I'm the self-deprecating monster you brought
back to life. Mouth sewn shut and my
brain is only programmed to survive.

I feel safer with that new car smell
but i am intrigued by rusty parts

Although railroad tracks won't break me apart
I'm missing the adventure of crashing down

Of leaking onto the pavement
and exploding.

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.

I have a dark side
It's just on the inside
Which is why you probably can't see it

The other side of my skin
is the foundation for
a world with no stars

The world would be so different
if I could see it with my body turned inside out
Everybody would see my sadness
the inkiness of my veins
The tears in my blood
making it runny and
my organs aren't sunny
because my heart is the moon

But if everyone else
could see the world with my body turned inside out
maybe they would see that I'm more beautiful on the inside
than I am on the out
Because my organs:
My inky veins and My runny blood and My moon
are more attractive than everyone elses

Or maybe they're not.

Probably not.

My moon just likes to imagine they are.

It's not so much the light at the end of the tunnel,
but the assurance that there's always light in the morning
after you wake up from a horrible nightmare,
You're just dreaming,
I'm just dreaming of these screeching banshees
Birds will chirp in the morning
A phoenix with healing tears will perch on my bedside
Ready to cry on my heart when I awake.

Missing that morning music with subtle beats,

but I can only hear mourning music with heavy harmonicas

I can't wait
to not live in a morgue.

But I seem to be
all the time.

If anyone is looking for a neck-rub,
today's the time.
Dead guys don't seem to enjoy them
these days.

I miss the feeling of
fuzzy animals rubbing against my leg
and my heart
and all the other happy feelings.

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.

I'm just trying to show people
how things are;
not how they should be.

I'm unique.
I'm too unique.

I'm a mover
and there's movement everywhere.

Move with me.

Not out of addiction,
     just out of boredom.

I'm taking it into me.
I'm taking it in.

I learned to love rain again.
     it can't stop me now.

Not even in the hall of my love;
     the mighty mountain king.

Stay silent

Even your whisper
makes my ears
leak.

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.

Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize I cannot hypnotize you?
I still spend my darkness delirious, longing for you to crave me,
and analyzing all the misread clandestine messages you gave me.

I'll be a liability until the time I am too old to lose;
until I choose for you to no longer be my shameful muse.
I'm no longer amused, just bemused and confused about how you could choose a sharper muse over my bitter heart which is drenched to the core in shameful *****.

I apologize for not being the durable woman you thought you appreciated.
The casket I built for my heart is too small for it to grow into a durable heart to be appreciated.
I wish I could be the new damsel you stumble into, but now you're wavering with a new damsel crew.

Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize your eyes told more lies than my empty hole, which only stubbornly cries?

I wish I could settle inside an insignificant casket with yellow birds and albino rats.
My hat's off to you for being my frozen rat that's in my exposed and taunting freezer, congrats.
Why won't you let me bury you like my frozen albino rats?

If there's anything I can do for you, you would never have to beg me.
Let me. I beg you.
Be indigo blue for me and I'll be true to you with nothing better to do than you.

I want to dimple your smile and file you away in the mile deep corners of my unkind mind---
even if it means bruising my dusty knees.
Please, be my hopeless Hercules with equally dusty knees.

Is my esophagus so full of **** that I have to purify it just to please?
Do I have to clear it just to breathe properly?
I fear I can merely wheeze miserably.
I hope it's just a stage; a torn out page in my autobiography that's theme I can no longer gauge.
Imagine the heart I could be able to manage successfully if I could only manage to grow gracefully with age.

Hello, see me.
Be with me and then free me.
Believe in me.
Bereave yourself of me.
Heave dust with me.
Believe in rust with me.
Be faithful rust for me.
Trust in me.
This must only be lust with me.

This is my left hand.
It met Mr. Right.
He was your right hand.
They fit together just right.
But Mr. Right hand left
And now my left hand
doesn't know
how to be left alone
now that Mr. Right isn't home.

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.

I have nutrition in one hand and thoughts in the other
but both hands might as well be empty
they're too small to hold neither mind nor health
they're too small to hold onto anything at all
So I let them fall to my sides and I stand and wait
for someone with gargantuan hands
to hold them but I realize now
my hands are too small for yours anyhow.

I'm the un-proud owner of a melody
that perpetually brings me to my dead end;
and my spirit has left without me
and I'm too sluggish to grasp it again.

