Puddle of blood on the floor
I'm sure it's the perfect size for you to splash and play in
Sorry for the mess;
I just hope you remembered to bring galoshes

I find it kind of funny
that you told her how nice I was
(I use past tense; I am no longer decent)
And how different I was from the others
(I am no longer different from the others)
and she told you not to ruin me

I find it kind of funny
when you told me this story
I laughed like it was some kind of a joke

She knew all along
(Such a wise woman)
That I would get destroyed
(I am no longer different from the others)
I'm just like all the other stories of your past
I burn you with cigarettes
(You used to tell her how nice I was)
I'm demolished.

What a funny joke.

I haven't eaten in two days

I think it has something to do with
feeling as fragile as your translucent body
(It's as frigid as one of these ten thousand lakes in December
and makes my heart spasm as I walk through you)

You walk on tears
like they're made of kitchen floor tiles

You're not Jesus
You can't pull that **** off

You're the protagonist
of a story that makes you out to be hero
by filling the bed in my heart with onyx secondhand exhaust
(it still smells like you)
for my own good
Hoping my life is meaningless
forcing me to hate you and hate myself
for my own good

You're not Edward Cullen
You can't pull that **** off

I hope you still feel almighty and hot
when you realize how honest I was.

In the end all I see is hate
and self-loathing
and kitchen tiles stained with tear streaks

Everybody is psychotic
in this unbalanced neon creation
some would call the universe

And nobody gives a **** about you


Especially you.

He came over over to my house
Soaked up toxins like a sponge
A drunken drive that took an hour
I love him
for coming back to me.
Muffled "Darling" in the morning through
a mouth full of slanderous deception
He brushed my hand
He held it in mine
I stroked his back and traced his shoulder blades
We behaved like the lovers we are
and misbehaved like the children we are
and it was summer rain
and he told me he liked
just lying next to me
and being in the same room
I love him (whatever the **** that means)

A millisecond later
He told me he has someone else
He told me he hopes I **** myself
"I hope you **** yourself"
"I hope you **** yourself"
"I hope you **** yourself"
"I hope you **** yourself"
Maybe I will
but it won't be because of him
He doesn't deserve the satisfaction
of being the reason
why I hope I **** myself

*"A little encouragement for the morning. I have a feeling you'll need it. [He] has stolen enough of your life and energy. This is the time when you become strong and take charge. No more will you suffer emotional damage spewed from him. You're bigger, and stronger than that, even if you don't know it. You are done. Forever. No more. He's gone; erased. You are free."

I can recite this speech in a different way
but it won't change what I have to say
I'll just be saying it in a foreign language
(But there's still that slight hope you find my accent attractive)

I take this blanket of time and pull it over my head
I wrap it around my body
to hold hostage vulnerability
Right now it doesn't help much
because this storm is too ferocious
and this sheet is too thin to contain anything pathological
But as I wait for this thunder to be over
I hope it won't go under without me
So as I pull this blanket of time over my head
and close my eyes and rock and roll
I sing songs and write poems inside my skull
to drown out the noises of cold
With every note and every line
I listen to the noises cry, until I hear them suffer and die
and I know my cries will suffer and die
So as this blanket rests upon my crown
I feel a chilly breeze breathe through its holes
and know the worst is dead
So as I open my eyes, still raining dyes
I squint at the world that has me curled
I stare up at the sky, craning my neck
I watch the clouds leak onto where my eyes leaked
and tears and raindrops leak together
Because I am one with the world
And as we share our pain
I know we share the sun too

This is a poem about nothing at all
and no one in particular

It's simply about my mistakes
that are an array of paints in front of me
Assorted by Roy G. Biv's rules of regulation
If I try to remove an acrylic faux pas
they won't be in order and nothing will make sense

So I guess all I can do is paint a self-portrait
using all of my colorful blunders
and attempt to make it beautiful

But I know I'm much too modern
and much too childish
for closed-minded critics to appreciate.

Only real eyes
can make you realize
what lies beneath
real lies

There's something about
the shift of saccharine eyes
in my mind
that give me false hope
to go along with my
humdrum voice.

