You were a poem from the beginning

Something in your boyish features and shining blonde hair, shabbily cut across those blue eyes
You were a marvel to me simply in the way you walked, floating on knobby knees and slouching socks
In your blackline tattoos, the silver hoop in your left ear, your skin Moroccan gold
And you had that one darkened tooth of a crooked smile lover

In the afternoon, I watched the sun cut through the holes in the space above us
In shy glances, I watched whole worlds of your boyish beauty as you slept in the sun
Occassionally waking for sips of warming beer from green glass bottles
Your warm honey belly balancing a clever man's novel

And later, in the dark, empty palace of a room, between those ancient stained glass windows and those eternal flowing fabrics,
The boy I knew as endless whispered so softly,
"I think I must be boring"
But I could swear you are a poem breathing life
You are sweet cadence come alive

I can still taste chocolate and wine on your lips
And I feel the laughs from deep in my belly as you crossed your legs and told me stories
I still feel the softness of your hair, the sweat from the tip of your nose
I still see you smiling at me from the far end of the pool
That one dark tooth of yours the only imperfection in sight

I like the clumsy lovers
The boys who don't make every right move
Who don't have slick & tired lines borrowed from tacky romance novels

I like the ones whose clumsy words widen their eyes in disbelief that they could've said such a thing at a time like this

The ones who laugh nervously are heavenly
Making jokes to make up for whatever it is they think they lack
They don't know my laughs are cups of red adoration as they spill from my mouth and onto my pillowcase

I can't help but love you when you stammer as you tell me I'm beautiful, while your eyes trace me as if I'm a private discovery of yours

I love your vulnerability, your nervous hands, your silly jokes, that kind heart and those little smirks

I love how you look into my eyes and say what you mean, beautiful or not

I like the clumsy lovers
Because in the moments you think you're falling apart, I'm falling hopelessly for you
Believe me, clumsy lover, there's something right for me in the way you do things wrong

You were here on holiday, only stopping in on the big move to England
And I was just a lost girl, a little wandering wonder,
And so I was here for 90 days, and I knew you for two

We met in the afternoon in a pub
It was that *****, early 20's, new and a little exciting kind of thing

And you had an instant fan in me
You were smart, you were funny, well-dressed and fairly kind
And you talked about all the stupid things I liked

And I watched your strengths and I wondered if you too saw your weaknesses,
And I loved that you were afraid to cry at the new Star Wars premiere

And so we got a little tipsy, paid the tab and left to find ourselves more sweet, sweet beer at a more reasonable price for two such kids

And so we got drunk on a park bench on €1 beers

And we listened to your scattered songs
And we kissed in those old Spanish streets as if we'd been in young love for centuries
When it had really only been about 3 hours since we'd seen each other first

But it was good, and it was nice, and we both needed it, I think

So the next day we met again
You were just as funny, just as kind, and this time, even more well-dressed, in your smart leather shoes

And we did it all over again on day two
The pub, the beers, the bench, the tacky kisses and the bits of banter

And the next day, you left

But we still keep in touch
And I'd like to see you again
I'm hoping for a day three
I'm a big fan of yours

I see you there,
See-through Girl, barely there

you think you must be yelling

nothing but a whisper

See-through Girl, you live amongst monsters
and the real people question if you or they are even there

See-through Girl,
your world is whispers and monsters
and second bests and blind eyes
last resorts and second rate sins

See-through girl,
see it through the night
and we'll do it all again

i like to dance inside your arms
like a mosquito trapped inside a room

i don't know who's got the stronger grip between us two
but i think you're a little less stuck on me than i am stuck on you

You are a tiger
You crouch and wait to pounce

Hungry for a moment
Hungry to taste it on your tongue
To let it fill your insides

But the moment sees an idea dancing behind your eyes
and breaks out in great, thundering strides
The moment breaks away from you
Crouching there

So pounce
Don't starve yourself

The moment is here to feast upon
So feast

Take off running and clamp your teeth in now

Don't let the moment bleed out
**** it quickly, with gratitude
Let its pure grace soak in to your skin

