Inside, we're fighting.
Outside, we're searching.

It's the moments when you treated me like a child,
that I c0uldn't stand to look at you.
It hurt every part of me,
and you loved it.
I could tell because of the way you smiled afterward,
and the way you would breathe.

You knew I was afraid of spiders,
but you seemed to mimic them perfectly with your hands,
and you knew that I hated it when you lied,
but you did it all the time.

I remember when you started getting up earlier,
it was as if you knew what I was thinking,
and you had to leave before I could ruin anything.

I guess I always had a way with words,
and hands,
and not to mention breaking things.
Sorry again, about the dishes,
I know you loved them.
Probably more than you loved me,
or maybe even your fish.

is ju,st an exc:us:e
to a"voi"d using
punct. u.at!on
cor. rect.
ly

;)

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.

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).

the awkward moment when we made eye contact
I laughed and coughed up my milk all over you.
the embarrassment hurt worse than the choke,
but it was sweet because you smiled at your drenched shirt,
"I was just about to transform and rip this to pieces anyway,
I'm glad it was put to use."

blackberry blackout.
                                   there's only room for two
                                   inside the better half of what's left.
break downs on blacktops.
                       she held together what she saw falling apart
                       taking pity on the fool.
bringing blades to dinner parties.
       search the medicine cabinets: they're rich.
we're not supposed to be listening
or hearing
or wearing
                  all these secrets in the open
stop
pointing out the stains on my shirt: they don't mean a thing.

As time goes by I will only love you more
and more
(this is a water-based reflection: touch it with both hands, and feet.
  hell, stick your head under and feel yourself sink).
As time goes by
I will only miss you more
            
and more.
       shares: of silly strings
of silly things like... losing your marbles!
right before the most important moment of your (teenage) life.

shape me like you did yourself
                 teach me to read before breakfast
it's your morning, it's your moment
reach for it (you don't have to).

it's easy to get caught in a moment:
so *******.

my ears are burning.

reaching out
pulling back
the withdrawal is another opening
a hole
a pocket
what's the difference?

a million openings
falling through
your time
frame
and
to my
pleasure
or luck
of goodness
I find you beside me.

I hurt my knuckles for you
but never can mean sometimes
if you're like me, and you like me.

If I was chocolate moose that **** butterflies for a living,
and sold them on the streets of San Fransisco,
so that I could sleep in your bed after the disco,
would you stay up all night and tell me your secrets?
or would you fall asleep?


I've sold myself clean,
in the most ***** of ways,
giving out hand hugs,
and those glances, that you know are really sensual,
but it's a secret,
because you want it so desperately
(we both do).

Be happy,
because you know that moments are moments and that sooner or later,
you'll be living in a moment,
and that moment,
will be ***.

shared pain is
building up with you.
can't find a way back down,
don't want to.
there was a chance
and he blew it, too easy, baby.
not enough resonance for me.
something simple,
but still crazy.

"it's easier
if you understand it. "

keep track of your pulses,
a healthy mistake: don't blame me.
I just want to lay in bed with you all day.
don't want to ask to be touched, don't want to
think about it.
some lustful friendship hanging from frail wings.
he's tired all the time, how could he say such things?
i'm lonesome, but i'm nice. i know my place, i'll share it with you.
if you just gave up self-fulfilled torture then you'd see your desperation
is mislead by such a heavy head, best not avoid the issues that clog you up.
tell yourself you're beautiful,
you're better than breaking,
you've got the heart and the spirit,
the mind that could shine straight through your eyes
to send love a million paces in each direction,
attracting all you desire.

not always what you long for is what you need,
or what will truly make you happy.
some passion soaks in shadows,
guide yourself and you'll find what you're looking for,
or rather, what you're looking for will find you.

a never ending summer
left a foul taste in my mouth
a stench on my clothes
and far too many take backs,
ten-dollar scratchers, and lessons on
how to properly **** yourself.

