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twelve caesuras Oct 2014
i would rather sit stale at the back of your empty pantry than once again rummage through mine, looking for colorful candies that i associate with the taste of my soul and continued damage to my sobriety.
you could forget about me, i wouldn't mind. i could sleep there and wake up, listen to you shuffle through the kitchen in the early morning. i would be admittedly jealous of your coffee, warm in your hands and keeping you awake. pumping through your veins.
dissolving into you.

i could be that can of soda that you opened at the beginning of summer and left outside for three months. the one you said was an experiment.
if you peel off my layers, i could be brilliant, but i'd go flat for you. i'd blow holes in my limited happiness so you could see through it like a telescope to gaze at whatever so compelled you.
maybe, just a little, i hope you want to gaze at me.

you could just open me once, and see me bubble up.
watch me go flat.
twelve caesuras Oct 2016
all the branches of the trees started at the same place and i was all emerald jewels wrapped in blue velvet while she was amber steamed in grape leaves and she was teaching me how to count in turkish and i joked and said my gender was an angry swarm of bees and i fell asleep on her shoulder and felt her stroking my hair through my dreams
twelve caesuras Nov 2016
you are lovely in the light diffused by the clouds
like bruises on an orange creamsicle,
wind playing games with our hearing:
i think i have always known you, it sings, its voice a syncretism of
yours and mine

the trees die extravagant deaths and autumn is both the murderer and the funeral procession, and i
can't help but laugh every time you say you've never felt weather this cold—wait until you kiss me, i think
because you are a desideratum of a desiduous tree, and i am
some kind of plummeting, some kind of fall
twelve caesuras Apr 2014
black, bleak
disappearing
underground and
going deeper
winding, narrow
uneven staircases
into the abyss

my faith is
subterranean, and my sight is
obstructed, abstracted as i
stagger through on
the rugged ground of
divine creation
brain waves rivaling
a tsunami

epileptic

i place conviction  in the
novel things in life
but paper burns so easily,
so brightly and
it is hypnotizing
to watch
your certainties smolder
anticlimactically
turn to ash and
become godless

this is the cistern,
where turning back is
walking
forward, and any
light you think to bring
is swallowed by the void
while the godhead turns away
in disdain,

and the substanceless spirits are singing la la la
while the others are just
staring and
limbless
270
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
270
advice
never want a
love like
stars
and don't call it
burning and
passionate
because
most stars we see
are not there
and haven't been for a
long
time
they've died
out and what
we see are
ghosts,
after images of what
was once beautifully
burning and
we reach
out desperate for
something
that could
keep us warm
even if it
singed off our eyebrows
and left marks
around our
necks

but i was always fine with being a little chilly

i wanted to
be an astronaut
as a kid and i
stared
up at the sky i
didn't want
to be a princess
that had to be saved by some
attractive piece of—
and anyway
i didn't
mind
going to that
breathless state of
being to
prove them all
sowrongsowrongsowrong even
if they'd hate
me for it:
i mean,
if i didn't want
love
what
else was there?

and then i had a star-shaped sticker slapped on to the back of my neck and my heart fell out from the impact

it was so
scalding that i
sat there panting
in the corner
with my clothes torn off
love was the most
disgusting
feeling
i'd ever had
the displeasure of
coming across
i was always
sick to my
stomach
my mind was blank
half of the
time and
frankly
i think the reason i
don't remember most of it
is
because my head was
shoved so far
into the toilet that
i missed a fair
amount

then the
heart that'd
left my chest found
its way
onto my sleeve
but that's
where a lot of the
blows landed
twelve caesuras Apr 2014
i could offer no tithes
yet you
welcomed me to your
sacred shrine

you are
my temple
i idolize you,
the inquisition be ******

i devote my continuation to
forging a minuscule path
to conclude a story an apparition called you
left unfinished
under the fireworks

such are the aspirations of the godless

this is the
basilica,
where i worship the one
in whom i found
a new pulse
body
anima

i cannot say that i was
created in your image,
but i wouldn't
be opposed to it because you
were
the most beautiful thing the earth
ever had the pleasure to
embrace,
never let go

and some day i
shall meet you on the altar
31
twelve caesuras Dec 2014
31
one year ago, a great man died
his blood flows through my veins with pride
he sits upon the clouds up high
lighting up the deep blue sky.

so far so good, so good so far
a little tune on the sax, a couple strums on guitar
i'd always gotten taller, he was always sitting down
he'd always kept the king james version around.

upon his shoulders as a little girl
i saw the brightest bright sides of the whirling world
and though sometimes the darkness comes
he said sometimes you've got to wait for the sun.

one year ago, a great man died
sacramento, california at 4:45
and though he didn't get to see the sun rise
i know it was reflected in his big brown eyes.
for grandpa.
thank you. thank you. i love you.
6
twelve caesuras Feb 2015
6
glitch.
won't live past twenty six at the pace you're shifting, at this point you'll fall from grace, just keep drifting. i don't care about this weight you're lifting. just fill your plate and start existing.

exist?
what makes you think i want to start? i've played the games. i've done my part. you're all the same, you don't act on head, you act on heart. try exploring rationale. if i want to stop, then stop i shall. don't begin to pretend that you ever cared because when you were laughing, i was there. life ain't no ******* crystal stair.


stair.
i saw you at the top once, you were smiling. you grinned and giggled at the little things. i don't ever see you in that place. you have the resignation hidden under your solemn gaze. you might be stuck between heaven and hell, but either way i want to help.

help?
give me a break. i know the exact steps i have to take but that's not a journey that i plan to make. where are you when i start to quake? when you get this way, there is no motivation. your mind goes blank from soul starvation. you lay in wait for your life's cessation. when they ask you how you feel, you learn about improvisation. i guess you've realized that you've got a death on your conscience so you're trying to fix me with this half-assed nonsense.


nonsense.
what's nonsense is that you won't accept my aid. you can't deny this when i found your blades. i found your lighters. i found some insightful self-help writers. i know you say that talk is cheap but you can't spend your entire life just listening in your sleep. so stop dreaming of skyscrapers and guns and spend your life out in the sun.