Taste it
Feast

I have the world
I have touched God
felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead
I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege

and here I stand in the middle of this hot room,
sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt
legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric
covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk
I can smell it souring with my negligence

I stand here sweating, shaking
I repeat
over and over and over
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"

I cannot stop

and my chest will not do me the the honour
to heave with tears and gasps
draining itself of sickness

it is wound like an overcompensating clock
around itself
and collapsing into me
surely
and too quickly

I stand here
I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from,
slowly
like an unkept tap

I need a doctor
my mind has collapsed onto itself
a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards
a feast on what remains

Feed me your lines, about darkness and despair
And the tragedy you claim, that your heart still pumps and your chest still heaves and your eyes still flutter

Oh, give me dark, raw poetry and tell me that my blood is beautiful on bedsheets


Are you sure you want to do that?
The way you lace those black words together puppeteers my hands, tying nooses with the romance of it all

Keep going, tell your fellow crying souls that one dance with the Reaper is greater than what comes without the knife

Hear me just this once:
There are fine lines in life, like fine lines on our wrists, so dance along them carefully, thoughtfully
There is nothing tragically beautiful about my mother finding my cold, dead corpse
Will you romanticize my mother's tears in the moments after she finds me?
Tell me that it's all so beautiful, then?
Are you sure you want to do that?
Do you feel like a literary genius now?

Don't hold my deepest horrors in your hands and fold them into stories

I'm in love with the way the world keeps turning,
and letting me fumble over and over again, back into your arms

I kind of like the way you stumble as you catch me
it's familiar, and it's you
and it's your trembling hands I love

I feel as if the gin is never really the culprit with you and I,
we're ocean waves, meant to crash into each other endlessly

and these four left feet stumble back to dance this silly dance
but I like this silly dance, and it's your trembling hands I love

I've been so old, locked in line by expectations
I forgot that love is a $20 ticket to a punk rock show

Sweaty bodies pushing forward, slamming hard,
falling to fall in love with the words of some yelping, grown-out teenager

And we're all drinking ****** venue beer just because it's dirt cheap
and suddenly I remember that I'm only free with ***** feet
and I come alive in mosh pits and I die when I live for paycheques

We're all dripping beads of sweat, making necklaces from our youth
Tokens of everything we love and shedding everything we hate
We'll sweat it out onto the ***** bar floor
We'll keep going until our legs give out, I swear to it

I've never been more free than when I'm dancing to these songs
I've been so old, forgetting that I'm just a punk rock kid, with $20 in my pocket and ****** beer in my hand
Singing songs that mean something, demand change, ooze with emotion, celebrate divine & dingy moments, make me feel that transgender dysphoria blues

I forgot that this is euphoria
I'm not jaded quite yet
Not in this moment
How dare I be
How dare I?

I want you to hate me

I want you to abhor me, detest me, loathe me
I want you to reel at the thought of me
I want you to think of me   the way I think of myself when I can't bring myself to love you anymore

***** and fallen, see me graceless

Baby, you don't need a stethoscope to see that I'm heartless
All you need are those baby blue eyes
They'll tell you the secret
I don't want you anymore
I can't love you anymore
I can't even meet those baby blue eyes to mine

I*
And i guess,
that there is something more to this,
that we are all a cog in this machine,
and I am a good person with good intentions and good breath

And i guess,
that we all have some kind of purpose,
when I die, I will really, really become something,
and I'm a special little snowflake that'll never, ever melt


II
Forget about global warming, friends, 'cause that's just unpleasant!

Come on, tell me
How's the weather? How's your girlfriend? How many likes did you get?


III
Oh come on, life's not so bad!
Believe me, you're not alone!
OH! Jesus loves you! OH! Jesus loves you!

IV
I wish you'd stop smoking cigarettes
You know what they can do

V
Oh come on,
You know how the news upsets me!
Read: Let's just pretend like they aren't real people
Oh come on, that's not fair.

VI
Let's blame the government!
But then again, we are so blessed, we are so-o-o blessed!