maybe the word
                            no
could have dropped out of my mouth
instead of my lips closing down
left to drown in my broken shell.
I felt so pale, no gold inside, just a joke
just a plague.
there's no mistake
I'm gonna bake
this summer come
but won't be numb,
will no longer crumble at the sight
no longer hide away my eyes, maybe
find myself at night with a friend
I hold too tight. I stay up late,
can't help but write.

all my thoughts, they're here for the taking.
staircase downward falling
against walls, she crawls,
feels like something forgotten,
keeps on running, unburies thoughts,
she hides no more, she's here for the taking.
sometimes poetry's repeating all the beating
we try to hide, but it's also gathering the feelings
that we often take for granted,
mistake that our lovers are ourselves
that their shame and crime is intertwined
with the person you have come to find
when you look in the mirror
or the eyes of another,
when you speak to your mother
or to a friend whose lost some other
part of themselves they see in you
so they talk and act on through
try not to hurt or shame, it's a humble game
experience doesn't always have to be defeating
when we can't help ourselves from greeting
all the travelers from their homelands,
looking for deeper meaning.

words can be whatever you make them
it's an expression of thought, communication
is one of the most incredible attributes to being human.
a voice is a projection of your breathing mixed with feeling.
next time I'll try to say more of what matters
and less of what I don't care is best.
this life is a lesson, there's no way to fail,
it's not a test.

color slips from photographs
and collects in a single file line
that leads through your door frame
and into the kitchen, where
the smell of us kisses your cheeks warm.

it's not the physical communication that's wrong
it's not the knowing parts, it's the missing pieces,
or the things we succeed to keep out:
like cold air, and feelings.

at least for now.

"you're lucky."

I have no idea what I'm doing.

"no one knows."

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.

It looked better in your head,
it sounded better, too.
You were out of breath and restless,
but that didn't stop you from making a fool out of yourself.
The shooting stars, the baseball field,
everything was perfect for closure.

When you got home and cleaned yourself off in the candle light,
you couldn't help but stare,
the people looked so scared,
you could feel it in their gaze,
it was like they were burning it into you,
almost as if they knew you could understand.
It made no sense
because you were alone,
and you went to the doctors,
and you got the medication.
You hadn't seen them in years
but they somehow broke through that strong wall of chemicals,
and here they were,
staring back at you like nothing had ever happened.

You sunk to the floor,
wrapping your arms around your head
trying to block the images,
they were hungry and you knew that they always would be,
it made you sick,
it made you shrink.

The faces you make when you create,
looks like pain, silk burning,
holding in what will **** you,
(anyone can-             fill you),
but sometimes it's better to fill yourself
when you're ready to explode.

Everyone goes alone, but you're smiling about it,
and I'm smiling too, and holding onto memories,
letting go of explanations and descriptions, all read
brick and brown brick tipping over in the wind.
Snow storms calling on your birthday, lets sit in warm puddles
and eat pie.

Did you see her cry? I think I've made a breakthrough
with my speech. Speaking clearly: it's so nice to see you.
Almost nice to see people I don't like
because I've stopped giving a ****.

I didn't see her cry, but she was eaten first.

Felt myself at the pinnacle of what rage
used to be. We call it making love,
but I feel like you're just waiting to die.

Can't keep you happy for long,
just entertaining myself while you wallow,
it's hard to swallow, because I can't seem to turn you on.

I'm useless.

I've dug this up from the gravel of my being,
felt this sediment,
scraped through all the layers
to find small scattered bones.
owl puke.
that's my softness,
that's childhood
               and
           a reason for wanting to destroy it.

enough fire wood
enough energy
then
too much energy
                                and
the lights go out.

a contribution of what you learned that day fed to you at the dinner table.

coffee eyes dreamed about good mornings,
sugar kisses his lips, his eyes,
his cheeks
stomach,
legs,
papered skin layered in dreams.

dreams of
                   gold shedding from the sky,
words painted beneath the flesh,
              eyes shut to see what's inside.

how are you going to see what's outside if your eyes are always shut?

intriguing, yes.
fleeting, yes.
waving hello like a helium balloon taped to a mail box.
flap
     flap
smack!