It knew I'm a fool with a dream
that's far bigger than me;
and you ran away with my spirit
because it needs nothing from you,
unlike me;
and you ran away with my dream
when you could have stayed with me.

Hi.

(It's been so long and I miss you so ******* much)

I figured I'd call you to cheer you up but you're not answering your phone

(I called because my will power ***** and I know you've been hurting. I'm crushed that you didn't answer because I just want to hear the sound of your voice so I won't forget what it sounds like. I miss that cherry pepper melody of compliments and lies.)

And mines almost dead

(Losing hope of finally hearing that song, so spicy and sweet)

and we're still four hours outside Minneapolis, so...

(Here comes four more hours of thinking about you and brooding about the past that I'll have to endure. Four hours of wondering what we would have talked about if you had answered.)

I don't know if you're sleeping or if

(I really hope you didn't see my name on your caller ID and endure the torturous ringing of that vintage telephone ring tone and feel the vibrations and hums of my call in your hands all the way up until now when I'm recording this message, because deep down I have false hope that you miss me as much I miss you. God, I ******* miss you.)

...

(Static/bad reception)

dead.

(Like I wish I was)

Talk to you soon maybe

(Maybe I will feel this brave tomorrow, or maybe I'll just regret leaving this message and never talk to you again. I haven't decided yet.)

Have a good day at school

(I wish you still told me every detail about your day. I wish I was still sitting next to you and holding your hand and not able to keep my hands off your *** as you told me about your classes.)

tomorrow*

(Tomorrow never seems to go as planned.)

Nothing in my belly
but shadows and rivers

and I'm lucky
that all I feel is shivers

The pulsing of a tired brain
     and the sleepiness
          of a foreign language
          from a green and red city.

Passing the time to forget
     that time passes.

I am my own nemesis---
     the enemy, the villain, the darkness.

I need to conquer my evils
     and put to rest my poisonous lips.

Don't swallow my forbidden saliva.
     It's deadly, though it doesn't want to be.

Forgive me and then ****** me.

Outlive me and shine bright black.

Absence of ambition
dancing with the
presence of boredom.
I'm nothing and I'm nowhere.

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.

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.

After facing death,
it's weird to realize
how nihilistic you
still really are.

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 don't feel like
any kind of person.

You've serenaded me into a comotose slumber.
I'm continuously sensing lullabies whilst paralyzed.
I'm too terrified to speak; too timid to even mumble.
Your intonation is so soothing; a banshee in disguise.

I'm stuck asleep in this in-pain asylum built of thorns.
Dreaming of the agenda I've never been capable of.
So turn the lights out in the tornado haven in my insane and in-pain brain,
and never admonish the fact that this pain is a continuous refrain.

The fires of my desires are cornered and defeated,
smouldering beneath the timber of my emotions.
I know you could never be lighter fluid for me,
but with our incandescent splendor blown out we can still go blindly through the motions.

My reveries never used to be this empty, and now they're becoming hollow with my conscience;
and these hollow empty chances are drying out as I continue to discouragingly pursue you.

You'll never envisage your face as I see it, and you'll never envisage why this bliss makes me weap.
I'll never have the most alluring face to you,
and my cold shoulder only monotonously lulls you peacefully to sleep.

And now it's to everyone's amusement that I can't manipulate my liquor anymore.
I'm so messy hahahahahahahaha.
So they prevail, standing as if they're boulders upon my shoulders,
compressing my heart deep into my intestines.

So now my love is growing slender
as yours becomes a pretender
and my whispy love surrenders as I surrender to this alcoholic ******.

The grains of my affinity rest in your palm and you spread your fingers and let them fall.
I could beseech you to clench your fist, but I won't.

I'm your lover you don't have to love
as my heart is left hanging above.
It's high and dry;
too weak and too shy.
So tie me to this clothes line
and hang me out to dry.

The spaces between my thoughts
is where I crouch---
          holding my breath.
You screeched, "Ready or not, here I come!"
and I must have been ready
because I'm still hiding
in those tiny spaces between my thoughts.

I'll run my hands
through my wet and clean hair
to scrub away the blood
crusting under my fingernails.

****.

and suddenly my heart doesn't weigh so much anymore

Sometimes I see things
It's a rare occurance
because I don't mean to see them
I mean to look away from something
else.

Sometimes I notice
But only for a split second
but I don't usually remember
until hours later

Today I noticed something
It was a rare occurance
I didn't mean to see them
I meant to look away from something else

Today I noticed
But only for a split second
I didn't remember
until now

Today I shied away
From what was in front of my face
and I noticed from across the room
a pair of eyes
and what a sight they were to see
I wonder if they had seen
the pair of green
looking at their sky.