VII
All these causes! All these diseases! All these horrible disasters!
Too much to keep track of! I can't be bothered, I simply can't be bothered!
I am a very busy person with a very stressful life, and I can't be bothered!

Did I tell you? My doctor put me on another set of pills last week, but they're making me gain weight. I've gotta change them again. ******* him. ******* idiot! Doesn't he know? I am a very important person with a very busy life! I can't be bothered!

And I'm a special little snowflake that'll never, ever melt


VIII
And i guess,
that I should listen to my mother
and I should stop smoking cigarettes
'cause Jesus loves me
and it makes him oh-so-sad

I'm standing in the rain
I'm standing barefoot in just a shower towel
My feet are in 5 inches of freezing cold water and I'm thinking of you
Thinking of how the water meets your box in the ground while it falls from the sky
So cold, so cold

And now I'm standing in the rain
Hitting me, hurting me, but it's okay
Maybe it'll wash me clean and scrub the dirt away
Because I'm filthy
I'm a *****, broken mess
And I'm drowning in this moment but I like it this way

I haven't been able to put it into words
Since you left, while I was holding your hand
The last skin you ever felt
I can't look down at my hands
I can't look down at my hands
I can't stop shaking.
And I'm not sure if it's the cold or the memory

And now I'm just waiting to be washed away
Hoping tidal waves will form and carry me to where we buried you
And there I'd like to stay     if you'll have me


There are worms at my feet and I can't bear the truth of it
I'm hoping, praying to no one to be washed away
And I can't look down at my hands

"Curiosity didn't **** me"* said the cat,
*"She just introduced me to the wrong crowd"

Late tonight in this room's dark corner
a mosquito buzzes and hums desperately
frantically looking for light      for precious escape,
the buzzing noise slowly unhinging my own sanity,
and I contemplate standing on the tips of my toes,
balancing myself on cream coloured bedsheets,
and closing my fist around its last vital moments


and suddenly I realize    I couldn't bare to end it all
to do the one thing which could leave me to rest      so,
I'll leave it to fall to solitary madness in the corner

Ha ha ha
I laugh in the night, lonely and hollow
while the wind ******* at my back
"ugly, stupid little girl"
"simple, horrid little *****"

ha ha ha
please keep the ghosts away
they cackle behind my back,
but they won't laugh with me,
my horrid nighttime symphony

ha ha ha
darkness fills my bones

Ain't no tragedy quite like seeing that blood really is thicker than water
dripping on these thin white bed covers

Pardon me in my attempts to shovel through the ******* alone
if only I could read enough books to become the great Athena,
listen to enough Patti Smith so that I could slowly slip into her shadow,
or walk enough paths so as to become so rugged yet feminine as Mother Earth herself

if only I could know all, be all, see all
if only I could accept happiness like I accept sweet kisses,
each always turning sour, anyhow

Ignorant, clueless, helpless, I stand with feet on coals

I want to set off running
preferably before these volcanos erupt
and I'm cloaked in this archaic ash forevermore
Stuck holding fast to a pose so foreign to my own heartbeat

I want to set off running
Arms open to the greenest of leaves
and coolest of falling raindrops
Like a tigress on a mission,
Leaping into certain life

I want to take off running
I want these two feet to carry me somewhere that I don't feel so huge and clumsy, but small, with fingertips cradling grinning vibrations that travel with a touch

I want to take off running
into the pages of science fiction books
onto strange and foreign planets
have their creatures pick apart my stagnant brain
I want to be turned, insides out, by aliens

I plan to run until my legs give out,
until there are no planets, no stars, no more books to host me
until my arms are full with words and wisdoms,
and my lungs collapse, exalted

……..

I always saw a beauty in dried roses
They know they are lifeless, yet they hold
darkening and toughening, beautiful in death
with reds darker still, and romance tangible

Can you imagine that bottle of Canadian whiskey on its last few shots?
And my crouched body and their comfortable nostalgia?