"Share your body, spread your love."

stumbling while leaning against a wall
your eyes are wider than when we kissed
and it felt worse than saying goodbye,
more than anything
wanting to forget how good it feels
to hold each other
                                                           you push me away.

kiss me, I whine.
your tongue tastes like peppermint slime
oozing words that avoid the intended conclusions of your premises
broken promises   [unspoken, I'm choking].

I'll **** you out before breakfast.

I'm a baby, much older, much younger.
I'll cry myself to sleep.

I'm in love with a balloon
who's always confused
we blew him up with our mouths
so he just rolls around the floor
I used to think we were good friends
but when I left he stayed
I tried to keep in contact
but he never had anything to say
I knew the weeks would pass
and he would slowly decay
but I still can't help but miss him
Francios was his name

I told you:
she died to the sound of *** in the room with her
to the sight of nothing but a glowing screen
conscious through the mist
hollow bones screeching as they grind
pulling at each others laughs
can't see anything at all but the fear
slicing through the distance with the suspense of open water
illogical maps traveling through your mind
like a field of naked boys, dancing and singing,
going on rides, sending out signals,
I want to say more things that end that way
suspending in air with a mustache
your large bones are experienced
tripping into the silence
back to the point of:
I don't care.

Listening to library tapes
in the moist of my breath
and the dry of my lips,
which are cracked
and peeled,
like oranges,
(chocolate ones).

I missed you today,
and every other day,
but I can't get over
the way time passes
and the way I want it:
to stop.

I've stolen words
from every part of you,
and I've hidden them too.

I wish: that you spoke softer
because I can't speak
any louder than this
and it's really hard
to try and find an answer in a kiss
and: it doesn't matter what time it is
you wont get your wish.


even though they can feel the darkness of a thousand years
my friends still believe in shooting stars//

and if you want to read this
then maybe you should close your eyes
or think about what we've talked about
or drink more coffee with less sugar
and walk so that you don't have to pay for rides
because that money could be spent on a ticket out of here.

Face to face with a plum,
and it's not beautiful enough for me.
my red juice drenched lips laugh at the fact,
that no one can feel exactly what I feel.
And to realize the fact that it's our souls,
(and not our heads)
that make us love,
(that make us anything)
is the most human I've ever felt.

Now I'll tell you a secret,
you really can do anything,
as long as you want it enough.
Seriously,
if something doesn't start to eat away at you
from lack, or longing,
then it doesn't matter.
It's nothing.

I can't help but lust for your skin,
or think about how amazing it would be to carry on a conversation with our hands,
or help but want to lick your teeth
and feel your bones.

I guess the bugs would scare me,
and the smell would make me gag,
but your rotting face would still be beautiful to me.
Sometime's I dream about you all alone,
in the dark, with no one to freeze with you.

It's okay that I didn't get to scratch my nose,
I probably would've ended up tearing through the skin anyway.
You know I've never liked blood.
Too many dead animals on the road,
too many dead things flooding my life.
It makes me wish I were dead.

Isn't it hilarious how easy it is to change your mind?
Isn't it hilarious how easy it is to die?
Isn't it?

The good things we feel
make up for all the bad ones.
The pleasure from hugging you goodbye
made up for the feeling of loss.
Your return
will heal the feeling of abandonment.

Our voices will seem different,
because we've changed so much
from the inside out.

I'm sure everyone would want me
to say hello,
they just don't know what I'm doing.

I'm pretty sure writing is a form
of talking to yourself.

Someone spilled a bunch of drinks,
everything is wet.
(I was the only one who noticed).

There are a bunch of dodgy glances
flooding the cafe,
I'm pretty sure it's always like this,
it's just more apparent
because of the current explosion of people.

Being surrounded
is just like being forced
to do something.

I'm not sure what I mean by that though,
so don't bring it up,
ever.

Sometimes we touch each other accidentally,
then it's awkward.
Next time,
I'll say I did it on purpose,
(or be more careful).

I'm realizing how beautiful you are
without even looking at you.

If I was looking, I know our eyes
would be even,
perfectly distanced
so that no one could hear all the
whispers we share:
through what we see
and what we wish we could
forget.

