dare i wonder what you think of me
for i do not know what i think of myself.
maybe there's a difference between how you see yourself and how you let others see you.
     am i a plague or a remedy
     am i stone cold or burning flames
     am i chilled to the bone or am i a home
sometimes home can be a person, but i am no home.
my hands are cold, they will burn you with
frost. i am kind but i am afraid.
my chest hurts with the thought of you.
not because i wish to have you but because
                            i don't.
maybe i do, but i am an ocean and you are lost in me. i can see the moon.
     do i flee from what i have only to retreat to what i am?
i ask of you, are you something new or the
                             thing that i can't find.
i have a treasure that i wish to keep and
                              not soil.
you are a treasure of your own.
yet i am not worthy.

i can have obsidian or i can have gold.
Man has always been greedy but i am
                      Humble.
     am i kind?
am i kind to take a cherry with
     cyanide pit?
you believe me a diamond, but i am only coal.
you, my dear, have a heart made of gold.

Galaxies and wonderment;
Suns brighter than suns;
A collection of constellations
Woven between my fingers.

I cry sunsets and
Hold sunrises on my shoulders;
Like Sisyphus rolls boulders.
This is my eternity.

I see demons in blue light;
Dancing around the firelight.
I see angels with charred wings;
Heads adorned with golden rings.

I have galaxies inside of me;
Worlds they will never know;
With grass that caresses the feet,
And air that smells sweet.

Then there are the withered parts
Of me that I hope they will never see;
With monsters that prowl the dark,
Creations that I pray I will never be.

Stars twinkle above my head.
I look at them and know their dread,
For I am in the space of limbo;
A realm where the winds always blow.

I can feel claws on my skin,
Tearing to rip my head open.
Inside is found stories untold;
Languages only the angels know.

Here I walk among the trees;
Here I walk among fantasies;
Worlds of my own creation.
Here you know my imagination.

[PRESS PLAY]

there is no light in this
place where i reside.
my eyes go black and
there
         is
    only
            condemnation.

can you imagine being devoid?
a soul like nothingness.

what allows you to imagine?
what allows you to wonder?

[PRESS REWIND]

once i had felt the light.
once i was the light.
now i am lost, eyeless.
if only i could unsee.
if only i could unspeak.

what to do when such
secrets blind you, silence you.

[FORWARD TO THE FALL]

i thought i was sunlight.
i thought i was kind.
now i understand
         i understand.

nothing can be undone.
it can only be remade.

A kiss does not have the power to **** you.
Wound you? Maybe.
But never eternal rest.

A kiss does not lead Death to your door.
It is not the Grim Reaper wielding a scythe.
It does not hold your soul in its hands.

But it does hold your heart.
A kiss may not have the power to **** you,
But it does have the power to bring you to life.

people write poems
about subjects
such as him.

with painted nails,
glittering eyes,
polished skin,

he is like poetry
about women
with lipstick
the color
of sin.

and as he drinks
his wine, they
will sit and write
poems about
subjects such
as him.

this will never go away,
i know with certainty.

when i see the way
your hair begins to curl
as it’s growing out.
the way you look,
i remember your smell.
the feeling of you in
my heart.
beside me.

my heart will always
beat for you.
my soul will always
shine for you.
i will always
feel for you.

these palpitations will
never leave me alone.
no matter how much i
want them to.

the moon looks like cheshire’s smile tonight
i think i’ll go by myself next time
just to unwind myself, alright
i’m tightly bound like a thousand page
my spine creaks every time you turn me.

my favourite time of day is when the sun speaks
i can’t think thru moon whisperings
cards of illusion murmur to me
what they mean
i am the false reality.

every moment i spend with you is like
ten tabs i can’t take back
i’m trying to make sense of what is
right before me but i can’t see
anything, i can’t feel anything.
the streetlights of highway streak my vision
i have a billboard headache and
this isn’t a street race we’re not fighting for relevancy.

what are we without our dreams?
our imagination, inspiration, aspirations.
what happens to a dream forgotten?
when our thoughts are like dough,
and dreams are no more.

what drives the stars to shine?
what drives the gods to thrive?
what drives a human to be kind?
what would be of us if Prometheus
didn’t sacrifice his freedom for our knowledge?

dreams in us strive, thrive, make us kind.
we are humankind with the stars on our side.
we shine with the hearts of dreamers,
and with fire in our hands,
and the dreams in our heads,
we will make our own constellation.

He used to know her.
He remembers her.
He knows her.