Not everything is coming together

but there will be performances anyway

improvisation

How old are you, again?

NoTimeNoTimeNoTime

Hello, I'm silent and weird

I hope you still like me

Actually I don't care

Come watch, Come wait, Come see

Come On

Posing upon a pedestal
bare and broken.

See my silhouette
in the spotlight.

Life isn't La Vie En Rose
anymore.

Just a slumber party duet--
naked upon the rock bottom floor.

There's an eye on the back of my neck
and in order to let it see,
I stretch my spine up to the sky;
my nose aiming at the bullseye straight ahead.

I'm scared of what's behind
and I don't want the hauntings to make my eye blind,
so I hang my head
and curve my spine into an arch,
so my my eye can see the sky instead.

I'll get a hunchback from my lonely march,
but my eye will never have to see my past.

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.

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."

We're only bodies
with pacing limbs
exempt from all our racing sins.

The universe mocks with
Emmylous and Junes
but there are things far greater
than what rises with the moon

People are just furniture
used to decorate living rooms
and add comfort to them

Lonely like a bad habit

Lonely is a bad habit.

Do you feel a somethin' coming on?
Something upbeat?
Why don't I feel sorry for anyone?
Play them. They're cool.
I'm feeling something upbeat.
In this land of white, packaging peanuts
and animals frolicking in the static.
All their blood cells have a pace.
One I wish I had.
Because in this place all there is  is
politics and religion and robots.
How can you love those things and
have that vision of love and
everyone holding hands?
I love the ugly and uncomfortable.
Not the people, but the feelings.

I won't come crawling back,
my knees are ***** enough as it is

This is my internal explosion. It's as if I slit a piece of art into every ***** and drained out everything that was taking up too much room, suffocating me. And everybody is wading in a pool of my insides without even noticing. I'm all torn apart far away from everyone and my pipe intestines are still leaking. Just put a rusty bucket beneath them. **** it. Let's wait for a mechanic that we don't even know to fix the leak and dump my organs into some random creek. I know I am weak, even though I act like a too cool for school freak, alienating me to nothing. Forgive me. You'll outlive me because I don't even feel alive anymore. I wish I was still a chore. I wish I didn't only exist on the outside of the door to your brain, unlike before. I wish I could still live in the insane with you. I wish I could be an amplifier for you. I wish I could still fly for you. I wish I could die with you. You hate it when I cry with you, so why do you always make me cry for you? Why do you force me to die for you all the time? I'm your zombie lover, standing for nothing except your brain.I wish I wanted to eat your brain but I only want to live inside of it. I'm your zombie lover trying and failing to haunt your memories. Why aren't you scared of me? You were never prepared for me. You never really cared for me or truly bared it all for me, until I was already buried. It's not like we were married or whatever. I just wish we could have carried the weight of our hearts together. But you never wanted my support or should I say weight, or should I say baggage, or should I say obnoxious and monotonous heavy heart?

You say you don't want to be with anybody right now. Does that make me just anybody? And don't kid me, please. I wish I wasn't so whiny and I wish your feelings weren't so tiny. I wish if I yelled, "Hide and seek!" you would actually try to find me. I wish you would be kind to me. I'm binded to my lonely splint of solitude. I wish people would quit asking about my mood as if they don't understand that I'm brooding my monotonous personal etude constantly. My etude's mood is a just a ******* boring dude at party.

I have sympathy for things that don't want it
and apathy for things that only want my sympathy

Yet I own no sympathy at all.

I regret putting down my sheild,
but I won't regret the happiness
that threw it to the ground.

I love the people when
the people don't love me.

And the worst part is
I have nothing to dress up for anymore
but I keep overflowing my closet
more and more.

I scrub this paper
with all of my might
Pink eraser clenched in my hand
I wear it down
Until my fist starts scrubbing
Then I realize
That what I wrote
I wrote with a permanent marker
It will never go away
The memory will always stay
shown dark and thick
I might as well have etched it in stone
Because what I wrote
is forever shown.

I am a believer of phantoms and all things undead
I am a skeptic of thoughts on a wire through my head
Fate balances on this tightrope and does dances and screams
and it seems it can only slice at my seams
So as I walk across this planet and stare at the moon
I am a believer of all that is happening too soon.