I know you rearranged your
furniture, and asked for my advice
about the things you know I like
to talk about, and that you gave
me the room I needed so that I could
descend through my sadness like a
bucket of oil spilled over gravel

but there's always a something
and with me there's too much change.

I've let myself slip in and out of the rocks
and I've settled in a shape like stars and
kittens.

Darling, you're not my teacher
or my mother, you're just a woman
with a son and short hair with asthetically
pleasing walls that are good for looking at
with crying eyes.

I'll steal books and rip pages out for you
if you let me. There's only so much I can
say with this body and it's never the same.
If you're looking for a constant, I suggest
you stay away from liquid.

things that are the same here:
glass and silence
nails and chalk
comfort and ***
smoke and color.

how do you feel about the women called mother,
and the children that call to her and grab at her legs?
her legs: so smooth that their hands slide down them in the summer.
her hands: cold and soft and everything you need when you're crying.

I love you, darling, and I want to hold your hands all the time,
both of them, and please press your forehead against
mine because my third eye can feel your trying to see inside
but we need to break through the skin that hides them away.
I want to teach you how to share dreams so that we don't have to
set alarms any more, or drink caffeine anymore, even if it is tea instead
of coffee. or if your favorite is the same as his and it only bothers me
because I want to stop thinking about how warm, or thick, his fur is.
I can lose my hands

inside                                                           ­        the outside
                                                         ­   
of his beautiful mass.

He can knock down trees with a whistle,
or a flick of his tail, and he can make phone calls
with one long stretch and a yawn.

I've been talking to my therapist
he wants me to write up a list
of all things that bring
the adult and child out of me

Although it seems that I can't bring
any side or part of me
that makes me seem less broken
so on the words I keep on choking

a flow of rain the sunshine brings
the thinking, screaming, sadness
trickling
my best friend’s dead
and all I want
is to see his face again

sing on the floor
just once more
out of tune
honeybeeeee
again

I miss my friend
thought we would sing 'till the end

instead

I take care of my mother
try to help her
she won't change

again

I miss my best friend
honeybee
oh honeybeeeeeee

instead

I stopped drinking
gave my time to overthinking
working all day
trying to sleep off the pain
at night

I try
to move past and forward
learn a new song
but I can't help but wonder

where would I be if I could just move forward
faster faster faster
I guess I should slow down
move to a town? nope not gonna happen
I fasten
into my own life
try not to strive for more than I can follow

after
I'm faster
to let myself slow down

I miss my bestfriend
but my feet still touch the ground

I've found
I wont let myself drowned
this time
this time I wont hide

'cause the moments I have
don't have time for pride
deep inside
I find
that if I move faster
then I'll run out of time

Everyone knows you can make eye contact with glass as long as the lines are dark enough.
Lines. Not cracks.
You know the kind of lines that you only stare at because they're actually the scars on the side of a ******* addicts ***.
She talks about how thin she is
and looks down at her naked body
right where my eyes had been lingering throughout our conversation.
the fast paced dribble
seemed to only drain her more
and I couldn't help but listen.

We had the same color hair

She's the only one that caught my eye that night,
she was entertaining
and beautiful
and rotting
in the two feet of distance that kept us from touching.

You could tell by the way she opened the refrigerator door
that she doesn't like to eat,
and the shaking in her hands made you want to ask if she was okay.

Love:

the way the wind opens loose doors
a response whispered from eye to eye
my bleeding finger tips in your mouth
water: earth: fire: air: soaked in poison,
and completely fine.

I shouldn't have to think this hard to say how I feel,
but now that I know that you listen to what I say
I hide and stare at ceilings to avoid confrontation
because even though your back feels good,
I'd like to keep my pockets safe.

you're moonlight at 3am
and clouds inside on a rainy day.
you're a staircase in space
leading nowhere.

I'd rather be a stack of spoons than a pile of forks and knives.

If darkness is absolute,
then I will hold you forever.

My heart is beating so fast
that it's hard to tell how long it's been,
since the taste of our kiss
began to eat away at my lips.