He does not know her now.
He cannot know her now.
He will not know her now.

Her hair is red, like the
blood dripping down
her neck.

He remembers when
her hair would glow
in the sun.

She is not a blonde.
Not anymore.

Her eyes are black, empty,
the soft caramel brown
that he used to know is gone.

Her cheeks are covered
with blue marks,
and her skin is broken
in many places.

Blood drips down her shoulder.
She limps as her wing hangs
broken behind her,
dragging in the mud.

She is not who he remembers.
But she is who he will never forget.

my love, he enjoys the springtime.
the butterflies / they follow him
like dogs on a leash, cover him

they make him a crown from their
beating wings, like hearts upon
his head. he begs for deliverance.

only the butterflies hear his
whispering words to gods / he
hopes will hear / but he forgets

yet again / that he is a god himself
made of everything / they have ever
known. he is substance and lack of it.

i envy him with his hands of grace
his tongue / of lace instead of knives.
he asks for liberation but he liberates

my soul into worlds / unknown
filled with golden feathers and halos.
my blood runs thick / his runs thicker

with soft hair that / turns golden in
the sun, he shines as bright
as anything / i’ve ever known

brighter than the halos of the angels
filled with colors that could best
the boldest / painters, he is a painting

in motion / this i know
he is art come alive and dancing
through the clouds and heavens

to reside in the sun, where holiness
runs free like children in the street
and i hope he is never forgotten

like how he has forgotten all
that he was and should be, like
he has forgotten / someone like me.

Tripping over words,
Like tripping over your own feet.
Strong willed and stubborn,
And that's the way it's gonna stay.
Everything we thought was impossible,
Falling into our lap.

You spread lies like jam on toast,
And it hurts when you shove your fingers down my throat.
You talk like you know it all,
But you need to keep quiet,
Because with a mouth like that,
You'll have people coming at you from all directions.

But hey, here we are, we survived,
And everything exchanged with cracking knuckles against bruised cheeks,
Well, things like that just complicate the situation.

You fly like you were taught,
But can you walk like us?
We're all we need,
But you need us.

We don't know any direction but forward,
So just watch us try and backtrack.
Go away, please stay,
Will you just make up your mind?

Behind metal bars isn't how I wanna live.
Give me the key and we'll get by,
The blows delivered getting under my skin.

Rattling off words like you know what they mean,
But can you read the notes on this music sheet?
You're nothing but show,
Your words giving way to fault.

You act like you were trained,
But can you talk like us?
You don't know a ******* thing,
And that's why you need us.

We sink like the Titanic,
Just sit back and watch us float,
I love you, but I hate you.
Someone tell me how to feel.

Because you rattle me like I rattle the bars of my cage.

archeologists brush dust away from bones,
like memories from empty homes.
here i sit among rubble and ruin,
amidst broken picture frames strewn.

this is the scene i remember the most.
my words are written, jagged,
in a notebook forgotten, ragged am i
as my eyes shine like broken glass.

my bones turn to rust, to dust.
i brush away my remains from this grave
of a home i no longer remember.
among portraits i am no longer a part of.

november comes around with its bells,
bellows loud that i am not welcome here.
it brings fallen petals of blood red rust.
i am stained with agony and painful lust.

for a time that does not forgive,
and as the cold sweeps in i know,
november is the time of sin, for me.
i was born in a time that does not forgive.

the picture frames will not let me back in.

i / am / absent / here

Blue like the diamonds in their eyes.
A childhood broken on a rusted slide.
The rungs of the ladder are gone,
The sirens of the city moving on.

i’ve begun to learn i change like the seasons.

in spring, i come awake in the thaw. water trickles from my skin, i can dance & laugh again. i am leaping, blooming like a flower after buried so long beneath the snow.

i breathe. i am free.

in summer heat i am feral and alive. shining under bright sun i burn & my skin peels away in rivulets to reveal who i am meant to be. the sunflowers still turn to the sun, but their eyes are always watching me.

i create. i am peace.

in autumn i am cloaked in nostalgia laced melancholy. my leaves are shedding one by one in bright burst colour to blanket the Earth. fire laced borealis preparing for the freeze.

i release. i am bare.

in winter, the cold comes, and i break. my skin cracks open like sorrow & i bleed. covered over with snow, concealed, hidden, lost in subzero. isolated behind ice my eyes turn blind. i know myself no longer.

i cannot hibernate with no home.
i am hollow.

the groundhog sees his shadow. the sun shines on me no more. i am dim, faded, hidden behind glassy eyes.