*sun?
the sun doesn't shine on any cell of mine so don't you dare try to lecture me on who or what i need to be because you were never ******* there for me. when i was writhing on the ground i don't think i saw your smoke around so take this **** and get out of my face because you'll never see me at that top-of-the-stairs place. i don't care at all for crystal steps. all i want is a pistol and death.
there are six people inside of me and i hate them all. so i'll keep taking out bricks until the tower falls. perhaps when that happens they'll finally get the hint: i don't have much to say with a mouth full of lint.
:::::::
based on three conversations i have had with three figures of "authority" over the past two years.
aa
twelve caesuras Apr 2014
aa
when did it get loud enough for the peanut gallery to shut their ******* mouths (i hope you develop an allergy, you critical *******) and strain their ears against the white noise?
and
when was it that my throat became so raw that my voice refused to hold down the masses?
aa
aA
AA
AA
clipped rips and snips at the larynx

quietly down, quietly down, the feathers found their way
***** and citrus-flavored soda deserves a content shout

or the crazy ones, with no shoes but ten blankets hobbling around the frozen streets...

uncommitted completely, completely
those lonesome vagabonds
twelve caesuras Sep 2014
A COMET'S TRUE DESTINATION*

nothing short of desperation,
living like an imitation
a hated king's reincarnation
today's hate in glowing pixelation
today's hate looks like death's flirtation
cope with constant inebration
these eyes give empty implications

these eyes once saw with fascination
gazed happily at starstruck creations
listened to crap pop radio stations
had plenty of useless aspirations
did homework at the end of vacation
could do those mental calculations
these eyes now see the world's damnation

each smile is a fabrication
these curves are ones of great starvation
this poetry stinks of depravation
you can hear it in every conversation
describes life's expropriation
fill your lungs, reverberation
blank soul body inhabitation

each gesture is an accusation
slow it down acceleration
heavy thoughts, the day's cessation
feel the pain's alleviation
watch them wither, this speculation
each sigh is an obliteration
the birth of a hindered generation

see me stagger, indignation
wait for the fall with anticipation
i am my own violation
open armed to isolation
white walls, live incarceration
black sky dehumanization
this is a comet's true destination:

a baron land with no salvation
twelve caesuras Feb 2015
we
are the thesaurus bound terms and phrases
synonymous to being lost and losing everything
and losing everything and getting lost trying to find some pale, fading fragment of it.

you
are broken mirrors and cigarette smoke and
the image after the reflections die, shades of everything
bouncing off the walls and everything taking the walls down
and the light bending inside of you is blinding but i want to see you.

i*
want to amble through your pages
the ones with missing words and new plagues and ink splatters
fill in better words where i know they fit because some day i'll read you, devour every word.
one time i thought of you
and since then i haven't stopped.
i will lose everthing

but i refuse to lose you.
i will take you in fragments
twelve caesuras Sep 2016
within the small cavities of my sun-bleached bones dwell ghouls and goblins that
wear your face.

the obsidian tunes they grumble from disuse are reminiscent of some strange incantation
circled by salt and sage and chalcedony.

abraxas tought me arithmetic and wrote jade beneath my skin
on a naked nape
did he sign his name with new colors.

i heard peculiar whispers in my sheets last night,
for i am haunted
by ills that are not mine to take to bed.
twelve caesuras Jan 2015
i want to memorize every curve of your frame
and the synthesis between your body and the silences
between the letters of your name
i don't know what souls are made from but i swear
ours were made the same.
you are making me feel again
twelve caesuras Apr 2016
so this       is
       what        it's
                                    like
to feel alive.       i

                             don't                believe

     we'll

be                 meeting           for
            quite


                    some          time.
twelve caesuras Dec 2016
you can wait for the sun to rise
or you can seek it with every atom of your existence
until the soles of your shoes have been torn off by the asphalt
and you reek of salt, and intention, and purpose.
you can look for a cure in the same bottle
where you found the poison, or
you can shatter the bottle, take one of the shards
and cut out the tumor that formed in your chest, then
mail it to the person that gave it to you, along with a list of
grievances that include the hospital bill.
you can dig a ditch six feet under the ground, put on your sunday best
and rub yourself over with mud,
or you could politely show your enemies the bottom of it,
and the health benefits of shutting the hell up.
you can hate yourself,
or you can realize that the only reason you do
is because your mother raised you to be weak,
so you can look her in the eye
as you break all of your bones, laughing.
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
sometimes i wonder about how to make a constellation
on those dark nights where the sky unveils its hidden treasures
connecting the dots? is existing that easy?