My elbows are bruised
from leaning across the table,
trying to get a better look at you.

I love you, but you're filthy,
and I'd rather have you dead than crazy.

I want to feel you tremble beneath my skin,
and I want you to hum me a lullaby.

My phone broke
and my voice cracked,
there's no hope left for me.

We will listen, and cry together,
because we’re full of hesitation.
and you’re my inspiration.

a romantic without love
is a pile of empty letters
strung together into hesitant conversation.

I see you now in memories:
you and I, half-asleep,
avoiding eye contact,
over coffee
and cigarettes.

here's the truth:
the parts I imagine
and the one's that I want to feel:
(all I want to do is feed you peaches
and tell you how beautiful you are).

I love you.
                    Say it more:  You're amazing.

"Look at all the pages you're using."

"You can cry if you need to."

approaching the end of slavery:
these moments are defining.

Therapy: and the way you explain things.
(you're different)
   ("PROVE IT!").

there are too many people coming in and out of these rooms.


empty spaces?

I'm here to fill you up.

            (if you let me)
(if you want me)

I love the idea of being with you.

another dark adventure
with magic in my stare,
wearing all black and
beginning to prepare.

yesterdays socks, he talks
                                in knocks
like winds breaking boxes
                                       the ones we locked ourselves into
debates. locked debating
                            contemplating:
which move to make next?
can you answer me, or be a cancer beam?
or are you listening and losing steam?
burning mass before me, the brightness in your eyes...
I had never been so mesmerized.
I can't forget the feeling of the
winters snowflakes,
the wake and bakes,
the give and takes
the honesties...
which turned out to be fakes.

it's perfect timing to arise:

I can forgive the things
that cut my strings
because like hair
my heart's in springs.
restlessness thoughtfulness,
but the ways you are true
send me blue and undo
the pain from the casting,
cloudlessly and cruelly,
again and forever may stem
from the light in your eyes,
blooming sunflowers in
orchards of the greenest grass
you'll ever find.
so unwind, and relax,
calm down the feverish sight,
dim your eyes before repeating
such devilish lies.

Stagnant.
Screaming in wet clothes
from the sprinklers in the ground
to the water that sprays on the windows
while you spray inside of them and create
what you'd destroy if you knew it existed.

With a laugh like Santa Claus I keep each day same as Christmas,
**** your blessings and your gifts,
I'll keep them in the same closet I kept myself.

Most of the good stuff is gone
but some of it stayed. Laughing for
one more day, tearing at the facts.
Too much all at once, I'm slower because
I know her. She's much too beautiful.

Empty and overflowing
all this patience is unknowing.

only a year
yet you disappear
face fading in my mind
no longer clear
all that's left
is your
reflection

silver, molten
spilling forward
out and down from
your crown to the ground
liquid lover there's no other
linger no longer filthy foe
don't care how you are
don't want to know
pillaging liar
I'm out of
fire  
     passion
                  grief
sympathy

simply entropy

I'm feeling like I might kiss you
but I know you like to sleep
and it's hard to untie your hands
when the kid who did it knows how to double knot
and he likes to hide behind your back
or press his against yours.

We only talk to each other so that we're not alone,
and we only listen so that we wont be again.

I see clearly what you hide from.
give me danger give me comfort
give me something to hold onto when your words lose meaning
                                                   and when you don't want to call
or when the ground glows yellow in the late evening sun.
"stop kissing your cousin"
"stop pretending like you know how to exist"
                                                          ­            I'm smiling.
you're probably watching television.

barely a hand dipped into conversation and you're already questioning our friendship.
I know you like I know beauty, and smoke, entering your mouth from mine, reaching out like arms:
we held each other in older ways than we knew how.
                                                                ­                    (it came naturally).

I've passed good morning good afternoon and good evening
to meet you in the space between midnight
to meet you inside light                                to meet you for the first time as jesus
to try and forgive you for things I don't know about.

