riot rhythm
vertical to vertical
we're all going up or down
there's no cross section
it gives me those jitters
where you're lurching fast forward
let's just fast forward
so we can waste time
regretting things
waiting for the dreaming hour
waiting to escape
always hunting for energy
that isn't manufactured anymore
it's when the layers are pulsing in your ears
that you remember the real life
long ago.

muscles spazzing with every
twitch of the clock
there's not enough space in the
world to occupy my heart's
beating motion.

the ambulance is going faster
when you're sinking into the earth
nothing's written in records
and Hancock never lived
nor did I.
buried in the ground is the
only positive pressure I've
ever befriended.

close to the ground
head under a table
deja vu
I wish I lived earlier
so I could feels the same
kind of emotions they did.
I think I do.

tears avalanching
onto the mountainside
below my eyes.

nothing catches my interest
or my eye
quite like a happy tune
with sad lyrics.

My body imprisons liquor
creating a shelter for it's
greatest admirer,

because the emptiness of my reasoning
cannot relate to those who were given swelling hearts,
because my heart was created to expire.

And all of the places I retire to
will not be like the night
when all the light was liquified.

This is my ode to severance
and my ode to sesame chicken,  
and my ode to walking on a frigid evening.

Like valleys in a desolate wasteland bear the skeletons of water
and the tundra is envious of the desert that's regrettably hotter,
these scars show where blood used to flow
and remember the life in a cave leaking tears down below.
My veins are an ardent irrigation system
That try to forget that I ever missed him, kissed him, and dissed him
and wish that I  had thrown a fist at him and ****** him off.
The life from my blood is putrid and lucid and trying to rid
itself of hidden embarrassment sleeping amid a bed of emotions about to burst.
Let it dampen your thirst and immerse itself in this sobbing flood.
I need a well to siphon all of my blood back into my veins
and to feel less insane and less hopefully vain,
you're the bane of my tears and the bane of my main fears.
Humanity is persisting with an impossible dream
that seems to tease me, tearing my seams and threatening the steams of my inner hot springs to bring this kingdom down into the ground remembering nothing.
Embezzling these dreams from the hopeless lovers and the luckless lovers and foolish and moronic and simple-minded lovers.
So wait with me for the monsoon of dust because I must not wait in solitude waiting for my crowded heart to spontaneously combust.
The darkness for once is a beacon, meek and a freakin' immature fawn
exulting in our fictitious devotion, crying from it's eyes
bathing in the tears crying from the skies,
and mourning through our veins and dreaming in the morning in pain.
I'm hosting a caucus for flirtation but you're the only one invited.
We're a landscape of brutal simplicity.

They'll tell that you deserve better
and that they'll treat you right,
but this only makes it hurt more
when you find out they lied.

We're danger stalkers
searching for the modest
at dawn in the garish part of this metropolis.

And my soul sprints
when everything is secure and sane,
and I want to stalk the danger again.

So I make meager attempts at blackmail,
to attempt to satisfy all the charmers like me
frozen in the frigid north.
because discipline is gobbledigook
in balmy compartments.

I have a charcoal rosette
taped to my chest.
Is it honorable?
It calmly smolders my heart
at this banquet with all my company.
I leave nonchalantly at the hazy end of the night,
-casually slip on my gloomy boots-
and build up my wails for creatures.

I love the heinous beasts
and stories of lad meets lady.

This road is forked so I walk straight

Left is only right, but opposite

and right is only wrong, but different

I am talking in circles

I am walking nonsense

I am singing television

and watching harmonies in solitude

I am walking on my hands

I am writing with my toes

I dream in a reality

and live in a fantasy

what is right in front of me

comes at me from behind

a bullet skewers my back

while a knife shoots through my chest

I paint sculptures and statues with crayola

and I build Mona Lisa with bricks and stones

I dig to the depths of Mount Everest

I climb to the top of Death Valley

I dance in stillness to silence

I sleep in motion to beats

I talk to myself

I listen to you.

