Cat.

Milk.

Where were you at 4 o'clock?

I'd rather not do anything today.
leave my plans to figure themselves out
let them forget about me, no more missing.
I'd like to excuse myself from today's torturous repetition.

It's all my fault, admittance of solitude!
what happened to the practice of things I care about?
my cares have shifted, hearts been lifted, yet there's something
still missing: Motivation.

ahhhh, no more worries.
ahh, why should I?

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'll try and keep myself warm,
Because sometimes we need to be alone,
No matter how much we don't want to be.

I want to break your arms off
I want to see the pain in your eyes
every time I look at you
I wonder what you're thinking
the pen in your hand never seemed so slow
the blood in your veins never seemed so dark
the matches are wet and useless,
like
you
are.
Now that we've gone so far away
(from home)
I need to tell you about the scars,
The ones on my wrists, the blood on my fists,
it's what you've asked for, it's what you needed.
You wanted me dead, you wanted me gone,
but now you see me every day,
and now you give me all your pay.
You are my mother, you are my son,
you are my love, the only one,
for
me.
The lessons you learned, were,
useless.
The things that you loved, were,
lies.
Even now I want to puke,
the burn is here,
the fear has gone,
did I mention,
you're the only,
one
for
me?
The arrows on the streets are fake,
the maps have blown out the window,
into the night,
following the wind,
oh so cold,
the air.
Your skin has gone red, but now that I'm dead,
I cannot,
kiss
it.
What a shame, to be soaked with shame,
oh that blame, oh so tame, oh so lame.
It's time now,
to get your bruises,
whacked.
We're going to hurt you, make you wish,
say awful things, do awful things,
oh the pity, in the back,
of their heads.
It's seeping through their hearts,
oh the attack,
the silent attack,
of pain.
Don't you dare cry, it will only make it worse,
your ribs will be cracked,
oh so cracked.
They will rip you to pieces,
they will burn you alive,
rip out your hair,
until,
you, have none.
Don't you wish now, that you had stayed,
that you had listened, when I said,
"I'll rip you apart,
I'll ruin your life,
I'll steal your soul,
I'll make you feel,
real,
pain.
If you make me sob,
I will make you sob,
(so much more).
So I would think twice,
please,
take my advice.
Before,
you ruin,
your life."

would you take me with you?
before the snow comes
and my schedule freezes
because college will be over
and my days will start to mold
again like they always were
when drunk kisses at the
bar were better than a
lovers because passion
was always absent
can't help but wonder, why is that?
the past is gone and nowhere
near good or rather closer
to evil and shedding
layers like seasons
breaking even into
new embraces that leave
traces in aches in the places
where skin was on skin was on
skin just get in and begin to make
the future look positive when imagining
your blue eyes trapping my insides
twisting and wishing that you'd only
twist more gather into me gather
my hair into your fists oh how
I wish that this mist wouldn't
clear for a year maybe two
what to do? I am blue
and you are green or white
perhaps dark or perhaps light
I really can't be quite sure
you're a blur
dashing
my hearts a plane
crashing into the side of your mountain
mesh with my molding
don't stop holding me
folding me into position
I like a man with a mission
maybe it's the wrong lake that I'm fishing
because there are plenty of fish in the sea
those fish are too big and not as tasty
to fry, tough guy, big guy, just
say hi and stay high with me
one two three don't **** with me
I just want to sing melodies
keep living my fantasies
walking together with
you through the night
grabbing hands it's
alright and I just
might not let go
so quickly this
time because
the warmth that I'm feeling
is that of a heathen and
your advances are chances
at passionate romances
you're a magician
I'm an enchantress

Seething is soothing lately
To feel without words
To shake out the energy
That does me no good
Abundance where I am stood
Serving up a good mood
Less attitude exudes
As my ego subdues
I miss your presence
Long to bathe in your essence
Reminisce on the lessons
And forgive all transgressions
Pedal with me baby
Through the familiar
And the unknown
Tell me about your dreams, daily
Show me what you're made of shady
Midas
Leave me in the middle
Molten after brittle
Glowing more than just a little
Watch me sink within the middle
Watch me morph inside your riddles
Love me splendid as you slumber
Our dreams blended with each other
Mending heartache
This lasts forever
Never reaching for each other
Why bother?
Oh bother!
I wish this dreaming would last forever