And thoughts of these dark times,
And his dark grave,
And finally a drunk dial to an old friend
Consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and bad, drunken Star Wars references
As if a few Chewbacca jokes can fix this mess

And there's that familiar feeling of almost breaking into tears
And the tough-girl response of "**** this, pass me the whiskey"

And this hammered mess thinks,
I wish I could forget
I wish I could leave the earth
I wish I were Mr. Malachi Constant
And *******, I wish death weren't so ****** final

But then again, I don't think I've ever been alive
No matter how fast my heart has beat
No matter how sentient these moments have made me feel
And no matter how many shots of Canadian whiskey I managed to tackle
I think, like Frankenstein's monster, maybe I was born to be half-alive
While my mind circles back to these dark times, and his dark grave,
and finally a drunk dial to an old friend,
consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and Star Wars references
as if a few shots of Canadian whiskey will bring us all to life

Are you a real boy, now?

I remember the significance of scraped knees and ripped jeans
the feeling of running, running, running, falling and bleeding
Scrapes on my knees were a tomboy signature of mine
The pavement, the gravel, the untrimmed grass, my home

Each time a scabby joint was replaced with a healthy little girl's knee,
I would take off running, running, falling and bleeding

At the time, I didn't know the significance of all this running, falling and bleeding

Then, the other day, on a trip to the garage for some bottles of beer,
I slipped on a patch of ice that sent me reeling and left me face first on the pavement
Knee bleeding through my trousers, I collected my beers and left

I spent the rest of the night drinking beers and taking tequila shots through thick layers of smoke
All while my knee bled through my trousers, stinging, scratching

I woke up to a sensation of pain
My leg refused to straighten itself out without stretching a scab, scratching and stinging, struggling to keep itself together

As the week passes, I cannot stand or sit for too long without my knee struggling to repair lost skin, tightening scars around a bony joint

There is a sensation of pain
And suddenly, I remember the significance of all that running, running, falling and bleeding

It was so good seeing you
Your hair is getting long

But your eyes,
they don't capture me like they did

And your tricks,
they don't fool me like they did

Oh your lips,
they don't meet mine like they did

Do they still taste of coffee?

It was so good seeing you
But I don't miss you like I thought
More fondly than passionately
Though I miss you just as much
And this is all about baby steps, I suppose

But your lips, do they still taste of coffee?

There is something to be said for the way your smile lights up passageways in my heart that have long been darkened

I remember the smell of your soap and the taste of honeycomb cereal and the feel of your soft hands protecting my small hands on the way across the road to my kindergarten classroom

And here today I sit across from you and I want to thank you for every cut you cleaned, and every tear you wiped, and the way you taught me to smile no matter who kicked me down, but I have to remember that you are now someone else

And to you, I am as good as a stranger
To you, we share no memories
No quiet mornings or warm afternoons

And I sit here today and I'm smiling and you're smiling but all is hollow because you cannot place my face in your photo frames of memory and I cannot help but curse myself for letting you get away from me

And these diseases of the mind are the silent terrorists, waging wars on memories and leaving ticking time bombs with tired families

I don't cry
I don't cry
I don't cry

Every Sunday afternoon you spent carving me into the person I am is gone, and I am coming to realize that without your love, this being you forged is wooden and hollow

You mean more to me than anything in the world
But you don't know who I am
I am gone to you

And every Sunday afternoon, I tell you who I am
And you smile and nod, and you're as kind as can be
But you are convinced, you've never met me



I have to smile
No matter who or what kicks me down

it is 2:23 am
the fan is set on high, despite the fact that the weather outside is -20°
fans are good for these sorts of things
white noise
drowning out the silence
the thoughts the beer brings

thoughts of fools in love in coffee shops
and cynics in tears in basement rooms
and once brave men in coffins

the dog chews on a rawhide bone

and I unbraid my hair
untangling each knot with trembling fingers

I undress slowly
removing each piece of clothing like a memory

I put on that shirt I bought for you

I crawl into bed
smearing plum lips and black eyes on an off-white pillowcase

and I think of once great loves of cynics
I think of coffins
I think of you in light blue

She is looking to her lap
While he gets up with hesitation
She is pulling at a run in her floral skirt
His eyes wander to those daisies for a moment
Then he turns,     & takes each step   further        further        FURTHER

"Wait! Will you please just wait?" she screams

"What do you want from me?" his voice screams... shakes.    with confusion,    betrayal,       exhaustion?    