I've always wondered
what it's like to have a weightless heart
Mine weighs me down to the ground
My back is always hunched
because my heart brings my chest to my knees
And the world tells me to keep my chin up
and to stand up straight
and to be a lady
But all of this is **** near impossible
with such a heavy heart
I need
a stronger back
stronger knees
better posture
and although I'm independent,
I'll admit that I could use a pair
of burly arms to help me lift my heavy heart
so I can keep my chin up
stand up straight
be a lady.

Don't touch me.
Don't tickle my mind and relive my past.
I was yours;
let's compare and contrast
the sequel to the original mask .
It's not your task to measure what I lack.
It's your nature that tells you to attack.
It's time to release the reaper from it's leash.
No coincidences; only consequences.

Knowledge and emotions
don't go hand-in-hand

And there's a fine line
between being considerate and selfish

And things never make sense
and I've begun to think that
people shouldn't walk hand-in-hand either.

Happiness is no protagonist

I'm a villain

I'm a liar

and apathy is a hero

You only realize
you need company
when you're alone.

I'm independent.

I've never been independent.

Leave me alone.

I'm lonely.

Dear Sir,

I'm really sorry. For everything. I'm sorry for not talking to you anymore. That was really immature of me. I'm sorry for not taking your dreams into account, and for being selfish. I'm sorry for making everything about this non-existant relationship all about me and not about you. But then again... it's always about you. Everything. It always has been since the day we met and I turned you down and played foolish hard-to-get. But I wasn't playing. I just really am not easy to get. If you should feel proud of anything, it should be the fact that you had me. And I was always yours to grab, in any sense of the word. I'm just really sorry that you had to be the one to get me. I'm sure it was easy, because I'm not easy.

I'm sorry. For everything,
Love Ma'am

Dear Ma'am,

You shouldn't be sorry. Nothing was your fault. If anybody should be sorry, it should be me. I'm sorry for leaving. And I'm sorry that I did that to you. When you say you're hard-to-get, you really aren't kidding. I had to ******* bear my soul just to get you to look me in the eyes. I never regret being the one for you. In fact, I don't ever regret anything I do, because it's a waste of time. But if I was to ever regret anything, it would be making you feel sad all the time. I'm a selfish human being and I know that, but that doesn't mean that you weren't important to me. I would never want to ruin our friendship. I just didn't have a choice. Sorry.

-Sir

Dear Sir,

I feel really bad and stupid when I say that, because it reminds me of that cheesy movie, "Dear John", and you are the farthest thing from cheesy, and I feel like our life and our story means so much more than that. I don't really have anything else to say to you. I just know that I don't want us to not be friends anymore, because you are my best friend. But I also can't talk to you without thinking about you in ways I shouldn't. When I think about you in those ways it just makes me really sad and I know that I won't be able to move on if I think about you in those ways. I don't want to die alone. But without you I'm so alone. I don't know what to do.

Love Ma'am

Ma'am,

Tell me what to do and I'll do it.

-Sir

Stay silent

Even your whisper
makes my ears
leak.

I have tamed him,
and though we advance
at different paces,
we learn from the places
we both have been
in the different places
of our life.
We are tamed to see
both sides of a knife,
and he has tamed me to
never be blamed for
strife caused by the
soft side of the knife.
We've been tamed to aim
for both sides of life.

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."

Frivolously toss a grain of sand into my heart
and watch it tear me through the pavement.

Time spent together
was but a hiccup

a short gasp
that made me momentarily breathless.

The sterling stream that lines my sorrows
is never within stone's throw.
How many boulders away are you, my darling?
I yearn for you to grind my heart once more.
I need you to clip it's thoughtless wings,
for they're drooping and defeated by their lasting migration.

My heart is elephantine and my wings are hopeless
and they're abusing all of me for what is believably my eternity.  
My heart is dehydrated and cotton-mouthed,
It's tongue can not satisfy, for it's fangs are before it,
serrated by the bloodshed on our floor.
I could water my floral heart,
if someone put the watering-can in my hand,
but it doesn't know how to tread tears anymore anyway.

I am not satisfied.
Nor, can I satisfy
anymore.

I'm simply coasting through shapes and figures
to pass this paused time.
I have become a clown
that does not understand mortification any longer.
It's feelings have become hidden under a white face and red lips.