(I'd cut off your fingers if you asked me to, I'd cut out the jokes,
and I'd cut off my eyelashes,  I'd cut off  all my hair and
glue it to your face, your face) bursting out:
                                                            ­            Your Face.
it's the same as when we held hands in your fathers car
and when you pressed your lips on mine while you thought I was asleep
whispering: "I love you" as you backed away.
move closer. move away. move down the street. move out of state.

the coffee stand made me say "let's be friends"
and we were.
we were. we were. we were.


let's just say
(that)
                     I still owe people money.

keeping together through poetry
not running, but walking, home
the Fall is not so much as a leap
as a gentle floating from Summer
the Heat searing shut wounds
from the bitter chill of
Winter's thrusts,
broken trusts,
tucked guts,
now spreading out in gusts
of feeling in the wind,
the chill of Winter
returning, in tickles
down my spine, my sides,
curling, I twist, and hide.

I dont want to make this
a bigger deal

than it needs to be.

So I will just say it,

I love you.

I want to melt into the speakers
dance in the fibers of the fabric
that layers the plastic,
like a small child would with make-up
at the age of seven,
there's no such thing as too much,

Never a chance to remember,
all the time in the world to forget,
everything is perfectly fast:
in the moment.

Imagine living like that,
the sting of a bee on a young girls foot,
the screams
and the tears running down her confused face,
her eyes ask questions to the sky,
to her foot,
to the crushed remains of what caused her so much pain.

Then,
the kiss of a freshly peeled band-aid,
almost as soft as a mothers kiss,
almost as soothing as her cold hand on your forehead,
almost as sweet as the lullaby she would sing before you'd drift.

Always trying to fall asleep with your eyes open,
trying to catch every last inch of the sky,
counting the stars through the ceiling,
slowly falling asleep
without even realizing:
you're waking up.

I wonder what you taste like,
I can't help it.
It doesn't matter how many times our lips touch,
it's not the same.
In the morning when you make me coffee,
I wonder what it's like to be beneath your skin.
While you drink your cup,
and smile,
I secretly want to drink you,
but I smile back instead.

I've been reading your poetry lately,
wondering if it's about me.
I've been crying lately,
because I'm in love.
I've tied myself down with wishes,
all of them are about you.
I've done a lot of things,
all of them were for you.

When I wake up next to you,
it's better than any cigarette.
I try not to stare,
afraid you'll wake up.
So instead I stare at the ceiling,
the one I've memorized.
I hope the addiction isn't obvious,
although, that would make things easier.

It's hard to tell someone else's lover these kind of things,
it's inappropriate.

No matter how much I love you.

harmonizing with my inner self
not much food left on the shelf
but I am full, so full, I explode
bursting with self-expression
my explosions, although,
abrasive. often catch a
curious eye from the
distance and my
explosion's lux
is almost a
beauty
such
as
the
stars.

I am far
far out
and
away
not sure how long I will stay
not sure how long before I leave
all I know is that I need to believe
in myself and the consciousness I have been granted.

intelligence is not something to be feared,
rather, revered. perhaps my mind walks too fast,
gets stuck in the past, rewinds and repeats laps.
if my heart felt any different about the things I said,
then my soul might not matter, and my mind would be dead.
so rather than cry and worry about others opinions, others
clique par-say part-tea par-tay's. I shall say, HEY, I am me
and you are you, but don't put me down because of the
mistakes you make and the wrongs you do. I might
look **** when I cry, I might look **** when I cry,
I might, but it's no excuse for the abuse that all
these people seem to choose. I said it again,
and I say it again, patience is peace, and
peace is release. A lesson I still struggle
to maintain. I might look **** when
I cry, because peace is release, if I
choose to be, if I let it be. peel
back your eyes and see, I'm
a reflection of you, you're
a reflection of me.

I keep picking my scabs when I know I shouldn't,
and all that dead skin is landing in my cup of tea,
(which is too hot for me to drink anyway).

I keep second guessing myself, and saying things in a way so that I can take them back if I need to.
Sometimes I feel like I can control you,
because I know what you are,
but I guess that's just me forgetting,
or being ignorant on purpose to avoid any more pain.