those dark nights, when i sat outside and watched my breath strive for that starry sky

this universe of red strings intertwining us unavoidably
fate or destiny, whatever sounds better to you
ties us all together in a way we'd like to challenge with safety scissors

safety scissors and blind faith

every ounce of joy gained
only adds to the weight of the tragedy
is this echoing feeling of repentance

from me or you?

i have to stop walking
letting myself being dragged forward
i have to stop walking every once in awhile and

i ask myself, where is the world going?

rain clouds behind my eyes and thunder shaking my temples
i thought about those things daily
when those cold months of summer passed by like nails on a chalkboard

those cold months
twelve caesuras Nov 2014
because i eat my words like a hearty meal
and ***** them out when no one is watching
i cut myself open because i want someone to
sew me back together, i don't care how haphazard the
stitching is as long as they make me alright

because i listen to the analog clock tick away the seconds
of my life, it kills me, you **** me, i **** me, for i am analogous to
wasted times and wasted lives, and potential being wasted on
the easier things, and being wasted

because i can't tell if the scratches on the wall are mine or
the demons trying to break through, burn themselves into
my skin, though they might have been there for a long time
i tried to get better, but better doesn't come for some

because the sweet-tasting wind blows and flowers grow on others but
tornadoes twist and i stay alone, a decomposing forest i call home
slivers of a silver soul, drowned and drowning gold in chrome

because i unravel like the strings
that hold together all of my things
i want someone to sew me back together, i
don't care how haphazard the
stitching is as long as
they
make me alright
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
they call me amnesia because i forgot the innocence
all the noises in my head are singing, in a sense
i have never heard a sound in the white room
but the shadows tug on my walls, "let us join you"
i can swallow blackened fear
but i swear i cannot hear
the words that you've brought
it seems i have forgot.
twelve caesuras Oct 2014
minute 1
if the stars are the eyes of god,
smoldering and passionate in
an immovable zone, then maybe
you are much more divine than
i already believed you to be.
i am writing this poem to make
you aware that you are one of those
wonderful feelings that everyone gets
but no one can describe, that makes
me think of a clear sky over a deep
green mountain or the sun shining
through the surface of the ocean.

minute 3
i could kiss you any time of day
but supernovas are best seen at night.

minute 4
you could take me in your hands
and fold me into a paper airplane,
throw me into the sky and i'd soar
desecrate the clouds and give you a taste.
or maybe open me, and open me,
and file through me, dog-ear your
favorite pages, i could be an atlas
make you wanna go places.

minute 6
sometimes i think that there is something else,
like familiar oceans have foreign counterparts,
like we aren't the only ones living
and falling.

minute 7
if i were to have 26 seconds left in my life,
i am almost positive that i would ask you to
show me a chrysanthemum and
quickly, quickly, feed me a cheeseburger.

minute 9
runners have the most epiphanic moments!
today, i saw a maple leaf flittering to the ground
and i realized that i loved you!

minute 10**
when i have 26 seconds left in my life,
i hope i am holding your hand, looking into
your pools of hazel gold, and you are telling me
that even though it took me forever to find the
place our date was supposed to be,
you still love me,
i am still beautiful.
twelve caesuras Oct 2014
at the end of those slim fingertips
florid skin, these flushed sins
are an attack on morality and
two steps closer to a placebo to immortality /
clothed in the heavy weight of those
very necessary things called lies
lean into your steady form as you
peel every layer off
and then i am bare /
the melody made by our
feet slamming against the pavement
and the breathlessness that follows devoutly
is the soundtrack of the i am tired of chasing you
chain of thoughts /
chained to you, i am, i am,
to your shimmering body and your
glittering laugh /
the song of our chase is accompanied by
my heart beating out of control and
this endless dizziness that you bring me /
you **** me very slowly,
and i love you for it,
and i love you...
twelve caesuras Dec 2014
AND
THOUGH
WE DWELL
IN
SHADOWS
|
|
|
|
tell me about
every nightmare you have ever had and i
will **** them all, make you see
undiscovered colors instead
we will be doing things other than dreaming
under the waves
of this ocean of a bed
|
|
|
i make dreams happen
but nightmares taste so much better
and sometimes i have to make the darkness come
or else the sun rises early and the only things
you are ******* are your forefinger and
thumb

|
|
sing to me
a language that the gods and the
beasts know best
i will take you places,
going east of eden to stir the silence of the west
|
so close your eyes and breathe
because, darling,
we will be dancing at the bottom of the sea

|
and two eyes blink open
two bells twinkle
the sea meets the sand and
makes semi-circles of foam
the earth is my bed but the night is my home
|
|
make love to me as the stars collide
******* for peace or to put me to pieces
i will wish on every meteorite
for the world to end like this every night

|
|
|
i can make your heart quake
and all i have to do is lick my lips
but you know i'd love to do much more,
and that's why the beads are strung like this:
every gaze births an eclipse
|
|
|
|
AND
THOUGH
WE DWELL
IN
SHADOWS
part 1: saltwater taffy  / they know the summer
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
and your words,

"i will be with

you for every lightning

strike and

lonely tremble,”

i whisper and

watch as the wind disperses

it

the breaths i like

to take now are

the ones where

i breathe in so

much air that

it’s almost like i’m

suffocating.