You can fill your case
with arguments and validity,
and get your knees *****
as you cry a maudlin plea

but in the end
none of that matters
because nobody has a heart
unless they're compensated for it.

The difference between
love and hate
is about the same as
the difference between
hard and soft kisses.

"You kiss like the world is ending."

Embracing the sound
of my new found
maniacal sobbing laughter

I hope that next year
you talk to your girl
about last years girl
and how crazy she was
and you make her feel so special
by telling her she's better
than last years girl,
like you told me
about last time's girl
and how crazy she was
and how you made me feel so special
by telling me I'm better
than last time's girl,
like how you probably told last time's girl
about how crazy last season's girl was
and you made her feel special
by telling her she's better
than last season's girl.

My mind is a filter
draining away the venom
that's hidden in your mailbox
buried in history
and the holocene stones that I took
from the pit of my stomach

I bought a blushing dress
and some blossoming shorts
that I'll do a salsa solo in
exposing my skin
and getting freckles
that trail across my face
getting freckles
that you'll never know I get in the summertime.

One was when we were together after the good days ended
It was in my kitchen
We were both just lingering in Alonedom
and then all of a sudden my head was on his shoulder
and I don't know how we got there
but we stayed there
and it wasn't one of those still embraces
we were moving together in place.

The other was another time
that I cannot mention
without trembling.

Nostalgic of the days of
embarrassed faces buried in pillows

Love is but a ticklish curiosity,
Let it faintly flurry away

My passion
was always to be passionate.

My dream
was to always have dreams.

Now I'm a failure.

Everyone is against lying
     but they whisper faded fibs to
          everyone they know, about
          everyone they know, and
          everyone they they used to know, and
          everyone they wish they didn't know
which is why lying is a cooperative act

I'm a liar,
but you should believe me when I promise
that I still won't tell the secrets that you told me in the dark
when you flaunted your character
You were stunning when
you licked my envelope lips and sealed them tight
     but I'll still chatter with my fingertips.
          (You know their babble better than anyone else)
And although you fastened my voice behind the doorway of my mouth
I still lie with my face
     because a smile is in the eyes
and you're lying when you look at my stagnant eyes
     and pepper your story with details
It makes me sick when I look at your words and see
     the duping delight of a monster that kidnapped my razzledazzle dreams
And with the growl of a monster
     you nod your head up and down while
     you repeat the word "no" with an O of the same mouth
          that with the curl and pull of an Elvis lip
               and the scrunch of a nose in disgust
turns your kindling anger to contempt as you go around flailing deception

This puts me in an uncomfortable mode
     of knowing that I was so full of hope that I threw it all up
          onto the trembling ground beneath my feet
Motion sickness brings me to my knees
     and unsettles the emotion sickness inside of me

***** LIES

And I watch these nauseating emotions in the puddle at my feet.

Truth be told,
I lied to you all along

Truth be told,
I'm crossing my fingers behind my back

Pain is the loudest voice in the room
It obliterates the survivors
and wakes the dead.

If only I could believe
in anything rather than
everything.

Maybe then I wouldn't always
trust the taste of your
cherry pepper
voice.

Stuck in a ceaseless circle
in an incessant cycle

All I want is a corner to curl up in.

With the sky so crystal
and the sun so giddy,
there is little reason for
this woebegone pace
in this abandoned place.

sometimes...
i just wish.
i could be.
in a place.
with all white walls.
and all white tile floors.
                                                          alone.
and have big huge paint buckets.
with lots of colours.
and i could create my own world.
and live in it.
                                                          alone.
without a care.

You think you deserve that pain but you don't*

and yet I still turn the dial
in the shower
to make the water
burn my skin

My mom tells people how I was as a child.

She tell stories about how I used
to love looking at my reflection;
In mirrors
In windows
In glossy table tops

I find that really funny now.

I'm doing a little better now
...My mind is in a different place most of the time now
I don't write poems for him anymore now
but I lie to myself a lot more now
Because I still pretend he's holding my hand sometimes
and remember the old times when these times seemed years away.