I'm tired of saying, it's almost beautiful
The streets are cold at night, even though it's summer
And when I look you in the eyes, it's like their painted on your face.
I can never tell, which direction, they choose to fall.
Sweet kisses, those were the times.
I cut off my hair when I heard you were sick,
I figured you would need something to look at.
It's like I found a dream, except I'm not asleep.
Some intentions are too concentrated,
they'll dissolve if you get too close.
We're growing, too fast, in different directions.
Remember that night?
I was so nervous that I ripped apart her favorite book,
I wanted you to forget her,
all of her.

I wake to push the sunrise back,
peeling my face from dreams
reality beams as my passage.
light storms through the peace,
questions arise, flooding in.
mourning commences routinely
as we find ourselves in the rapids.

white rocks, rocks that look as if they might explode.
rocks of your eyes, as they change color.
trees as your arms, with mountains for scars.

raw skies that break
and bellow
as they laugh with us.

leaving minds, we sift with fevered hesitation.
gently crippling for a quick ****, the catch
was almost effortless as my mouth became
a staircase. as I watched everything I wanted
ascend with my assistance, I realized no more
of it was for me and there was no more I could take.
No more that I could want.

desires chants no longer engulfing this fragile figure,
transparency threaded through the thick and soon
this figure became no longer lace, no longer tender.
this figure molds, meshes with the recess atmosphere
and dissipates into structures too bold for distinction.

functioning in beats of
rhythmic movements

5am is the best time for
f   r   a g    
               m   e    n  
                           t e   d
                              m   o    m  
                                    e   n  
                                              t        s
before              I                       rush
                                                            into life
to learn and be learned
maybe even                      teach myself
                watch me as I    
touch myself

I want to serenade you in my marinade
until you're good and hot
but this fever dream you're lost in
has everything I don't want
I tell you that I miss you
but it seems that you've forgot
the distance between us doesn't matter
when it's true love that we've got

you tell me that you're broken
and then you leave me bruised
I know your pain is important
yet you need to understand that
it is no excuse

to get lost in feelings is something
that I know too well
I'm here to remind you that you're stronger
than your demons spell
in you turmoil I will not faulter
and you must do the same
I will always be here for you
in your vulnerability there is no shame

I've been around the block and back
and seen these men play their tricks
children in their minds
only thinking with their *****
I am full of power,
strength you've yet to see
so when you say you love me,
it's not easy to believe

Trust is not a given
it's earned as well as shared
little things you do can build
or simply leave me teared
so if you want to hold me
and keep me in your heart
then don't go sneaking playing games
or you'll break what we have apart

when all we have are words
to express the ways in which we feel
the silence can be deafening
when I know you're not being real

All I have is what I am
and what I give to myself
I will share with you each part of me
until I've given my whole self
but with words you leave unspoken
I feel I fall apart
tattered are my pieces
yet still a work of art
be careful of the things you hide
beneath my translucent heart
I can see straight through the *******
and I will have no part!

I'd like for you to be different.
It's easy to imagine,
but you're the farthest thing from simple.

I stare at my hands like an overweight, under estimated teen would look at their legs,
waiting from them to shrink.

You're filling in the empty spots, so that I don't have to.

I glare at the stars as if I could time travel one thousand years into the future, and enjoy the darkness that comes after explosions.

You're the color, bursting rays of light from your lips to my neck, where my skin absorbs all the words you never knew how to say.

I bite my lips like they won't bleed, even though I know they will, remembering teeth are beautiful, but they're sharp.

You're waisting your time trying to forget about me.

I talk too much about myself, but I don't care, because who doesn't?

preferences denied by searching too much.
you're a production of neglect,
describing situations exactly as they are: no empathy.
saving sympathy for emotional descriptions:
you've got a lot on your plate and you don't like to waste
but you're breaking this whirlwind you so hastily chase.
just give me a break.
let this armor fall from my limbs
a barrier trimmed
from this eclipse of the mind
I find myself fading behind
because honesty of the self is harbored in boxes,
it's easy to get lost inside the caves of forgotten
when you're moving so often in the shadow-side.