i can’t

breathe alone

the cicadas chirping

in the summer heat remind me

of that time
you told me that i

had a 
laugh like stars. but

now

the sky is

dark here

i wonder if

you can see me

from your

grassy mountaintop

so high in the

clouds because

in my head i

can see you:

that goofy smile

on your face

aimed at the
sun
your eyes gazing at

something higher
as you outstretch your
arms and embrace the
sky

when i hear

bells ringing from

speedy

green

bicycles i

i can’t help

but remember when
i sat on your

handlebars,

afraid,

while you pedaled

so hard to

the top of our hill

and told me
i was alright

now i am

colored indigo with

silence and

all the worried faces that

came to check on me

have realized a

lost cause so

the phone has

stopped

screaming

the ice in the freezer

is cold, so cold as

it slides down my 
throat and

chills my bones

once a month i

walk down the

unpaved road near

that shabby house we share and

i walk and

walk and

walk

eleven miles

no shoes

****** feet and

no matter how much

pain i will keep walking

because your words

"my bare feet can

carry me anywhere

if you

are the destination”

i echo as i walk

and walk and

walk eleven miles

to come meet you



i bring a bouquet

of dried dandelions since

you told me they’re

misunderstood because even

though they’re weeds, they bloom

that sun

for a time

you told me

that when you go

you want your gravestone

to be a bench because you want to chat so

once a month i

cut up my feet i

rip weeds from the ground

i

sit on your moss-covered bench

i ask you

how you’re doing



and your words,

"i will be with

you for every lightning

strike and 
lonely tremble,”

i repeat

between the sea

bleeding from my eyes

and watch with blurry vision

as the wind

steals it away
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
no otherworldly force like gravity or magnetism will bring me any closer to you
i have a red snow that flutters endlessly across the days
a new emptiness weaves its way through
i can only orbit from afar in a transuniversal daze.

i have a red snow that flutters endlessly through the days
it hurts to stare but i cannot take my eyes off of your heat
i can only orbit from afar in a transuniversal daze
and think about all the rocks i'll eat.

it hurts to stare but i cannot take my eyes off of your heat
your image will forever be singed into my slowly turning mind
as i think about  all the rocks i'll eat
i can't help but notice when you're gone it's snowing all the time.

your image will forever be singed into my slowly turning mind
a new emptiness weaves its way through
i can't help but notice when you're gone it's snowing all the time
no otherworldly force like gravity or magnetism will bring me any closer to you.
twelve caesuras Sep 2014
(perhaps birds fly so low to the ground because they want to feel the rush of almost dying—and then soaring

or maybe they're just mocking us)

on death,
i believe it is best to die young
when your soul is still new and ugly and your physical beauty casts shadows over that hideous spirit,
and you didn't have enough time to make very bad decisions
but i am a poet, after all

(did you know your shoulder blades are the closest thing you'll ever have to wings? it's like that eternal entity couldn't decide what kind of monster to make us

so he gave us a little bit of everything, just not enough)

i wonder if, from space, the earth at night looks like a ball of smoking stars

(if there's a difference between the world as we see it and how it actually is, and we will never know the latter, couldn't we just depend on photographs?

and a house of mirrors)

on life—well, i tried to read up on nietszhe and kant,
but it was incredibly dull, something like god is dead and living is sublime,
perhaps one of those statements are true
but i am a poet, after all
so maybe i'm not really living in the first place

(there is a word that makes me think of he and i, it sounds like a can of coke and tastes like cloudy skies,

so dream about the possibility of finding us)

if i were a bird i'd forget the ground i'd live in the sky and drink it with every meal and for desert i'd eat a cloud or two
every night i would watch the sky turn into a kaleidoscope and spread my wings and cut through the air to be alongside it

(my, my, how we are spinning, this universe-wide dizziness is such a disorienting one that we have changed our default orientation to bewilderment

it is never easy to fly when you cannot see your destination)
twelve caesuras Jun 2014
the silent shuffle of footsteps

on air keeps them confined

those cold creatures with their

spindly legs but bounding leaps

we are scared beyond rationality

we are scared beyond fear

after all this time,

we are still caught in this

beautiful, dusty monstrosity

this web that caught us by

our limbs and hair

you are the one thing that should **** me

the lethal bite is swelling

but the poison will never spread fast enough

so bite me all over

until i am more unrecognizable

than i am now
poem no. 1 of the guillotine narratives
twelve caesuras Jan 2015
the altitude of i & i
melting at the core or
boiling in the sky
i am the fool to test the bounds
so i think i'll plummet
from the top, i'll make my rounds
to twelve-thousand feet
deep in the ground

transcending as i
d e c l i n e
i wonder, then,
was any of this life ever truly mine?
this is why i walk the line
my blood is bubbling as i reach the high
start with a scream,
end with a sigh
twelve caesuras Nov 2014
DOES NOT COMPUTE
reads the bright blue screen
in the velvet stillness.
i am a fabrication, and if you
transliterated my binary codes
you'd find the doctrine of the bored
and the lonely, the prime numbers,
the untouchably melancholy.

DOES NOT COMPUTE
i can see it on all of their faces.
like the equation too complicated to understand,
the one that you drop and decide to revisit later,
like the one that you never get around to revisiting,
i am the unfinished problem on a
piece of paper covered in irregularities and eraser marks.
if you decoded the algorithm for my glowing blue soul
you'd find a lot of insecurity.

DOES NOT COMPUTE
i am every error message. imperfect, i
can pretend to function well until one thing
goes wrong, and the guise that i've been hiding under
is ripped apart.
and then it's even easier to see the uselessness.