My skin tingles...
because my heart races
when it hears you say
I don't care to know how much you care

It tingles
when my heart races in an attempt to stay quiet

Everything tingles
when it's forced to stay quiet
because you refuse to hear its beats

Time spent together
was but a hiccup

a short gasp
that made me momentarily breathless.

Once upon a time there was a girl that couldn’t tell stories.
One night, she wanted to tell someone a story
Because it was dark and she longed to sleep
And she never seemed to be able to sleep
Even though she had heard so much *******
About counting sheep and drinking hot cocoa
She knew none of it worked
And it was no use being hopeful
But little children always asked to have bedtime stories read to them
And she guessed it helped
Because children sleep and they dream and they imagine
…she wished she could imagine

So she tried to tell a story
Because there was no one to tell her one
But because there was no one to tell her a story
There was no one to hear her story
She was lonely
So lonely that she didn’t even want to talk to herself anymore
(Something she did with frequency)
Even she wanted to leave herself alone
She was irritated by her shadow
And this was why she wanted to tell stories
So she could forget about the loneliness
And sleep

But when she tried to think about something; about anything
She found it hard to imagine
Because her dreams weren’t images anymore
Only feelings
So she decided to tell a story to nobody
About how she felt
Rather than what she couldn’t imagine
And couldn’t create

It was about what she hates
And how uncomfortable she is

So… she fixated her eyes at a spot on the wall
That would listen to her intently
She took a breath
And said:

“Once upon a time…
…
…
…
I hate. I’m uncomfortable.”

Breath mints in my glove compartment

Remembering why I bought them

I never needed them

Pointless insecurities

I wish I was still insecure

I had a dream
that we were standing on opposite ends of the block
and waving at each other.

There were smiles
and nobody was hurting.

Stay silent

Even your whisper
makes my ears
leak.

You're
the part of the moon
that keeps the city
flipping switches
to see in the darkness

Sometimes I stand outside
and crane my neck at the sky
because you're only a sliver

I stare in awe
I shiver.

Happiness is no protagonist

I'm a villain

I'm a liar

and apathy is a hero

Read me like the book
for English class
you never annotated.

Enjoy the story,
don't analyze me.

I'm just a piece of gum
that is ****** dry of flavor
and stuck on the bottom of your shoe.

But it's not my fault
you didn't watch your step
when you put your foot down.

Wear sunglasses; covers your eyes.
Take a shower; gives you an excuse to have wet eyes.
Smoke a lot of ****; gives you an excuse to have red eyes.
Tell people you're sick; gives you an excuse to have the sniffles.
Tell people a loved one died; gives you an excuse that's accepted by society.
Don't come out of your room; covers your eyes.
Watch a sad movie; gives you another excuse to cry

Be lonely; won't need an excuse to cry.

I now understand
why my windshield wipers
scream in the rain.

Lonely like a bad habit

Lonely is a bad habit.

Scrolling through conversations
of hearts and capital letters,
looking for the first signs of trouble.

But I hear whispers louder than warning sirens.

Legs crossed
Slouchy socks
Pulsing foot
Waiting for nothing
With a stomach full of money.

I have the mouth of a whale
so come crawl inside.

I'll eat you up;
wrap your body in my skin
like a tuxedo on New Years Eve
Wear my bow as your tie
and inhale my blood like wine

Dance Freely

Control my mind
and leave some of your mind in mine

When you crawl back out
and walk away, drenched wet in my spit,
you'll leave my skin in the pile of ***** laundry
on your bedroom floor.

Love me to pieces
and put me back together

I'll love you to dust
and vacuum you up

My soul is a vacant lot
filled with weeds,
lacking fragrance and vibrance.

It's not weighty
nor worthy
of your attention
or affection

It's roots grow out of appreciation
for the few weeds you pulled, leaving spaces
for some new seeds to be planted

Maybe someday this will all look more like fertilizer
and less like ****

My fickle dreams
are constantly interrupted
by bothersome hyenas

I used to believe
that if I wore socks to bed
that they would cut off the circulation to feet
while I slept,
and I would have to amputate my feet off
when I woke up.

I still take my socks off before I go to sleep
because childhood fears make sense
in the darkness.