I've met some new people,
I respect them so much that I've started to think in different ways.
Our conversations are the most stimulating,
(and sometimes simple),
I've ever had.
Almost every conversation I forget something in the enthusiasm,
and I will feel like there is this hole inside of me from where it was,
like it meant something, something important,
something like you.

I've found myself lost in a world of text and fake memories,
realizing that I shouldn't have showed up so late.
I heard they learned,
that even if you stop,
the world keeps going.
That you shouldn't go to bed hungry
and expect to wake up full,
cleaning isn’t productive,
feeling like you’ll come home tomorrow doesn't make it true.
That your beauty’s like a wish and it grows with each flash of your historic smile
and your teeth are the presidents
and they're falling out one by one.
The rain doesn't change you,
it just leaves you soaked and chilled.

ink taped and glued
seeping through my bulges.
I'm just not going to eat for a week.

pages ripped and burning
smoke billowing in my lungs.
I'm just not going to sleep.

taking a break
from everything

trying to break
habits

these
bees
hide
in
hives,
in
piles,
of
honey.

from one queen to another:
it's okay if you **** me.

relationship vacation

love trials // take one (year)

relationship inflation

loves cost // takes two (people)

i'm a half way hill short
of decent remarks.
definitely juvenile.
public dancers
gave me chances
to prove myself while
confidence drove me home,
and there wasn't a single complaint.

Aching,
pain seeping,
seeking,
sinking
into my soul.

Forcing me
into a nightmare
of all my mistakes.
Forcing me
to remember.
Taking away my will
to let go
and create
a better me
free
of confusion
and hurt.

I’m tired of bloodshot eyes
and tear stained cheeks.
I want to tear it down
and scribble out the past.
I want to burn it down
and start all over again.

To escape these ruins
and create some sort of paradise.
Without the whiny,
needy, hurtful people
that get in my way.

Throw away
the things I’ve done,
the words I’ve said,
and the emotions I’ve made,
the expressions I got,
the people who hated me,
pitied me,
loved me;
throw them all away.

They don’t matter anymore.

the thought of sleep after a cold bath
is just as bad as having to listen to
your family doctor diagnose your insurance:
dying as fast as your childhood memories,
and although you've got the same blood
your grandfather, half-dead, doesn't want to know your name
and he doesn't care about the wrinkles water gives you.

he's got eyes like those charming men you see on the
t-e-l-e-v-i-s-i-o-n.
what's more:                                                            ­                
he can wink and blow kisses at the same time.

two phones
two coffee cups
one long conversation about nothing
and shared laughter over the mumbles we heard
from the downstairs neighbors when we were kids.

remember?
we'd hide in bushes with flashlights,
too afraid to move, too afraid the dark would
catch up to our short-distance legs and
our too-wide-to-see eyes.

I remember:
we'd talk into unplugged microphones
and trap ourselves by climbing fences
with stacks of rocks that we could barely lift.

one time, we found a field mouse:
he died the next morning.
the funeral was alright,
none of us cried at least.

I blame the mouse for getting caught in the heater,
we gave him a house and wrote his name on the front
so he wouldn't forget, but his mother must not have
taught him how to read English.

You told me he wouldn't be able to--
"why is it a boy? why can't it be a girl?"
--it didn't take me long to realize:

you can be whatever you want
or whoever you want,
and that if I was
(as trapped as)
that mouse,
I'd probably choose the heater too;
but I wasn't,
and I had you.

nothing comes to mind any more
everything goes and moves faster
too fast to catch, an unavoidable crash
we've clashed and separated, broken
another love for another life
whether we were ever friends
is the question
even though you prayed, "friends forever"

silence discomforts the demons within you
so you hum and sing and talk about nothing
to collapse whatever comfort my angels live in
you'd rather see me withering, wilted
so much beauty in death! so much beauty...

I tap my teeth together, click
I clench my jaw, tick tick
I clench my fist, thick tricks....
lying again, you're lying again
and I cry in your presence
salt water spelling out "stop this"
I bite my lips when I wanna kiss

tortured souls with tender hearts
can't mend one if the other is falling apart