i will warm again.
but when?
when?
when?

breath turns to frost in my lungs, to flower petals, sand, leaves. i choke & ***** all that i had been, have become.

i begin from where i began, again.
i am changed.

together, we have the fury to set this world on fire.
but alone, you have the passion to rearrange the stars,
make the sun freeze,
and fill the moon with life.

alone,
i can create tornado’s and wind storms,
small glimpses of silver breath whistling through
the wheat fields, over the tops of trees.

i could never match your ability
to make the sunset paint all of the sky instead of just one half of it.
the universe turns it’s head whenever you work your magic.
in the thick of things, i am a grenade exploding
but you are the big bang that started it all.

“the sky has gained a star.”
“i do not want to remember him as a star! there are millions of stars! i want to remember him as blu, as who he was. a man, with the sun as his soul. with wings the color of the sky, and eyes the color of rainclouds. he is not a star; he is the man who brought us here. who eliminated what has been plaguing our people for decades, the man who taught me what it was like to be in love with the day when i am are the night. blu was my love! he is a man! he would not want to be a legend, he would only want to die when we die! he was humble; remember him as such. a man, not a star.”

my body is
always moving the water
with the power of a heartbeat
inconsequential waves
infinitesimal ripples
we are so small
but so powerful
and i don’t know how that is.

“he will destroy himself” he looked up at her, her hair like the smoke trailing from his fingers. tears traveled down the length of his nose and collected on his lips like salty dew drops. “the star thief will one day become what he stole” and she left him with this, the universe collecting on his shoulders like sand washed onto the shore.

We confuse what we say, tripping on our tongues
Caught on a thin line between the shadows and the light.
We are drowning in a warm place, a high we cannot reach, words we cannot preach.

We are lost in the limbo of what we hide and what we show.
We are the static of a confused connection, scattered pixels and broken sound.
See our outline on the blue screen, we are ready to be overthrown.
Hands reaching for the sky but touching the ground.

A mixture of color and black and white, life against truth.
The grey area, the words in our minds and mouths and let go.
Inked in words on white walls, distorted blots and acid down your throat.

We are lost in the limbo of what we hide and what we show.
We are the static of a confused connection, scattered pixels and broken sound.
See our outline on the blue screen, we are ready to be overthrown.
Hands reaching for the sky but touching the ground.

We are the catalyst for your breakdown, the chemical fix you need.
The flash of truth behind a liar’s eyes, a rusted lock that has no key.

We are the static of a confused connection, scattered pixels and broken sound.
See our outline on the blue screen, we are ready to be overthrown.
Hands reaching for the sky but touching the ground.

We are the static of your broken explanation.
Watch us wither and die as you drag your feet, a long way from home.

statue angels and stone cold kings.
mine their hearts and steal their rings.
turn them into crowns for nobles unbound,
sitting with Arthur at a table so round.

ancient martyrs and modern heroes.
tales of rebellion and battles they go.
fighting horned demons and winged serpents,
with blood on their hands they feel the repentance.

they drink their *** and consume the alcohol,
waiting and watching for the hammer to fall.
yet no news came of the hellish flame,
that was said to burn them all.

the bluebird had queries and questions
and thought he should ask the moon,
but the moon was dark that night.
its hood was pulled tight.

the bluebird sighed, and so did the sun.
the sea greeted him with a waving hand.
“bluebird, bluebird up there!
the moon does not speak easy.
having its skin broken too many times.”

the bluebird whistled a sad tune.
“whatever shall i do, when i need the moon?
he will not speak, and i am too weak
to fly to him up there.”

the sea crashed against the rocky shore,
and its response was, “you need not wings,
bluebird, when the moon will come to you.
for when your light falls the moon will rise,
in the darkness it lights the skies.”

the bluebird huffed once again.
“i am not the sun, silly sea.
you mistake my feathers for blue skies,
i am not the stars in the night.”

but the bluebird could not see,
how bright he was to be.
and as he flew away,
the moon began to say,
“your wings are bigger than they seem.
bluebird, do not fret.
our time is to come together yet.

so the bluebird whistled a tune
as his wings expanded and grew,
and lifted him high into the sky,
and to the moon he drew nigh.
he landed among the stars.
bluebird, you will indeed go far.

stray
from me

please,
don't go

i will
swallow
you
like poison

oh
but the
pain
feels so
sweet

you
are
my
last
mem
         **ory

the moon stood in the sky
with tools upon his back.
so he’d work through day
and through the night.