DOES NOT COMPUTE
i'd built up so many firewalls to protect my core,
but you must have been some kind of heart hacker
because you put out the fire and bulldozed the bricks.
and now my information sits there for you to defile,
clicking, clicking, clicking until you've gone through every
single megabyte of my existence.

when you boot me up, the electricity running throughout my body
keeps me awake for hours.

DOES NOT COMPUTE*
*reads the bright blue screen
in the velvet stillness.
i am cold, but when you turn me on
i get so hot that it burns
even you.
if you transliterated my binary codes
you'd find the doctrine of the
only-half-functionings and those
only running on half battery.
twelve caesuras Jan 2015
and there are some days where i am not walking on a tightrope.
they are few and far and between
but when they come, finally, i am not dangling.
i don't have to look down to see that the ground is quite far away
mais c'est la vie, or so they say.

and there are some days when i more than suffocate.
they are often, chronic, perhaps;
because i have long since resigned from filling in the gaps.
the black spots in my vision have become an old friend
probably the only ones to stay through the end.

and there are days when i see you.
those are the days when everything occurs,
i die and come back to life, water clears, water blurs.
i think i could lay against your shoulder, wait out the flames
until we and the ashes are the sad, sole remains.
twelve caesuras Dec 2014
and i will lie my best to keep you here
'cause shadows die when light disappears
the ice sets in when the fire fades
i can't lose my place between your shoulder blades
this is a song i swear she'll never know
is that an angel sleeping still in the snow?
her wings have been broken, her halo is black
my fondest memory is the curve of her back
blue skin darkens alone in the cold
but the silver soul ripens, turns into gold
and i treasure the thing, i swear that i'll steal it
but if she's dead inside, will she be able to feel it?
and if i'm dead inside, does any of it matter?
i just want to make the hours dance faster
so maybe someday your soul will quiver
and something other than frost will be making you shiver

this is a song i swear she'll never hear
'cause i'm not the one whispering love into her ear
but maybe just once if i got her to listen
we'd be lit by the moon, our bodies would glisten
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
they call me asphyxia because the air will never come
my breaths are pools of lighting that beat like shallow drums
the world that i created was swallowed by the blues
because we used the oxygen for dreamy me and  yous
the ****** hands around my neck seem so much like mine
but i promised i wouldn't lose it all this time, this time
my heart moves with a cloudless death
i can't say why, i've lost my breath.
twelve caesuras Jul 2014
her eyes are coal,
smoldering in her head and
on my spine.
she stays silent.
i tell her to
imagine the whole universe in
thirty seconds,
but she laughs and says
"blast off."

when i see her
hair i think,
what a riveting rendition
of the cosmos and
her skin is like
the milky way,
freckles like
countless stars

she is
unfathomable, divine
and i
am revolving around
her stunning
supernova of a soul
that is too
bright to see clearly but
too gorgeous
to miss
poem no. 2 of the guillotine narratives
twelve caesuras Jul 2014
what it means to be ruined:
to meet her,
on a quiet day in november
and let her resurrect the
sun-colored part of your soul
that you had hidden behind your back in youth
and let fade away as time passed.
to meet her, in a
moment of heat when
your scarf is wrapped tightly around your
ears but
you can hear her perfectly fine and the
wind is blowing, not howling but
the remnants of life on the trees flicker through the sky
like the vicious lightning storm the day before
and as you're watching her lips form the words perfectly,
you notice the grass is dead and
such a minuscule fact is quite substantial
as she speaks to you.
you notice her nose is red,
just like yours, and
the upward surge in your chest is but a result of
knowing someone in the world is
just like you, and
someone just like you has
shoved you away from an abyss
and
has brought upon you such a feeling that you're
running through the trees into the night,
laughing,
and watching the stars burst every time
you blink.

and all she had to say was,
*i bet your laugh
is obnoxious.
poem no. 6 of the guillotine narrative
twelve caesuras Apr 2015
they will split me open
and find you in my bones.
your breath will be
the majority of
the composition
of my blood,
your sighs stuck to
the insides of my lungs.
in my hands will be
your fingerprints
and on my shoulders
there will be love songs
my hair will be tangled
and your scent will be
carried in it
and every embrace we've
ever shared will find
themselves as ghosts
on my arms;
your voice will be
wedged between my spine,
wavelengths written
between my shoulder blades
and if they ever
open my eyes
your silhouette will be
dancing there
but perhaps it won't happen
that way
because i feel that i could live forever as long as i can fold into you
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
"a sip or two"
resign to a warm death
under sheets and
violet colored visions
quiet outside ears and
between them
eyelashes are steel
body is stone

"a sip or two"
convivial for now
unravel into belligerence
pent up angst
not meant to be verbalized
now expressed physically
scream now while there's
something to blame it on
sleepwalking while awake
stagger through the night