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.

I never knew of love this strong,
it's healthy glow illuminating happiness.
Proving to me that I was pessimistic for too long,
and that pessimist point-of-view sort of liked it when I cried.

a slave
he says
so brave
then he ends
with a thrash of his teeth
saying, "just ask me please!"

is it a crime for me to want these things
that cannot be seen?

words are liquid
slowly drying on
each page and yet
I cannot write a thing

Hello? Poetry?
Where are you?
Last time I checked
you were inside of me.
Last time I turned around
you were my shadow, still
basking in the light.
Above me and below me,
the only one who knew me.
It seems we've lost touch.
Looking back it's still a familiar feeling.
Again, here I am.
Wondering where you are.
Wondering if I ever really had you
or if it was just you who had me,
without holding, just bursting out.
I can't forget you, won't regret you
or the time left over since I knew I
would see you. Face to face. I know
now that it was just another phase.
No time should be erased. Simply
move on, it's not a race, it's not  a
crime to try different things. Just
now, I knew, the moving through
only gets you beyond. Avoiding
the judgment that so arrogantly
plays, forward, we're pushing
forward to a new place. Hello,
poetry?
Hello!
We're getting close.

I read his poetry like Bukowski
religiously
I spent time drinking and *******

in protest to the aching inside of me
raking through old poems was easier
than writing new ones about the life
I was throwing away, because the
heartbreak was nothing but a wedge
drivingmeclosertothemistakesand
even further from the                       writing

I read his poems like I drink coffee
every morning
that I'm not feeling sick to my stomach
and I choke him down to spit him out
no longer masked or guarded
sparing courtesies
because the mysteries
weren't as mystical
as all the fantasies
used to be saying
it's good to look
and it's a privilege to touch

these lips ache in your absence
yet I haven't learned enough

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.

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.

And she wore
black eyes in her pockets
and when she cried
her jeans went red.
my baby speaks with the
tip of her tongue on the
back of her teeth.
and every time I hear her speak
her beauty
makes me weak
and I'm down on my knees.

I want the respect that I don't give,
and I want you to notice how blue my eyes are,
and how red my lips are.
I can offer you my hands,
they're exactly as soft as you want them to be.
You can look down my throat,
or bite my finger nails,
anything you want.

I want you to stop talking to me forever,
so that I can think about you all the time,
and I want you to watch me
as if you knew what I meant when I said goodbye.

It always gets to the point where my face is hot
and I can feel it seep into my ears,
and my heart is beating so fast that I'm afraid it'll get tired and stop,
then I'll just be dead.

God's not a dancer,
he doesn't have any feet, or a body,
not to mention a spine.
How could you dance without a spine?

I want you to ask me questions that I can't answer,
and prove to me how much better you are,
or maybe if you stood there and smiled at me long enough,
I'd realize how  tired you really are.

If I stop talking, that means I'm better,
and if I keep talking, that means I'm worse.
I hope you don't understand any of this,
because that would make me a liar,
and I'm sick of being a light that you stare at,
and I'm sick of that chair that you sit in.
but mostly,
I hate the smell of the theater,
and I always wonder why the floors are so sticky,
not that I care, I just have an overactive imagination.

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.

Everything’s become so tasteless as I realize
My whole life’s been wasted
I want to fold upon myself
Put my pieces on a shelf.
All my worries spill and scatter,
Just in time for my heart to shatter.
I feel on my finger tips what my eyes will never taste
The throbbing in my head moves to the traces of our last embrace.
I know that some day  I will die,
But until then my life is a helpless sigh.

wet fingers
touch my face
all nervous and
unbalanced.

perception
rips out of my throat
so fast that it's sore when morning breaks.
I feel the rising and almost shake
it's time for another eighteen hour day.

red teeth creep into my thoughts
and the bottle in the cabinet begins to knock:
here I am, baby, drink me if you can.
if you've got the time, try not to lose your motivation.
plans can't cure this hesitation.
perspiration from more than just nervousness, what's this?
it's the eyeballs teaching you a lesson,
it's the heartbeat just wanting to leave a mess in
what you thought you could contain
in the muddied cave you call a brain,
it's the endless pits of despair you so often hear tales of.
thinking, "Oh, you silly people, pet the belly of the beast
and you'll be free."

kissing the *** of an evil spirit will leave you with less progress
than if you washed the feet of an angel with your tears.  

insides burning with lust for flesh, for a cool comfort
you can bury yourself in. if your expectations grace you with
their absence and your mind feels free enough to explore,
then share your thoughts with me this evening,
I'll give you my heart as an open door.