My tower of prospect has been thrown to the ground,
landing where my body was planted, stuck asleep.

They all say I deserve better.
I've been searching for better,
but it broke my wings and it broke my heart
and planted me at my own crime scene
******* me.

Silent smart remarks
reverting back to the familiar.
Things are sometimes more
difficult than they should be.
People don't know what
they're talking about.
They also don't know what
I am talking about.
Sometimes I don't want
to sleep, but I don't
want to leave either.
I'm afraid of the nightmares,
but I'm scared of thoughts too.

This night is going backwards
as I entomb and eat all of my words.
We're not vigilant anymore
and I wish I wasn't aware of it anymore.
I shattered our animated screen
and am practicing remaining carefully unseen.
I'm grasping at loose strings with loose fists
and burying the things I've kissed and moments I've grievously missed.
I'm learning how to be detached
and to manage these vibrantly mundane daily tasks
and recognizing a resonantly unseemly girl
monitor my reflection which unfurls
into some unrecognizable mask
and I dress myself in a costume of a cloak
that's a joke to poke around at
but still clings to my body and to my memory like some ancient artifact.
How about that?
And is this all because you are weak?
No, I think it's because I am weak.
And so we attempt to refrain from our harrowing fumes.
Somehow you're inhaling our fumes,
detached in solitude somewhere on our atlas.
You're oblivious to the fact that I'm deflating to nothing.
But it's whatever.
It's nothing.

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 want to see the world through skylit retinas

that are covered at night by a thicker comforter

than the one that rests upon the crevice in my side.

I want the electrical tape that holds my skeleton together

to be replaced with foreign joints

I want the muscles that spiral around my ivory bones

to be built of tough leather rather than the feather

that protects nothing what so ever.

I want the blood beneath my flesh

to be purple rivers that send shivers

down my sticky taped up spine

I want my skin to be more than a blanket

that plays hide and seek with the lever in my skull

instead of crank it.

Maybe then

I'll be an unknown species

Maybe then

I will be discovered

Maybe then

I can peek my fresh eyes out

and be blinded by the sunlit skies

beyond the rocks of my cave.

Things need to disorganize
they need to run around with their arms creating a tornado above their heads
they need to scrabble
to shuffle
to dishevel
to destroy
to complicate and confuse
to break up other things
to create a topsy-turvy world
in order to leave space
for things to reorganize.

There's plenty of fish in the sea,
but what about the bad ones?
I feel like my skin is made of wool
and I'm always Yoshimi battling the robots,
but maybe the Yoshimis are battling me.

And I've always hated gospel
but it's the most honest shitlist I've read;
and I feel like my mind love to play tricks on me,
like my own personal sugar daddy.
It's my zombie friend that constantly lies to me.

The bells in my brain keep ringing "rill rill rill"
like the disorderly dreams they know best
and I can always feel the knife tickling me until it hurts like
"Why don't you come to my party, Valerie?"
but I always end up alone by the woodpile out back
wishing for the past black out days.

These emotions spread like wildfire
miles away to the sea-saw I once admired from the ground
never getting higher.
And I've always been a two-headed girl but never a friend
and although I know it's a man's man's man's world
I know it now more than ever.
and every single night I morph more and more more
into Mrs. Robinson and I'm more and more and more
terrified every single **** mother ******* day.

I've had my one-life stand
and I'm settling for being confronted with my failures
though I have not confronted them.

And although every one else can enjoy swimming against the current I can't help but be the one breathing under water that ruins the trip to the lake.
What do I mean?

I never know.

I just want to be the king in a purple robe of velvet and satin asleep on a throne but I'm stuck asleep at my own feet waiting for someone to poke me
until it hurts.

The bus comes at the same time everyday.

I woke up late. I can never hear monotonous alarming noises.

I missed the bus.

I'll have to take a different one.

It won't get me to the same stop.

I'll have to transfer onto another bus.

And walk a few blocks.

I guess I'll get there in the end.

I just missed my express bus that got me there perfectly.

I still miss that express bus.