"Please, just wait" she pleads through tears that feel so foreign on her skin

His eyes meet hers, trace her face, continue down to that run in that floral skirt
He has a nature to love, but a right to hate, to hurt, to avenge

"No." he says

And he is gone
And there is no door that leads back into that room, it seems
That room was a moment, and it passed
And it is gone
And he is gone
AND IT DIDN'T WORK
It didn't work
That floral skirt

I don't have the voice for spoken word
It shakes and it s-s-stammers
And I'm not too sure if it's too high or too low
But it's missing something

There's a power that wont pass these lips
And a commanding tone that can't quite rally its troops

This is no smooth, jazz inspired tongue
This tongue has been bitten
There's a metallic feeling of blood and it's pooling into deadweights
So, on this tongue lies a thousand pounds of blood stronger than feeling

And I can't quite get it out
When these words are weighed down,
These feelings sink back into my chest and the metallic taste passes these lips and forms a deadbolt

I don't have the voice for spoken word
It shakes and it s-s-stutters
And I'm not quite sure if it's just an extension of myself
Where the feeling stays inside and the blood collects
And there's always something missing

so that one day


I'll be inadequate in fourteen different languages

Quiet compliance to daylight, loud taunts of haunted night
Demons which crawl, scratches on walls
Darkness the swindler, light the betrayer

Heart knocking, knocking, knocking
Breaths heaving, heaving, heaving

CRACK

Mind, decaying floorboards, one step     collapse

Every time I open The Roominghouse Madrigals,
an estranged part of me comes back with blistered hands and a heart so heavy it's like Wile E. Coyote has it attached to a chain hanging off the edge of a cliff that's beginning to crumble

And every time I open The Roominghouse Madrigals,
a peculiar part of me leaves without warning to wander and turn over some things in its head like I've got multiple personalities and a few years from now it'll return and kick Jane out and insist I am Mary

And every time I open The Roominghouse Madrigals,
There is a deep sorrow within me that I think I mistake for love

But I'm getting ahead of myself-
The Roominghouse Madrigals is a selection of poems by the drunken poet Charles Bukowski
The Roominghouse Madrigals is a selection of poems about sadness, madness, genius and solitude
The Roominghouse Madrigals is                                       a young girl's first broken love

I first fell in love with it on the floor
I first fell in love with it on the floor of the balcony
I first fell in love with it on the floor of the balcony of the book shop
I first fell in love with it on the floor of the balcony of the book shop where I first fell in love

Simply you see, The Roominghouse Madrigals is a selection of poems that washed like rebirth
The first time, the first poem, the Brave Bull, it was a sudden clarity with a taste of joyous drunkenness
That first time, that first poem, the Brave Bull, it was cured amnesia reminding me of all the things I forgot I ever was and a psychedelic mushroom, dressed as a fortune cookie, dressed as a book of poems, that told me what I would be, and so I became it

And if reincarnation is real maybe the world's so messed up because it's the same group of idiots being born over and over again to be raised by the idiots they raised

Because the first time I opened The Roominghouse Madrigals,
I tasted life and death simultaneously

And I keep it near to my heart but not near to my bed should anyone find it and think I'm a perverted and miserable girl who can't help but fall apart every time she mouths the words some dead drunk poet weeped into a keyboard with curses crashing into black keys like those tears, still warm & ever so salty
But I am and I do and I keep it near to my heart      like a first broken love

Don't underestimate how little i can do
don't underestimate how easy i can break

tough isn't a jean jacket and black boots
lipstick doesn't mean **** yet strong
running away doesn't mean my lungs can take it
never looking back really don't mean a thing

don't overestimate me
i'm a real good liar but i ain't good for much else

He had memorized the shape of her *** roughly 6 months before he knew the colour of her eyes

Because you see, he likes her principally for her ***, naturally
And the logical thought process here would be that: this is because he likes himself so much
and he's such a perfect *** himself (the poster-boy for narcissism)
or maybe, he's just thinking with the wrong head
presumably, both

Because what are friends for?