We're romantics,
pretty gossipers.

We try as hard as we can to escape the world with pens,
and we soak page after page,
imagining the ink to be our tears.

We're depressed,
lost travelers.

The words; each hand picked to portray something only we can understand.
Our desperate search for empathy is sickening,
and yet it continues.

We're sweet,
helpless lovers.

We fall in love with every person we see with a symmetrical (enough) face.
Picking up habits that we've read in books,
or saw in an old film.

Why are we poets?

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."

*** 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

I said hello like I thought you'd notice (you didn't)
and for once I didn't feel like repeating myself.
*******, you helped me notice all the things I hated,
all the things I loved.
Kept me wanting change.
Detoxification of thought,
purification of the soul.

You speak in sentences that are based on creative-product output,
it seems you don't care if you make sense or not, 'cause nothing in
this world is trying to fit to you.
So, why try and fit to it?
Or at least that's what I perceive you to think.
I guess we could think better of each other in a healing space
if we're all touching each other with good intentions.

Yet it seems these fingers that reach you can't heal in the way they intend,
'cause this nervousness is stemming from the inappropriate feelings that root themselves
from my core. **** love, **** this feeling.

I want a love that doesn't make me wrong in someone else's eyes,
much less my own.  **** this feeling.

*******, you are beautiful.
You are something else,
someone that would smile at the thought that
this is about you.
*******, I can't stop saying the same things.

Keep me close, I've crept out of my hole
and I can't stand it alone.
I haven't even touched my water colors.

Too afraid to poison you with the truth,
too afraid to taint what is beautiful.

**** this feeling.
I want to.
**** this feeling.

tired of fighting
glass words
leave me shattered

kisses and touches
that I once thought mattered
rebuild me
with your broken wings
let me curl your feathers
so when you leave
you're in circles
still thinking of me

blinking
squinting
lost in the ride
afraid of what's ahead
a suicidal girl
who already feels like she is dead
eating bread
staying home alone
letting the music play
and the TV drone

**** instead of *** today
******* the thoughts away
legs have never been an open gate
although she doesn't make you wait

you're special
shut up
get inside
eat a home cooked meal
and ******* love yourself

*******
love
yourself

they were close,
closer than ever.
she stared at the side of his face, afraid to make eye contact,
his flawless skin made her nervous, she stood there in silence,
praying that he would move those few inches closer.

his smile was part of his appeal to her,
the way he tossed his head back with laughter at her jokes,
even when they weren't funny.
The way he looked at her when she spoke,
not to mention those muscular hands that she would watch
as he would strum his guitar, or those blue jeans that hugged the perfect parts just right.

As the silence grew deeper,
she stared into his piercing green eyes
as he licked his lips,
answering her prayers,
he moved in for the kiss.

I sit here and listen
to hearts unfold
as the two men before me
explain stories untold…

Chords in their palms
hearts singing their songs.
The pain of the past, the future,
and all that is left
is the mystery
of what might be here.

I hear them playing
no tip toeing around
as they reverberate sound.

love binding two souls.

Who could have known
that without experience,
resounds dissonasse?

Misunderstanding in the time that has passed.

Who said that it only takes a moment
to forget
and remove the past?

Humans,
or strange creatures?

Our friends are our preachers!

Sharing what is inside
no pride
just feelings we express,
because it is too hard to let them fester.

Experiencing this weather
inside this house.
Pounding and beating
water we felt retreating
year after year
we felt dry inside
and outside
all together.

Another day to reject neglect
and stand beside those who we wish to protect.
Projecting a sound that can last a life time.

Forgetting all reason
giving in
to the rhyme.

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.

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."