"a sip or two"
a cold rebirth
temporary amnesia
awake with a ribbon of pain
entangled with being
hard to stand
what happened?
to think is to intensify a velvety ache
drown out the sickness
water is the most important meal of the day
"a sip or two"

oh, how the cosmos swirling
around heads and mirrors
make that nausea dance
twelve caesuras Mar 2015
you cried
in my arms today and i
couldn't do one ******* thing to make the pain go away.
twelve caesuras Jan 2014
an increasing sense of mortality is
making my eyes and shoulders and existence heavier

and a great wind rushed through my ears,
like countless airplanes shattering the sky

but i am the islands
and you are cold beaches

continue as stone here,
unmoved oceans and two ****** fists

there are days when i cannot breathe
and i hope to take the air from the lungs of smokers or car engines

you can feel it all around you
grabbing onto your florescent skin and peeling it off with wet fingers

think about those days of magic markers and apple juice and goldfish
nothing smiles back anymore

when we become different people on the subway trains
will you stay as a silent april morning

an increasing sense of mortality is
feeding the dark enigma sleeping in my regenerative bruises

even if you said that i control my thoughts
i could never convince myself that i was doing alright

are we dying to live
or living to die
twelve caesuras Jan 2015
{long, slender fingertips brush against my trembling lips}

01.          *TRANCE

the music is so loud that it pulses through me like blood. it's keeping me alive. the lights bounce off the hundreds, dancing with them as if it isn't only a trick of the eye.

the sun's been down for forty days but we don't need it under the strobing rays. the colors change and so do we, we are all depressed and pretending not to be.

the lights embraced a figure cloaked in black—never seen a body move like that—and jesus h. christ when i saw her face, i was proud to be a part of the human race.

couldn't rip my eyes away and when hers met mine i knew she felt the same.

{i think i dreamt a dream of you.
i remember because i can't recall falling asleep, or if i should even be calling it sleep; i'm sure i woke up but i woke up with my eyes heavy.}


02.          WHISPERS

your soul is made of the same velvet that's wrapped around mine. i think i've known you... known you in older times. maybe that's why i see these strings. they're colored red, as are other things.

the time in my clocks is moving wrong. it's been seventy two hours since the start of this song. no one's ever stayed this long. but since you're here, just continue to strum. an insomniac is lulled to sleep at the sound of your hums.
to keep you here, i won't take my little finger away from your thumb.

on occasion i dream that our bodies shift. the thought of you is a full-fledged mental drift. i forget all the names of the continents, but i don't really care in a place like this.

you're the atlas that i want to read. you show me all the places i want to be.

{the dream's becoming clearer now.
i want to let her in but i don't know how; my heart's reaching further than my mind will allow.}


03.          BLACK NAIL POLISH

lips form words i've always heard, but i love them most when they come from her. it's like she knows the way i think, and how to pull me off the brink.  think about those days standing at the sink. watch the red-to-pink wash down the drain. see yourself grow further insane, and then think about her calling your name. suddenly darkness doesn't look the same.

mystery girl with her nails painted black—i refuse to leave again if you're just coming back. let's lean against the wall and fill in every crack. maybe next time the lacuna starts to spread, i can be the face stuck inside your head. i want to be the only reason that you ever give in. so let's turn on all the lights and let the colors change again.

*{i realize now that i might have always been awake.
you're the hand i reach for when mine begin to quake. i know sometimes you think i forget. but i know i can't tell you these precious secrets yet.}
about us
twelve caesuras Oct 2014
occasionally psychotic
always robotic
plate tectonics:
leave them shaking
keep them quaking
pain translating
hieroglyphic
monolithic
scientific
record reaction
step retraction
welcome distraction
instagramming
****** planning
not wish granting
step up, step down
milk box, flat ground
we be bloodhounds
twelve caesuras Nov 2014
adrenaline is much easier to obtain when you are not scared
when you have dark veils over your eyes, and the sun has gone and
died behind you so that there really is no light coming from
anywhere

you can can feel the rush without any nuance in heart beat, which sometimes
leads me to believe that i am truly dead inside
and so i drink liquid energy and let it warm my cold body
keep me even more awake

it usually lasts three or four hours and i car crash back
i i need to go to the ER collapse into bed, i i am overdosing react
i i feel like i am dying fall into the no electricity in my body abyss

so really what i want to get across is
that i have been a caffeine addict ever since you left me,
lightning bolt
eight cups a day keeps the missing you away
twelve caesuras Apr 2014
a pitched, suffocating ceiling has history written all over it with thick, crude lines and ignorance that is lighted by a flickering flame.
          it blackens with smoke.
who are these thoughtless children sitting under this dark dome?
          here we are, it's us, it's us.

endless cave talks
about burning ourselves
and ourselves
discovering innovations
about ourselves.
criss-cross applesauce, revealing the
supple human flesh that is
new to this world,
but not new to others.
i can misunderstand everything you say and
you can think i get it and we can agree on opposites,
and numbly, dumbly,
it can be that simple.
these cave talks
i covet,
for there's
nothing and
no one that i could possibly
become so barbarian
sitting next to
in low light.

          what is this strange, heated pace of breath?

a slab of rock and newborn fools, making graffiti on each other into the night.
each
speech
leads
to the
revelation
that we are

b e a s t s,
ravenous
and baring teeth.
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
could we just sit outside and
smoke cigarettes we shouldn't be and
eat goldfish and drink
iced tea while we watch
the world turn?

that'd make it all pass quickly

instead of watching you ****** yourself
while we both freeze up and listen to the catcalls outside
not made for us
could we lounge in the dark and watch those old movies we loved
when we were kids that look
so stupid now?

that'd make it all pass quickly
it'd feel much better

could i dust of the piano
could you tune your viola
could we dance without moving,
eyes closed,
harmonizing on those levels we can only get to when
we're in tune and
when our skin touches?