I'm sorry
and simple
and stupid

These philosophies and novels and metaphysical equations dance over me and I reach up to grab them, and they smile and let me hold them for a while
Until their heat becomes too hot and I must let them go
Until next time

And personally, I have a lack of fantastical words and beautifully stringed stanzas
to express these infinitely genius ideas and expressions and equations
that I like to watch dance, starry and complex in the simplest of ways

Personally, I am simple and stupid
And I will write entire trash heaps and garbage dumps
In the passing time
Until my burns have healed and I can once again play
With the worthwhile legions of the dead, still greater than I

Did you know that these sun rays on your skin are thirty-thousand years old?
Nor did I

Firstly, I'd just like to say: *******.


*******.
*******.
*******.
*******, *******.

You are the only ******* one who knows a ******* thing about me
You are the only one who I ever believed really loved me

*******.

Did you really think that after all these years and all this-- that because I wasn't going to be yours-- that you could leave me?
Don't you understand,
Just because I'm better alone and ****** up
Doesn't mean you can leave me?

And everyone here thinks I'm a total ****-up
And the ones who stick around just think that I'm funny or they like the idea of me & bedsheets and I hate them for it
      Backwards and ****** up and completely too emotional,        do you miss me?

      ******* and I miss you.


I wanted to tell you,       my favourite person in the world can't remember my name anymore
She's spent the last month that you've spent forgetting everything about me, trying to remember anything about me

I wanted to tell you,            because you once would mend these things
Now it seems you're the one hammering the nails in


I'm exhausted now but under my breath I'm still muttering,      slowly, "*******."

You're the only friend I ever had and now you take my soft-spoken,     heart-broken,     tear-soaked apologies and you say,      "*******."?


Here and now I'm utterly alone in the dark      thinking of all the times you saved me from it
And how you just left     because I couldn't love you     like we both wanted me to

Of all people and things,      I never thought you'd be my executioner

The floor is dr i i i pping black tar and the air is the bottom of a grease trap
the wind outside sounds... heavy.
it seems air has lost its weightlessness and now everything is being pulled
d
    o
       w
          n

and i look at that typed cliché and i think
"there's no other way"
because weight reigns and it's so heavy it pulls
and structure and pause mean more than what's been said before because   what hasn't?

Feels like i'm pacing back in forth in my mind but i can't help but stumbling
and every time i do, i end up sat on the ground of my consciousness hugging my knees thinking STOP.

because they told me only a belief in their God can get me into heaven but listen,      i don't even believe in myself

and I'm sorry but may your **** ******* you for being so irreverent to my irrelevance
and I whisper to myself, ******* him for being so ego-centrical    that even now when i can't believe in anything I'm waiting for a lightening bolt to strike me down because I question old teachings
and I get it

Listen, I see the good and the bad
the yin and the yang of the Christian dimensions

Listen, I get it

but do you think hell is dark?

because the light's been giving me these sickening migraines and I break every time
yes i  b r e a k  every time
so leave me in the dark
so i stay as whole as i can while i'm here

but listen, i know i could use your prayers
because if he's up there
he should know i don't fear the light
it just plays tricks on civilizations
and i never trust a magician

I miss those days
The days you were so pure and divine
Not because no one had touched you
But because you'd only been touched by someone who loved you

You were so lighthearted and
You never said things like, "Its fine, I'm numb to it now"

You were so pure and divine
That's the kind of beautiful you were
Before those men broke your heart

And now they call you "tragically beautiful"
Because they don't want to break you any further
But they do
They do

I was an idiot last year
but I liked that idiot better
Just know I'm still clinging to the tablecloth
Where the wine spilt
I'll try to get it out but you know I'm useless
And sweetness
Is lost on me