I'll never get there perfectly.

because my perspective is subjective

and my synapses has the bitter taste of molasses

that leaves goosebumps on your tongue

you don't understand the magnifying glass

that controls my mind

that focuses in on the small specks

that when looked at so closely

become the skyscrapers that i stand upon

a ghost that a gust of breath

blown at the back of my neck

through a tubular straw

can throw me through the ground

so you don't comprehend my perspective

because.

I'm a space filler.

I fill the empty spaces.

But I'm only a pastel.

My colors are light and airy.

You'll color over this space someday,

with colors that are more permanent--

with colors that don't fade, as I do.

I've already faded enough to disappear.

Just wait.

I find mystery in the silence.
It's an intelligence so complex,
that it's empty because it's
seeing all the flashbacks of its company,
and remembering things it has never experienced.
The silence is full of emptiness that is
encompassing those who are searching for a thought.
(The dimwitted ones.)
The silence is an excuse to be silent--
to get away from the screaming that goes on anyway.
I'm listening to the silence and pretending it's something defenseless.
I find security in the silence,
because silence always walks by,
calling for me from far away.
But it always walks away,
fearing that it's a distraction for me to escape towards.
The silence is looking out for me,
and singing to me all the time.

Free me from the crystals I have curved
that are rushing back to me... ready to roll over me.

Save me from this thicket of trees
that have planted me into the ground like a gravestone.

Rescue me with this key made from my own skeleton,
because this love is gruesome, locking me behind skeleton bars.

I have pleaded.
I have pilfered.
I have pawned.

My love is a man in drag,
disguised and uncertain.

Forgive me for not appreciating.
Forgive me for not learning.
Forgive me for not knowing.

Help me broaden my stride
because I'm lagging behind.

Don't leave me on the outside,
because my soul is eternally internal
and longs for the warmth of your dazzling vivid silver lies.

I'll free my love
I'll save my love
I'll rescue my love
I'll plead with my love
I'll pilfer my love
I'll pawn my love
I'll forgive you, my love
I'll help you, my love
I'll leave you, my love
     if you demand.

I can't even remember
the best things he said
anymore

I've been to St. James' Infirmary
to hide away
where my suitor put a bullet through me.

These days I'm a ghost,
and haunting is a hindrance
to the acid-burnt hole in my
transparent tongue
that longs to be able to lick
the sharp side of a knife.

But I sit in St. James' Infirmary
because I'm sick to my stomach
and sick to my brain.

I'm not the hero of this story
because all I found was a darling
that I didn't wish to cherish.

The darlings will all go to New York or somewhere
to escape from being buried alive
in this cemetery I've been digging up
for as long as I can remember.

Where's the chick habit
that's supposed to be clinging to me?
I don't have some chick habit of believing that
there's meaning to loving someone.

So come along, bro.
My love is your worst homie.

Bang bang bang.
I **** you.
Bang bang bang
I *******.

I'm a burnout,
burnt to the ground...
and I'm taking the forests with me.

And your the plastic decorations
that melt to the ground
in the aftermath of my flames.
I wish I could melt with you,
but my body is already made of ashes.

And the things I find morose have changed
from being suspended from classes
to just breathing and spending money...
and smacking *******' *****.
If you should try to kiss her,
remember that she'll soon turn to ashes.

And while we're young
we'll forget about the explosions.
Because she's always the new thing
and if you light her up she'll just be
a display of fireworks to you.

And I'm searching for the harvest within myself,
so that for once I can make things bloom
destroying them with an exploding boom.
mais la nuit est jeune
and it will always be young.

*So we wash and dance and showcase ourselves
using symbols like roses and arrows.

My whisper is a high pitched scream,
I can never seem to be soft enough.

And I've never been a lover of books
but I love what they've done for themselves.
And I've never been a lover of poetry,
but I'm an author and lover of words.

So kiss them for me,
because I'm exhausted.

Kiss them for me in the still sound of music
and I'll scream though I don't want to.

You are the light,
but I live in a comfortable cave.

Memories of that rhinestone choker
loose around my neck

Choke me like you like to be choked
A choker with rhinestone eyes and
hands clasped tighter than a rhinestone choker

I wish we happened during rush hour
so I could I appreciate everything
on the side of the highway that
I didn't notice
when we were going seventy miles per hour

It's the thrill of floating in an ambulance
knowing the end is near
but the feeling of flying

How can you call me a hippie
if I don't know
how to love?

