It’s a constant battle between gold and stone in my chest.

One likes to hold a sword to the dark with the whole city at his back.

The other makes warning bells of paper mâché .

Where I come from we’re mostly dare devils.

We cook food on open flames next to a gas tank and race on bridges with no rails. Only one of those is real.

My mind sometimes seems like a doll house made of old computer processors. Attempt 79.

Most days I try to keep my lips zipped shut but my eyes are like a see through body bag.

On other days music tends to be good enough superglue for broken masks.

I remember the first time time froze and my heart tried to handwrite on the ice.

I tried to draw her attention with the broken lead pencils I have for lips but I’ve never been a fine artist.

We haven’t spoken in a while, I guess making new friends is easy but keeping old ones is hard. 
There’s overgrowth on the road less travelled and it’s hard to find.

And when I feel down for following the crowd, I use poetry as a pendulum to help my mood swing.

I want that iridescent color, the kind that blinds
Fixing appearances to a crumbling ash
Stuck together with glue
A coveted silhouette

Empty.

I want the table set neatly.
As if there were no monsters hiding underneath it
As if I actually ate food there
Neatly stacked and divided

Becoming.

I want the world to smile at me, eyes forced shut
Wandering without direction
Currency in perpetual regurgitation
Locked and loaded

Security.

I want that iridescent color, the kind that blinds.
Hold my jaw shut like the hues aren't already bleeding out.
To see the reflection I've been conditioned to forget.

Truth.

-z0

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.

you
brave and foolish soul
found me here
followed into
my impossible labyrinth
to battle with glowing torch
the demons

the fanged savages
those howling monsters
that take me into
their chest
bind me up in their fury
til my jaws rage
and claws strike
deep into your
earnest heart

and only after the damage has
run its burning course
will they drop me
the fire flickering away from my hollowed eyes
and i will see
your tears
and i will
press
my scarred
forehead
to your
quivering feet
and
with what is left of my agony
dragging itself from the ruins of
what is left of my soul
beg for a forgiveness
that you had
already
given
even before
i ceased
to be
myself.

It’s just



because now
the ants were never in my head until
then and these cogs need lubricating
too whirring in faster agitation.

Now I want.
in four years time there
will be four years placed here
again, now.

It’s just



if I remembered you and of
your mural I

can’t imagine not sitting
in the kitchen on
the floor, now.

Now, the similar
scene in
“Mona’s” bed
room.

(I do not
know Mona.
I did not
meet Mona that
night.)

It’s just



Now there isn’t
a cure for
the

spine warmth you
gave me

and the base
of my neck is

on fire.

My collarbone was damp cotton
as shuddering turned to heaving
and his limp neck sighed.
I figured the only advice
I could give was my
favorite handkerchief
and the repeated whispers of
“It’s going to be all right. It’s okay.”

In the artic air the puddle
on my shoulder
froze over and my coat wouldn’t
stay put without the silk
sliding around and folding
into origami cranes
that were pecking at my
head, asking incessantly
as to why I didn’t stay
in the garage and help
him on his half-finished

car. His heart was breaking
and for the rest of the
night my shirt was wet and cold.

I filled your veins with water and wrote you down on white paper so I didn't have to read you back anymore. Girl's got a suicide pact across the pacific and all I can do is taste the dust.
2. There is a certainty in the way your body moves out time with itself when you think too much.
3. You told me you wanted to be a saint but you were too afraid of the sight of god. When you asked what belief tasted of they told you: fresh buttercream and a wasp's sting. We didn't see you for days.
4. There is a certain tension and it only exists between the bends of girl's legs and the concrete which holds them stronger than any arms could.
5. I want to run every cliche by you and watch you hold hands into the night with it instead of me.
6. Some people can be replicated entirely out of candle wax.
7. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO ******* SELF AWARE ALL THE TIME. You can't even watch yourself.
8. You know you're a halfway house of cells and who are you to say I can't keep up?
9. Say would you tell me if I was just a little off key?
9. Would you tell me the answers to the questions I never asked?
9. Would you play that evening differently if you could turn back the hands that bind you?
10. I burnt you a bridge and sent you the fire like we could ever fill a room with your god. I want to ask him what he thinks of our sins.
11. There is a fluidity in the way your words turn back on themselves.
11. There is a fluidity in the way you turn back on yourself.
11. There is a fluidity in the way people leave doors open for you.
12. I don't think I'd even know what to say to you if I saw you.
13. I only feel comfortable on even numbers.
13. I guess I made myself an odd number.
13. I don't know what we're left with.
13. This is not how we were supposed to end up.
14. I wish you could see the holes you left in the back of my throat.
15. Loving you was as easy as leaving the lights on.
16. And that walk to your parents house was a floodlit symphony like you capitalised every word of every passage I wrote about you with
17 reasons to stay.
And 18 to leave.

The first was the last time I shook like a guard rail and you were a concrete staircase, and I swear, I ain't never seen nothing like you yet.
The second: my fist on your name. But I am here now, like a lit splint bursting into flames, you won't ever find a ghost like me again babe.
The third. And you just want to **** everything. I said you just want to **** everything in your Berlin Wall house.
Your girl's got a bullet hole for a mouth and when it rains, it really does pour round here.