he forged the weapons of
warriors throughout his land,
and for one it was quite special
to hold a blade made from his hand.

the sun gleamed in the day,
but the moon was far away.
a star catcher he did make
to pull the sun into his wake.

eclipses aren’t made to last.
but their energy stays
a never forgotten past.
the moon enjoyed the sun’s rays.

so should he stand in shadows,
he was content with his fate.
at least the sun lived day to day.

the moon hid his pain, day to day,
for he hurt in way that mortals
could not know, could not speak.
his sorrow made gods fall to their knees

and so the moon toiled, day to day,
while the sun lived away
but he could not weep.
the sun was never his to keep.

"is that all you think this is? fun and games?"
"of course! where is the fun if you are not insane?"

how is it a game if none want to play?

“hi, i’m wolf” his eyes were silver. the silvered-eyed boy with brown skin.

i remember this. i remember him, the way his tongue would fiddle with his silver lip-ring on the right side of his mouth. the silver pointed studs that hooked through his left eyebrow.

the way he said my name.

i was always “carnage” from where i came. i wasn’t named that, no. but they would say it anyway, just to see if i would flinch. if i fell for it, they would follow with “you break everything you touch”.

if i fell for that?

that was why my blood was usually the one running down the sink on those nights.

“your name isn’t carnage, really? you don’t look like someone who could hurt that many souls.” my eyes fell away from his, ashamed. “tell me you don’t believe that, little lamb”

so that became my new name.

i wonder if people catalogue you
like time in their mind.
if there’s an allotted space for you
hidden between the hands of the clock,
passing by hours without thought
are you sectioned off somewhere
a time of night people don’t go near
the streetlight hits you and i see
you touch you to call you real
the space where you were becomes
smoke through my fingers.
i wonder what time of space you
exist in and
can i come in?

may i be the tower in tearing down
your structure.
in the same breath i am the chariot,
carrying you forward in light
past the destruction.
a living example that all of us have
to fall in order to pick ourselves
back up again, & carry on.
to rebuild back stronger you must
leave behind the ruin
to rise anew.
rubble ghosts blind the eyes
from the heart & jam into the wheels.
tear down rotten structure & leave
behind the thoughts of the mind
to refuse change & recovery.
i am a human with incredible buoyancy;
nobody else tears me down from
this tower better than myself,
just as nobody else can pick me back
up & make me get back to work
all over again, repeat the process
until you learn.
repetition cursing karmic cycles
break the chains of rigidity
embrace the cycle of chainge, cyclical.
the sun turns the planets which in turn
turn each other. as the earth
turns the moon, & the black hole at
the center, turns all of us.
remember to myself, this is part of the
process. lows are just as necessary
for learning as are the highs.

accept it as it is; know you can't change it

i think i miss you too much
as if i forget this love is fleeting
as all are with me.
and it doesn’t matter how much you promise,
because i know what will happen
as it always has.

i struggle with the fine line
between yours and mine.
and i will never stop apologising,
i’m sorry.

A red swing paired with a blue slide.
The rust of the metal reflected in diamond eyes.
A childhood that seemed perfect from the outside.
Buried underground with lies told from the inside.

Pale pieces of wood on a beach shore.
Soft sand that they hoped would forget the blood that they poured.
Clumps of seaweed along the rim like lost limbs.
Scattered into pieces, they know how it is.

A fenced in **** farm housing a satellite.
Stars reflected in green eyes like drinking the night.
They’re sipping on alcohol, burning so bright.
It’s better to burn out than to leave without a fight.

Love cannot live here.
pulse fluttering reminder of mortality.
years are nothing, will die, will abide,
becoming less as time passes.

your ghost, a flash
I, this hideous thing.
That touch, crush what thrums in my veins.
easier to speak of than this feeling in my chest,
my heart, carved out of me
I, a fool.

looks like broken
Make it easier. Don’t be pathetic.
Not yet.
desire more desperately, revelling in the warmth
the curve beneath my hand.