It's 12:14 AM
and I'm being unsensible
because why would I be practical
When I only get scolded when I'm somebody else

So I'll live awake
and I'll write
and I'll think about the world
With folk as my soundtrack
Lyrical banjos overlapping with my thoughts
and mixing them together

And I'll have conversations in my head
because lonliness isn't as bad
as the lovers make it sound
And I'll pretend that there's someone next to me
But I don't even want to admit to myself who it is
Let alone to you

And I'll pretend that I can do things I shouldn't
and can't
and I'll do them in my head
alongside that person
and we'll go places that don't exist
because they might as well exist
and I know you can't resist
Because I decide that you can't
and I make the decisions when it's
12:16 AM in Alonedom

And this is the most personal I've ever been
And it's only because
It's 12:17 AM
and I'm being unsensible
and writing
and thinking about the world
In a way that I wouldn't be able to in the sunlight
And I'm admitting that there's somebody next to me
That nobody else can see
But they're not imaginary
They're real for me.

I don't miss the snow
I don't miss the cold
I miss the many layers
but there are so many other fabrics
to cover me up

The sun says I don't need any

I've given up
on good mornings
and now everything
is only a
hello

Danger occurs
beneath the tongue,
where words are drowned
by selfless saliva.

When there's nothing to say
I'll say nothing at all

But I'll say the same thing
When there's everything to say.

Nothing at all.

Sing softly and sweetly,
     for a single soul may listen
           and whisper your reprise.

I don't know what I'm looking at
a masterpiece of acoustic vision in front of my eyes
but for all I had known
there were trap doors slamming themselves
shut, letting off dust into the crystal air

For all I had known
this freckle on my kneecap is a trickling spider
making its way over the hill
because it's been climbing so long it's footsies
are blistering and it just wants to
freefall into nothing.

For all I had known those voices of
children outside are trapped in my head
They don't exist because nothing is real
and nothing is real because it's safer fake

For all I know now is all I knew then
It's just altered and makes sense now
because I know what opportunities I left
to die dry
because I didn't water them with tears
I made an ocean instead.

The thought bubbles of my mind pop and multiply
They scraggle around playing bumper cars
Avoiding the inevitable contact
they ram each other and bounce right back
Hopefully Sunday force will cause them to morph.

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 don't deserve love
because I've never given any out
but how can I begin to share love
when nobody is willing to share it with me?

**** this longing and missing and nostalgia for the past
I'm being cruelly punished for the worst of crimes
that I can't seem to figure out how to not commit.

and so I'll wallow and dream those sweet wonderful nightmares
of you and you and you and you and you and you and I.

*******.
Kiss her neck and her ribs and the middle of her chest
and drink wine and lay in her lap and distract her with kisses
while I drink and feel sick to my stomach
and more worthless than those days when my mother tied me to a leash.

*******.
and I'll dream nightmares I can't control
of hard kisses and your cherry pepper voice
while you laugh at the thought of how pathetic I am
and not give a **** about whether or not I'm still alive

Your laughter will haunt me and hold me to the ground.

****/..
I can'teven see anymore throuthg the clouds in my eyes
not that you give a single ****.

Your cigarette stained lies
envelope me
until I'm puffing them out and letting them into the air
into a cloud of smoke
and the world hates you
because of me
but it hates me too
and I wish you the best of ******* luck
except I'm a drunk liar
and a drunken hypocrite
you don't give a ****
and I might not do better
but that's still better than you
I feel bad
for the feathers that stay tucked in your pillowcase
that you sleep on every night
that you suffocate
with your cigarette stained lies
that you burn people with
I will walk on maybe
but with cigarette burns on my arms
I'll wear your lies on my sleeve
and show off your cherry pepper voice to the world
you're invited to my party
and to my showcase
just sit in the back row where I can't see you
and leave before the finale
and never mention it again
You should probably tell her that you miss me
and not burn her with cigarette stained lies
oh who am I kidding?
You're a ******* chain smoker
and she's *******
If I wasn't such a bitter human being
I'd feel sorry for her

Chao.