoughts of home
as I face the faces who scream,
"this is our mountain and we can do what we want with it!"
I disagree over quick paces
the coarseness of burnt toast
the smell of fresh brewed coffee
and I quicken my pace
quicken so I don't have to feel the weight of their egos
so that I can try and break away from my own
I feel so alone with myself
when did I forget I was here
that I'm all I need?

I miss the ones I love as I bleed
struggling to breed my own love
to move on and to move up
forgive the past and destroy the ruts

another day counting cigarette butts

performing advances
beneath my eyelids,
hoping you appear
when they open.

descriptions:

nervous butterflies
hiding in the pit
of a beautiful girl,
she's tired,
stayed up past midnight,
and she can't
go back to sleep.

"Good night"
(not until tomorrow morning)

whispers: "good morning" "good morning" "good morning"

time for toast, and showers, and directions home.

CRASHES, in the kitchen: the freeway.

because it's our house and we can do what we want to:
1. 2. 3. cups of coffee.

I write what I want to say to you:
feels boring.
feels exciting.
feels
         familiar.

Conversation boiling down to,
you,
(disappearing),
and
me
(passing out to loud noise
and bright lights).

maybe/
                I shouldn't stop caring.

but it's so much less deadly
than jumping in front of
your
bullets.

things I need to say:
it's         about the words.
       not

teeth curled over lips
'I see.'
              'I don't think now's a good time to talk.'
'The neighbors will be back in an hour.'
                                                          ­                       'It's okay.'
'We'll all be dead by then.'


this isn't us.
(the television was turned up too loud for anyone to fall asleep.
   a hangover turning on a leather couch.
    "I need my jacket to go home.")

I wonder if you moved
because you could feel
us breathing at the same
pace, or if you understood
my heartbeat.

the past:
memories.

cut:

with emotion.

I bet we could make
some money if we
learned to strip:
that all away.

Intimidation consuming me into thoughts of you
wanting the intimacy
searching for your face in my mind
in the crowds of people who don’t matter
I’m tired of these cold nights with scratchy sheets
there’s mold on the wall and a toxic gas seeping through my pores
infecting my heart and mind
I don’t want to forget your face
just scratch the thought of calling you
creating different scenarios of what could have been
I cant stop wishing you were here
that I never met you
There’s a note on the door
it doesn’t say much
keep out 
go away
don’t know
just walk away
****** knuckles in my face
I know its mine from the taste
I close my eyes and plug my ears
try to block it out with my tears
the ground is cold
my body aches
wincing as my bone breaks
screaming
searching
seeing
sighing
superstitions become reality as my face smashes through the mirror
just another seven years of bad luck I don’t need.

Your brain asks questions,
so you reply, “I haven't been around much lately.”
as soon as plans set in
                 you want to do all the things you were offered before,
                 that didn't seem particularly enchanting previously.
I've been here before though, it's a self-fulfilled prophecy
I've seen each moment before the moment I live out catches me,
with a face, baffled,
pretending it hadn't seen it coming,
                     planned it coming,
because that's the way I happen to sort things out.

It's easier to think while distracted,
I'd much rather focus on a handful of sequence
than distract myself from what's important.

consumption
play
consumption
sleep
in the moments between
I'm not sure if this is a dream or reality.
a greeting from someone I thought I'd lost
and my heart bounds forward.
you look different.

how could I forget such a face?
how could I lose it?

was mine too overlapping in anxiety to notice the kindness in yours?

time has given chances
I'm not sure how many of them were wasted in weakness.
decisions to move on, move out,
and then forward.

I love you number 8, your bug eyes,
sure bug guys,
****,
it's just so ****,
when the camera zooms in on your face,
and you've got the ball between your legs,
I know you're looking to score a goal.

Coach, you can teach me how to play,
mmmm.

You've got your pads,
like I've got mine,
but only when it's half-time,
****!
commercial.
I guess I can go ***, and eat,
but I must hurry,
cause I don't wanna miss a single move you make.

what the **** is up with spain?
using their heads to score,
as if that even feels good,
use your ******* feet!

iFUTBOOL!!

white powder mildew in my ears
whisper something I can hear
it's fear
give me something to harness
maybe fill this emptiness
it's clear
two blue eyes and a mouth full of doubt
I want to hear you shout
that you're here
Feeling broken all the time I lose myself
within the rhyme
my dear

cold winters rain
weathers game
I'm feeling insane

I'm a black dove
you're a green-leaf newt
I'm not sure what to do

green leafed crystals canopy
over me like
a cave
surrounded by a miracle
working but never
a slave
no dreams could dare to stand against
such a sweet
magnificence.

in the wind
they bowed
as I danced
in and out,  through & through
small white plastic
cubes
inescapable t a n g l e s
reach up and under while
imagining

all the
                        a
                            n
     ­                            g
                              l
                         e
                    s

talk me up. talk me up. talk me up.
enter my exit
say yes turn
back around
find the next fit.
looking at me for the first time,
you're more prepared for this than I am.

you've got a heart in your palm.
I take your blade to my flesh to make sure I've still got one,
realize you've got mine and as soon as it's healed you drop it back into place.
I forgot what it was like, hearts are so heavy.
I'm a snow flake, falling onto flesh, and melting,
through my eyes, broken faucets, you turned me on,
shut me out, won't turn me off.

passion's forgetful in a whirlwind.
wrap me up in a cocoon, keep me numb.
I see you've been breaking glasses,
cutting off the tips of your fingers,
you make me nervous. beginnings make me nervous.

you let me explore your mountain
and I found caves that were brighter
than daylight so I left them to you,
it wasn't my place to stay.

you're a dark shark with soft teeth
shaved cheeks and smooth grease.

I'm an open eyed shadow looking
for sparks to dance in. If I could learn
to balance my darkness in the light
then my moves would be seen clearly
and I could catch my mistakes before I
leave my pieces on the board in places
where I'd so obviously lose them.
there's nothing left for me to do but keep playing.
although I make puddles, I'll laugh
to soak them up. it's refreshing
this feeling,
it's a wound but it's healing.
you put something into a pocket
because you want to keep it close
and see it again.
you put something in a hole
because you want to lose it
or it's dead.

I gave you permission to eat my remains
so clean off my plate, wipe off my face.
the younger you are the stronger the hunger
for flesh for adventure for change.
constant,
constant,
change.
perhaps I should have cut you when I had the chance.
then we'd both be healing at the same time.

She's the kind of girl who
locks the bathroom door
in her own house
when she showers.

I would pray to whichever God
that could make me the water
that runs down her neck,
and every other part of her,
down to the drain.

I know.
I'm alive .
when I see.
your blue eyes.

and don't care.