I get into those deep places
we're entering digestion
the inside skin station
where everything comes together
to admire each other in the most unconditional of ways.

people talk about people as if they aren't some kind of thing
animals can be things, passions can be things, kisses can be things,
even moments can be things,
If I had to measure the distance between you and me
there would be not one thing in the way,
but me.

You see, I've been trying really hard lately to forget you.
It's like you've got me walked with window skin so everyone can see inside, and my eyes are rockets,
exploding,
screaming,
telling everyone who can't read,
anyone who doesn't have the time,
someone writing in a diary with blue ink,
that even though we go by different names,
you and I are more similar,
than the same anything.

So if you thought I was going to talk about that
deep dark mask I hide behind, then leave
because the too soon has come and gone too far,
you came here expecting something,
and I tell you to go out of mercy from the overflow,
because this is me standing here naked
in a mask of who I really am, which really is no mask at all.

This is no show for sad folks who want to feel anothers broken heart,
this is a spilling of one to another, through the small crowd intimacy
we sometimes long for and are suddenly surrounded, because it's so much easier to say it's about someone else and to never use their name.

If in my eyes were your eyes
and yours mine,
then nothing would change but for the directions in which we look.

I want you to think of me when you've just woken up from a bad dream
and you're staring out the window wondering where you went wrong.
I want you to be able to tell the difference between moonlight and snow,
or that if you rub them together the right way you'll disappear.
We practiced drawing lines (failed attempts at being artists)
but there were too many crooked ones that didn't make any sense,
and we crossed the wrong ones, and got too close to the others,
the picture got so distorted that we appeared crazy.

That keeps happening.

I tried to escape myself to find myself but instead I became more complicated and more sick, than ever.
It made me see how much stronger  brain waves are than ocean waves,
that they can drag you deeper inside yourself than a broken heart,
and they can hurt you more than a broken bone.
If you don't know where you are or who you are, how are you supposed to know what will help you?
How are you supposed to know how to love?
You can't.
I've found that it's harder to live in your shadow than in your soul,
that you can't find yourself in the stars, or in the bathroom, or in some one else's eyes.
People wont love you if you blind them.
Chaos isn't comforting.
I keep turning them away.

This keeps happening.

you listen to the music that I am now and you are here and feel like I do.
we were kissing and loving and sharing our beauty.
you are the fire that burns my lips, my tongue.
I stare into those eyes that morphed my thoughts and sent me to that beautiful escape we like to call home.
I feel your paralyzing touch and sink into our boundless love.

this soft silence has me feeling
that there isn't enough to go around.
you're rose petals on black tile,
             indulgence at it's finest.
a dimple twitch, a train to which
station?
motivation,
obligation,
                  regurgitation.
I've been left out, cut out, burnt out.
take my feathers
make arrows
slice through my skin
make wine.
kiss my wounds, attack my goodness,
give me bruises, I'm fine!

I'm lifted
you're gifted
got me
on the edge of
both sides
of your line
shove my face
smash my face
trash my cash and mash
mash mash, until there's bleeding.
-I haven't made it there... yet.

trying to decide what to do with my time
waiting for the wash, dreading the dirt that clings
to clean cheeks and it's only been a few weeks
but I'm burning in madness.

to entertain you would be golden
my brain is swollen with stepping
and it makes me want to be alone.

negative exports, I'm an expert at drowning
with one foot placed firmly on the ground,
the other in my mouth.

shying away from the white on the walls
so full of screws and tacs and faces
run your hand across it
accept the lack of life
animate your dreams with reality
fill yourself with good news

I don't want your love unless you know that I'm impulsive

I wasn't happy about it
but i congratulated you anyway
I wanted you to know that I cared about you
that was the only way I knew how
then I hid it all away with the expressions on my face
which was pointless because you could hear it in the taste

I don't want your love unless you know that I'm repulsive

rotten
I am lost in thought
a better version of myself
fallen in the cotton
bought in to the game
the books in the flame
now only the memory remains.

I see you shifting in your seat,
getting comfortable?
I see you sounding out my name,
getting uneasy?
I'll sit across from you some day
and stop apologize for breaking.

I know there's more than enough material
and the sewing kit's been drawn out, so I'll
stop all of this repeating and return to ink,
no more cheating.