Where do you think we're gonna be,
twenty years from now?
when I'm a deadbeat daughter
and you're a drunken *******

and if I'm being honest, I don't really care
I just wanna be where your light is,
I wanna be where you face the dark,
I don't care, I could break down anywhere

'Cause I don't think we broke each other,
I think we broke ourselves

and I'll be Zelda, you be Scott
and I'll paint and dance ballet
and I'll watch you destroy yourself
while I'm wasting away

as long as I'm,
your deadbeat girl

My dear, just stop
will you breathe for a moment?
stop writing lists of what you have yet to do
turn down the radio, put your bills on hold
don't fret about these college degrees and potential promotions

will you just stop?
take some time, breathe the air that scares you
as if free time makes you high on some terrifying hallucinogenic drug
darling, take some time,
just think
look at the anthills, think of what's there
look up to the stars, imagine what's more

please, I beg you
just take a minute
to scare yourself to death
to appreciate life
to set aside all they tell you to believe, to be
if college and an office job is the life for you, live it
if not, don't let them tell you that's how it is to be
you are not a brick inlaid without potential for motion,
you are the Northern lights
you shine
you move
you dance, brighter than the darkness would allow

just take a moment
please just ask why
ask, why am i doing this?
why am i saying this?
why do i believe this?
why do i live like this?

and if the answers suit you, let it be
and if not, break out running like a deer who's escaped the trap

live. please do anything you can,
why not?

i hear you whisper my old tunes, like that dreaded broken record,
"what's the point of trying to be happy when we all end up dead anyways?"
dear, would you ever let a newborn pup in the fighting ring just because one day it will inevitably see its end?

darling you deserve the world,
it is yours
with the stars in the sky and the potential for life
with the ants and the termites, we are alive
we are but condensation waiting to make waves

my dear, just stop
just breathe for a minute
wondrous is the universe
let us be wondrous with it

For gory guys and glamour ghouls

The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like

The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance

O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love       We are the World's rejected kin

The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious

In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunken, red-handed        by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards        and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more

*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken

I let you slip through my fingers
As every day yours began to slim
And the puzzle pieces that fit perfectly began to float away like melting ice caps under the Alaskan sun
And I wanted to hold you a little longer
But all the while I felt you absorbing into death like spilt coffee in a washcloth
And bit by bit I watched the sand of your hourglass slide to its end

You always told me you couldn't be scared because heaven was real and you kicked the devil sideways years ago
And for your sake I hope he stayed down, and for your sake I hope you were right
But these days it feels like he's standing up, holding his side, coming back for revenge
He's got his pliers out and he's coming for my soul and I'm kicking I'm fighting I'm screaming
But I'll never be as strong as you and I never learned how to keep afloat of my own sin
So now I'm sinking

And I sit and listen to them speak in artificial intelligence
And wonder how they've kept the devil down
Do they stand on his back and scream "You can't have me now"
Or has he just lost interest like I have?

When all sounds are lost and I've made enough tissue paper thin excuses to stay alone for a few hours, I picture your smile, cloaking me like warm candlelight
But you know the wind came years ago and now it's a flickering warmth
I remember your fingers, skeletal now
And I hope you were right
I hope our slender fingers meet one day
But for now I will feign strength and grind my fears to dust with a mortar and pestle
And for the time being
I cannot look at my own hands
For fear that they be bloodstained

One for the pain
two for the madness
one for the grief
one to sleep

It adds up
as it breaks you down
but it means well
it means to stand in place for all the missing pieces of you
but the truth is it can't

this cracked foundation
is patched up
with crumpled newspapers bathed in toxic ink

they mean well
the one for the pain
the two for the madness
the one for the grief
and the one to sleep

but the truth is
the ground is breaking
I was founded in swamp

The gods gave you these feet to run, run, run. Walk, stumble, fall. Stand.
The gods gave you these feet to break, to heal, to wander all your days

When your pretty face holds those bright eyes to the ground,
Walk, walk, walk
They can't take that from you

This dirt road has been travelled
But these grass roots are waiting for you

When these feet can take no more, the gods will call you home
Still but ever-moving,
You are the wanderer
The gods wait to meet the hands that match those feet