I breathe Against my will
I sway, a Ghost seeing nothing
feeling nothing, bleeding, a shadow.
Turn around, my past whispers.
I don’t. I hear no goodbyes.

i’m falling out of place again &
i’m sorry we haven’t spoken in weeks
i really liked that boy i did
& i thought i could have a friend again.
i don’t know.

i’ve been working all week but when
is that an excuse when you’re eighteen?
sometimes i feel i should be twenty-three
barely making ends meat
i want to go to parties i shouldn’t
be at and drink until my heart’s content
and my liver protests
i want to dance all night long under
flickering black light pitch night
(take a photograph through
****** filter lens)
in clothes i’ve never worn before
where i can feel your hands through my
shirt without taking any of it off
show off
i like the smoke around me but never
inside & i think i’ve done enough tonight.
i’m tired.
please come inside.

i’m trying to write, right
write right what has been wrong
i lost myself in breakdown
retrograde spinning backwards dizzily
can’t remember who i am, who i was
or who i’m meant to be.
i need a hand to hold, as you held mine
and tried to remind me,
i’m here, i’m complete.
but words ring empty when
i still feel so hollow, i scooped myself out.
am i dissociating? a persistent occurrence
for weeks four weeks.
i take the medication and feel separate
from myself but when i don’t i am myself.
i hate myself.
i wish there were a medicine that could
make me love myself.

i want to clean out my closet
all the clothes that don’t fit,
never have never will.
all the skins of myself i hang up,
too tight, too loose, too wrong never right.
i’m tired.
i know i’d miss myself,
a self i never was and i’m sorry
i gave you the impression i was different,
and worth understanding,
when i don’t understand myself
hardly at all any of the time.
i just want to know why
where i went and will i come back,
like dad who left for milk and cigarettes.
i want to move away,
forget everything and start again
where nobody knows my name, who i am.
i’m so sad.
i’m sorry i’m not myself,
i wish i could be, for you,
for me, too.
i’m tired of searching.
this constant skin shifting itching
like a rash i scrape at myself
only to make it worse
and i just have to learn
to let sleeping dogs lie,
and let the caged bird fly.
i want to come home. i want to belong
within myself,
but i’ve never felt so out of place.
i think it’s time to take my medication.
i’ll see you someday, wherever i went.

my name is bitter on your lips.
i know because i can see the way
your eyes flash, your lips curl.
i am not sweet licorice anymore.

but that is strange, because i was
never sweet. you just bit into my
center. i am the darkness in the
light. do not look into my eyes
and dare tell me what is wrong
or what is right.

you however, oh, you were always
sweet. bitter as the shell but soft
on the inside. you, oh, you were
the light inside the darkness.

i enjoyed swirling your blood on
my tongue, coating my sense of
taste in nothing else but you, sweet.
but i bit my tongue and you stung.

oh, how you stung.
and i finally knew
what it was like
to love someone
like me, as someone
such as you.

because darkness can only exist with the absence of light.
and i never needed you to complete me.

i can’t write
****** poetry
though the lapsing
hours spent
are ***
and you said
it can’t hang
from your rear
view
and that’s how
you knew
that car wasn’t
a cop.
they don’t have
an aesthetic like
you
forgo the
hula girl
there are better
palm trees
than me
with brighter colour
and better design
but you hang me
from your rear
view mirror

when you water it.
where you water me.
don’t overwater, please.
i’m already rotting.

i know your story and i know it well
hold the secrets you won’t tell
dream catcher, dream catcher, oh

so dare tell me a lie
as our collision draws nigh
we will sit and count all the stars in the sky

where do willow trees grow?
oh, but you and i both know
they grow where we roam
because we plant them as we go

we’ll be dancing in the dark before too long
with a match-strike smile and a killer tongue
dream catcher, dream catcher, run

i wrote a book of poetry
but it’s in a language you can’t read
take your time to find my heart reins peculiar chemistry

where do willow trees grow?
oh, but you and i both know
they grow where we roam
because we plant them as we go

your eyes reflect the city lights
your mind as vast as the stars in our sky
dream catcher, dream catcher, dare hide

the weeping willow will never hear,
how we draw so near.
the weeping willow will never know,
oh, where do willow trees grow?

the sun sets at
four pm today &
here i am again.
reading poetry with
a stolen cup of
wine from my
mom’s cooler in the fridge.
as my cat sits next to me
coaxing me back from
a depressive ledge
for half an hour
as i read & watch
people richer than me
go shopping on the
television.

you kept me company for
a day & a half
and yet
it’s less than 24 hours
later and i want to jump
again.
i can’t tell you my last
words because then
you’ll try to stop me &
i can’t live with that.
i haven’t been able to.
and if i don’t call in-
don’t call back about
that job application
i always let
everybody down.

i wish i had the sleeping pills now
because this liquid courage might
let
me
drown

cold wind bites my cheeks.
red and orange and pink
expand across the sky,
like blood flowering from
an open wound.