that'd make it all pass quickly
it'd feel much better
if only you'd join me

if we climbed trees and skinned our knees and spit on the cuts to seem tough again
would we be any closer than this pronounced dichotomy between us?
if we stopped acting so reserved
mature
little kids dressed like the grown-ups,
chocolate cake shoved in your face with a sly grin
and an apology no one cared about believing

that'd make it all pass quickly
it'd feel much better
if only you'd join me
could we wear our nostalgia?

i really wouldn't mind if sometimes you let me put my faith in
your existence
i wouldn't mind at all since
you're all i've got

that'd make it all pass quickly
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
every once in a while i wonder if there's a reason for this.
i packed my ****, i ran away, there's nothing i miss.
i packed my ****, left no goodbyes, is there something i—

on occasion i find myself thinking of the past.
you held my hand, said it was love, and said it would always last.
you held my hand, said it was love, it ended—

i still don't understand why you think i'm in the fault.
i don't have the bruises, but i've got the cuts, and you have all the salt.
i had the bruises, still have the cuts, if you could pass the pepper—

we all—
(only i do)
wonder if you remember that time you put your hands around my neck.
on your bed, you pinned me down and said some immature ramble about ***.
almost every day i have to hide and bring air to my lungs and put my hand to my throat just to check—

*you aren't there
twelve caesuras Sep 2014
day 1
of course it's raining. can you control the weather, too? you can take the stars and put them in your eyes and make flowers bloom with just a brush of your fingertips,
so of course i'd believe it.

day 2
yes, yes, today it is ninety-four degrees at only eleven in the morning. i can't help but think of the summer that the A/C broke and we sat in front of the fan wearing your tank tops and trying to stay still but i couldn't because you wanted me to sit in your lap and even though my back was slicked with sweat, you wrapped your arms around my waist and told me that i felt like a gust of wind.

day 3
i hate you.
i hate you i love you i hate you i miss you *i hate you.
it was cloudy today, and i gave my best friend relationship advice. i told her, you can't function with unresolved issues. *******, why is it that i can never take my own advice? that's right. this is my fault. everything's my fault. i want you. i want you so much.

day 6
in the grocery store today, i spaced out while staring at a box of frosted flakes. when i came to, i had bought six boxes and eight gallons worth of milk. when i went to cross country practice, my time had doubled and my coach told me i couldn't run in our next race.
why are you doing this to me?
this is all your fault.

day 9
i saw you. i saw you today. on the green line, isn't that the one that stops at the outer city near my dorm? you had a very sad look on your face and a paper bag from my favorite bakery.
and you know, that sad look on your face gave me so much hope.

day 11
i finally did the pathetic, the cliched, the unforgivable—i ate an entire pint of ice cream and watched a sappy romance movie.
well, i watched dead poets society for the eighteenth time but i was crying regardless.

day 14
i cried myself to sleep for the thirteenth time last night. i feel like i'm a kid again. it is a disgusting sensation (a horrible childhood will cause such cynicism).
maybe i should forget you.

day 20
my running time is back to normal. i listened to the velvet underground's "******" and screamed that i guess i just don't know and ******, if that isn't true, there really might not be a god, or cupid, or an easter bunny.

day 23
i walked as straight a line as i could through the forest.
but really, i'd gone in a circle.

day 24
i didn't cry last night. i made myself some instant noodles and wrote my history thesis. i didn't think about you (that much).

day 27
must you haunt me, still? i heard you moved to the harbor. that's a ten minute walk from my dorm. you hate me. i know it.
i've decided: i will exorcise you from my being. at the coffee shop, a bearded barista told me that i was some kind of gorgeous.

day 28
today you were at the bookstore i work part-time at. you let your hair grow out a bit, it looked so sexily unkempt and i just wanted to run my fingers through it. you looked so tired, buying existentialism for dummies and those japanese greeting cards that everyone thinks are pretty but few venture to purchase. that white t-shirt somehow made you look like a god. i can't get over it.
but why did you stare at me? i was trying so very hard to shelve those useless self-help books.

day 31
i received a card today in the mail. it had a watercolor painting of a japanese temple covered in snow. i flipped it open.
how are you? you'd written. i made the wrong decision. will you meet me on the twenty-first, at the harbor? i want to convince you to love me again.
i sat at the dinner table and looked at the card for an hour.

day 36
i cannot go a day without finding my feet pulling me in the direction of your house. i've been waking up early to watch you run through the dawn. i can't sleep without dreaming of you, of us. i miss you.
though i should have been surprised, i asked why you broke up with me.
you were so good that it was bad for me.
i stood up and said okay, i started walking away, you grabbed my wrist and pulled me into your lap. the people sitting around us in the restaurant were gawking as you took my chin between your fingers and turned my head towards yours.
and you kissed me like the world was ending very slowly, like you'd never let go of me, like my lips were your source of life.
i went home feeling drunk, so i drank to feel true bacchanalia.

day 40
i woke up expecting you to be sitting at my desk, shirt off, reading the rilke you'd often pull from the bookshelf. i thought you were going to say, next time, come to my place so we don't get in trouble, with that grin of yours. you were going to remind me that i had an asian economics seminar in twenty minutes.
but you weren't there, and i was late for class.

day 41
i rented a bike today and went around the harbor. i got a pay raise at the bookstore, so i bought myself new running shoes and a black dress. i bought a crepe and with your favorite filling—white chocolate ice cream and bananas—even though i hate bananas.