It's wrong when it's right, it's like numbers
held too tight, squeezing fractions of my might
when I love too much, I bite.

vegetarian by day,
carnivorous by night.

all the apples see me bleeding
with the ink between my teeth,
ask me which one I want to drop
and before answering, shake the tree
my strength is unknown and the branches they break
like a knot in a spine, or getting cut up
                                                                ­  and left behind.
I said I tried
and I tried,
not to cry
or to fake it.
I got lost in the crowd
got too loud,
then lost sound,
lost and found, not all was lost,
but the cost still hurt and struck
me down, like lightning in the eye,
he hadn't seen me die,
turn around
I'm still alive.

words:
a poets kiss

water:
to wet your
                     tongue
throat                    
               lips

tell me this:

which set of words
arranged in which way
would send me in the direction
of your heart, hands, head, just ahead?

which tone of voice...

soothes you into sleep
to awaken the greatest dreams?

or shakes you into daybreak
to my face, smiling, you inside?

which tone would I need
to hone enough of a melody that will keep you near?

and which would I need to move you closer
so that you would be right here?

What could I hear
in the deep
dark marks
of your scars?

What could I learn
as we drink
walking
talking
playing
in bars?

What more would spill
from you, if, instead of
ingesting toxins...
we just keep talking //
instead in daylight
through forests
up mountains
down river
up stream
I bet you'd beam!

I say it all as if I know you, but I honestly don't know a thing.

words: a poets kiss

I can't believe after all this time
nothing has changed
the bed sinks the same way
my head knocks to the clocks
tick tock tick.. tock...
left, bent, and waiting
what's right?
my throws send tidal waves
my voice breaks bridges that lead across pathways
to my house, to my heart, to the ringing that's got
me singing, "food, food! glorious food!"
and asking, "so I'll see you at the show tonight?"
it's okay if you're afraid of these feelings
it's okay if you're shy of this light, 'cause I'm beaming
I've got a second chance to start believing
that maybe I'm here for a purpose
and not all these words are worthless.

it's strange how easily one can convince themselves
to do anything, especially things they'd rather not.

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!!

brown born and alive again
the dirt hums as nature shifts
tectonic lifts and cease pulling
everything within me tips
as my head nods to his musings

feelings bubbling up
can life stop being confusing
the terror in our meeting
as your eyes capture my soul
the taste of lemon in my mouth
too many seeds to plant
so I spit them out
and watch them fly
as far as they can go
expanding horizions daily
who knows how big they'll grow
I'll lay back and lay out
put my heart on display
but not hand it out

poppies growing in the cracks
that create when we meet
face to face, then back up
taking distance
reminiscing on the missing
that's caused by all that is missing
as you light the spark within my heart
reviving the passion I thought was unlisted
but now it's here and it's knocking, annoyingly persistent
if you get my jist and find that list, could you pen me in?

clear the page and clean the sheets
turn the clock and blow the roof down
tell me it's now without words

The ache for meat from a starved vegetarian
and the life flooding from a dead mans eye sockets.
Images that blind you and burn you,
like an itch under your finger nail,
out of reach, deep beneath what hurts to break.
I'll give you the benefit that I always loved you and I'll pray out loud,
even if my teeth are clenched,
tongue bleeding,
barely breathing through the pain.

A million words wouldn't cure this silence.

This silence is dead,
cold,
rotting,
and yet it stares
with a contradicting smile
and it breathes, continuing to ****,
soaking deeper like memories do.

Understanding the nature of your actions,
                                                          reactions,
                                                          emotions.
You're my paper man.
Your strings are slowly breaking.
One day they'll be gone, and where will you be?
You don't believe in anything.
You're an agnostic piece of literature
that's collecting dust in some old building
where there aren't any people, and if there were,
they wouldn't understand your language,
or your face.
They would fear your hands,
and your eyes,
and your finger.
The finger that pulls the trigger,
that cuts the strings,
their strings, and your own.

There's this certain emptiness that comes with death at ones own hand.

I forgot the true meaning of acceptance


and what's worse,
is that after I decided how ironic
and sad it was,


I wondered how difficult it must be
for all my friends to stay by my side.