*******
I feel better than I have in so long
Just while everything's going wrong

But how can anything go right if it never went wrong?
Every right turn that should've been a left makes me smile
Every brush stroke that should've been a charcoal smudge,
It's a dream come true

Holy ****
My grandma just turned ninety years old
I swear she's the most fantastic person I've ever met
She's been pushed down so many times and she still smiles

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

****, I'll dance in the rain if I want to
That might be why I'm always sick

And I'll be a ******* ****-up if that's what you wanna call it
Broke and stupid, sick and impulsive, but *******, I'M SMILING

Everything's gone so wrong
But when I stopped singing to the rain, commanding she go away,
I ******* danced and loved and lived (whatever that is)
And even my demons danced and even my ghosts chuckled
And *******, so many wrong turns led me to the hurricane coast
And it's the best place, and the blessed place, where I can't help but smile

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Because intentions can only cry so loudly
Like bluebirds can only fly so high
And like thankfulness becomes forgetfulness
Like a paper flutters in the wind and disappears

We cry, "Lest we forget"
But what we seem to forget is to remember
We must chose to hold on and hold our breath
A shock to our system to prevent choice by inaction
A choice to forget

Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Bluebirds can only fly so high,
But they will soar with nostalgic wing beats
So long as they remember the way home

The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like

The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance

O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love       We are the World's rejected kin

The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious

In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunk and red-handed        by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards        and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more

*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken

Here lies the bottom line of your existence:

Chemicals
Organs
Nerve endings
Fluids

Dust dust dust
An eventual nothing

There are only so many poems to write about heartbreak
only so many ways to say "I love you and I hate you"

Only so many ways to personify the Night and hold her accountable
for the thoughts she shoves down one's throat, fear-dripping and cold

There are only so many ways to reach out in metaphors
desperately grabbing at any emotions their words might stir

There are only so many poems to write about being a stupid kid
with a mixed-up head and a heaving heart
with a cynical mind and a disappointed shout
and only so many ways to cry it out

Only so many half-smoked cigarettes and sweet perfumes
Only so much room for oxygen tanks and desperate goodbyes
It's getting crowded here with heavy clothes and defeatist tones

But there are so many of these murky nights
and only so many ways to get by

you knew I loved that song
because it was all about ******* up
******* up repeatedly
which was all either of us ever did
so you played that song
you played it loudly
and you taunted me

but we both ****** up
we both ****** up repeatedly

and you walked around in that black shirt
the one I bought you for your birthday
when things were good
and you still called me "sweetheart"

you wore it because you knew
just how much I loved the way it looked on you

you had more birthdays
and more gifts
and more loves
but you let that black shirt tumble dry
and you wore it all the time

and I wore my hair the way you liked it
and I wore your favourite clothes
and sang your favourite songs

and you hated me like I hated you
while that song played in the background

and you wore that black shirt, fading grey
and I grew my hair long
and you hated me like I hated you
while we picked at our scabs like school kids

I'm sorry for my poetry
I'm sorry it isn't about coffee stains
On lace tablecloths

I'm sorry I don't have little anecdotes
About our shy and awkward love
Or his fearless mouth

I'm sorry the lipstick is always faded
The metaphors are sloppy, stumbling drunks
And the skies are never blue enough
I'm sorry about my poetry
I'm sorry for my poetry

I'm so, so sorry
Please just let me cry it out
I swear I'll clean it up

The problem with creation is it comes from destruction
One life created is only another destroyed

See, a delicately engraved chest is just a gutted tree
Like diamond rings are just contemporary slave drivers

Long and lovely road trips are but poisonous gases
Like gourmet dinners are pesticides and animal bones

These books and beautiful words are murdered worlds
(And a poem is just a dead part of the soul)

But I guess that's just for cynics
I guess the darkness doesn't haunt us all
(And it isn't always the Circle of Death that revolves)

O, you blessed creatures, do you really mean to say
You aren't at all plagued by the morbid fall?