day 42
i woke up in the middle of the day and straightened my hair, pulled on my new black dress, and a pair of electric blue pumps. red lipstick, black eyeliner.
my hair had grown, too. i wondered if i looked like a goddess to you.
i walked to the harbor and told you to meet me in ten minutes. when you came, there was a look of amazement in your eyes, and your gaze lingered on my legs.
what, i said. aren't you going to convince me to love you again?

day 43
ornamental clouds
compose an evening love song;
a road leaves evasively.
the new moon begins,

you read from my desk.
the beginning of the last verse comes from Rilke's "Evening Love Song"
.
.
my 100th poem on hellopoetry
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
the waters are still as time walks over them
with hushed footsteps, tentative and scared

the quietly pale whispered morning mist
covers the dawn in a blushing glow
the trees rustle a slowly brilliant melody
green to green
a red sun rising
a red sun rises

a red sun hangs suspended in the air like magic
clouds pass by, here lies shadow and shade
sounds of an expanse too great to fathom
tickle my ears and fill my stomach
the grass grows up and curls between my toes
green to green
a red sun setting
a red sun sets

the thin golden veil left when the sun leaves flows like melting butter
the evening is slashed apart by speeding cars
with hands saying takemehometakemehome
sing to me the universe, a dinnertime serenade
as the day bleeds into darkness
gold to deep blue
a black moon rising
a black moon rises

the night is an unrequited love moved deeply by stardust
it shifts like the undersea, pulled back by the moon
midnight greetings to those up above this ocean
mother points her finger to make circles in the stream
bask in the glory of a melancholy sky
gold to deep blue
a black moon fading
a black moon fades

the waters are still as time walks over them
twelve caesuras Sep 2016
you are
the sky at its best, when
all of the cloud tribes meet,
an amalgamation of sururrus societies
conversing
ancient civilizations mending together

a soirée in the stratosphere
icy eyed cirrus staring down
on the fluffy head of a cumulus
you are
the thousandth conversation and the  silence of
all nine hundred ninety-nine others

and i suppose i am your newest wound:
the sizzling **** of lightning that
desecrated this halcyon
twelve caesuras Feb 2014
when your fingertips brush aside the dust collected on my skin, i breathe it in instead. and you blow the cobwebs from my lungs then, and you have rid me of dust and sand and cobwebs steadily collecting over the years in mere minutes and with few words, and i can't help but ponder if time amounts to anything when you make such a change in me.

when your lips track the landmarks decaying in my bones, i shiver and they shake and they all break down until my only landmarks are the marks your kisses left. afterwards i run my hands over them and find that greenland is not as big as maps say and i am greenland when i am with you. i can't help but ponder if where we are is making me feel this way or if it's your existence cradling my cold shores.

when your eyes meet mine and tell me the secrets of paradise, i tell you the ones of inferno. you tell me of a place where my voice will scale mountains, where it will make trees reach up and grab of something above the sky and you tell me that my footsteps will echo melodies of green that ring through the air. you tell me that it feels like april all the time and then you blink and my purgatory is forgotten. i can't help but ponder if there is something on the cusp between earth and soul that you have given me.

and we dream with our heads together.
twelve caesuras Jun 2015
i still wish
     santa claus    existed

because
   he


was
    so   much
easier


to believe     in than




god

i liked the    easter bunny
       a lot more

                 than jesus
           christ


because he         gave me
      

          candy



but the      son
of

            god      was


the


     one
                to give


      me
  cavities
twelve caesuras Dec 2013
(insert sick beat here)

maybe i should just OD on ******* aspirin

"hey, what’s wrong?"

why are you even asking

see, my friend, there’s something you’re lacking

the ***** you’re pretending to give are really slacking

stop looking at me with that ******* pity in your eyes

i don’t give two ***** if i look ****** in your eyes

yeah, i’m the one who gives up before she even tries

but my head is ******* hurting from all these falsely empathetic lies

maybe some days i’m feeling homicidal

(mommy never came to see my ballet recital)

so i watch the world burn while i’m just sitting idle

and scratching at my skin as i turn into a monster

when people see the scars they say “****, this *** is bonkers”

(mommy mommy call a doctor

just lock me up until the demons are conquered)

i don’t need you to tell me i’m a romantic crazy

i’m delusional, hey man you’re looking kinda hazy

the human populous will never cease to amaze me

yeah, yeah, i know, i’m pathetic

if you see my mother you will realize it’s genetic

a control freak that thinks her worry for me is authentic

she just doesn’t get it

i’ve been sitting here desperate

and she *just doesn’t get it


stop freaking buying me medicine

you are all of my sicknesses and i am getting sick of them

i am getting sick of you

second generation that would be you number two

and yes, that would be me

spilling the blood of this forsaken ******* family

you’re a *******, so let me tell you what you’re lacking

that “love” **** you spew has recently been slacking

and when i asked you about it you just sat there gasping

looking at me like “why are you even asking?”

maybe i should just OD on ******* aspirin
twelve caesuras Jan 2015
i
follow springs
into garbage cans and
alleyways

i, i
sleep with blades
stuck between my teeth
and bandages on my
knees

i, i, i
have tasted copper in
my dreams
ochre yellow
emerald green

i've
bitten my tongue
to stay awake but
the blades between my
teeth like to play these
silly games
and if the edge
begins to slip

i will ******* deal with it
twelve caesuras Feb 2015
01
     i have
  left-brained
            
dreams but

               when i wake up
everything has shifted

to the right
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