maybe I have burned up
too bright -
                     my nerves are frizzled
                     and frayed

i touch
i fear
i love
           yet this dead pulse is only
           the same

as if the blood in my veins
has frozen midway

there is no heart
to be thawed

last january
was colder

instead of morning dew
you woke up with snowflakes in
your tear ducts and
the icicles trickling off your fingers
looked so pretty bleeding rain;

do you remember how your
bones shook like avalanche heartbeats
and how all those broken paintbrushes were
sharper than they looked
at five am with only fireplace
ashes for charcoal and old prose
to keep yourself warm

you have forgotten again -
ice is only cold when
it's crawling up your spine,
ice is only cold when
it's all you'll ever hold,
ice is only cold
when you do not want to breathe
the dawn again

the icicles did not hurt -
these frostbitten nerve endings make
breathing through the numbness almost
as natural as the selfish
sun and the reds and the yellows and the warmth
that will melt the terror in my lungs
into shaking palms
dripping red on tablecloth poetry

the sadness was locked away,
frozen behind my shivering ribcage
and I miss the way this ice felt in
my veins,
almost as if I'd never have to
feel again


how could I forget?
this rain is colder than any
winter I've ever known

this is somewhere in between
and last night you told
me you couldn't
breathe

i am so lost in sin and things
i should not feel and i can't
breathe i can't breathe
i never ******* meant to
i never meant to steal the air from your lungs
this is a darker kind of thirsty and don't
you see? there is nothing left to inhale anymore

this hole is insatiable
blacker every night
sleep flees through
the cracks in my windowpane

it cannot rain outside
when the thunder is from
within

just before the red
of dawn
bleeds and stains and screams
against the night;

my fingers will be
bleeding and staining and screaming
desperate words
that silence themselves
when my ink is dripping
too much red

magic is not crafted from crimson
yet crimson feeds
the howling wolf when the
moon is too blinding and
the sun too bright

crimson keeps the demons at bay
the wretched hole has had
its fill of daybreak misery;

i feel lightening clawing inside
and i bleed again
all the while it thirsts for more

do you think of me
my name was all your fingers ever held
the thought of us spilling
out of dreams into things that will never be
you are distracted now
without me
you are a liar
if i asked you
who is it that your veins are singing for
who is it that gives you strength when weakness is seeping out of the cracks between our hands
who is it that knows your heart: the quiet little drumbeat when you are broken; the rush the rapids the waterfall when we closed our eyes and imagined a little closer
?

the truth is caught in your throat, i can hear you
choking on the things that you should say - that's okay
here is your heart back
do what you will
and i will be honest for the both of us

you're shouting;
i'm freezing

there is a chill caught between
my teeth and trailing up my
shivering arms oh
god you know i can't
breathe when you are spitting
your fire at my feet
and i thought you were the
gentle, the fireplace i wanted to
curl up next to every night until
the frost took me away for the
very last time
right there by your side
warmth i was so terrified of getting
used to because its all so *******
cold

out here where you've
left me to fade away into the
same nothingness, the
same cold i felt under every
shadow of the sun's, everywhere except
when you wrapped me tight
in your arms like
i was a little flower you couldn't bear an
entire winter without

it's always winter in here
the spring never touches my soul
oh god oh god it's so very
cold please
why won't you

let me come home
anymore?

i like the silence
when it's you
you hold your promises in your quiet fists,
i can't ever hear you break
when you hold me, your little
ink spill disaster until
morning quakes the heavens apart
daydreams softening your heartbeat
every night
you tell me you'll stay
only ever half awake

there is strength in all
the things you don't know how to say
i'm listening anyway

ask me about my safe place
and i'll tell you about mirrors
three and a half walls is what i remember
a little cracked because you leave the fear
with your shoes at the door, bow before you step in
eyes closed, breathing in
out
rivaling your reflection and rest assured,
you will be stronger than before
i want to write about uniforms pristine and fists clenched and how proud i was of every little step closer to the front line but the strength is in the moments i can count over my knuckles over and over again :
i. red moon scars bisecting the destiny lines i don't care about but look black belt! look how tight my fists are
ii. walking down the street us three brown brown black mothers suddenly in front of their little ones and HYAA! from every third passerby; downtown is so beautiful
iii. sensei's office: trying not to cry because it takes all i have to crawl to the dojo every monday and by the time i'm standing there hands flat by my side the three strips on my brown just aren't good enough, 'thank you for coming today'
iv. third time i have passed out in the past half hour but you're making me get up get up get up spinning hook kick i nearly pass out again because i DID IT
v. ichi nee san **** it's all japanese translating into 'i bully you because you are strong enough today' snap kick, in your face
vi. coming home comparing the bruises my mother is smiling shaking her head and her own is begging us to please just quit
vii. the living room is our own little battleground I'M TRYING TO WATCH THE NEWS GO BREAK YOUR BACKS IN YOUR OWN ROOMS
viii. i have muscles no you can't make me shut up
ix. the morning after: every limb creaking like abandoned warehouse floors but i'm relishing the burning with every turn of my head, stretch of my legs because it aches sweet like valour sweet like brave
x. just the stairs we used to choose the elevator over because yellow belts what do you want from us, just the dread of mondays and thursdays dissolving into bliss in meditation, just my legs dragging me back to war when the rest of me would very much rather be back in bed but it's been an entire week without punching bags and i miss the victory when you hit and the nobility when you miss miss miss and just the burning pride watching my baby brother punch so hard my little sister and her leg flying well above her ahead and just
knowing that i will never ever be afraid

i want to write myself a dynasty
of poetry, intricate and far away from words that come out so wrong and broken
do you understand a thing i say? i'm trying to
spin a tapestry out of my own pain
all this blood is still the same
same color same red
i wish my words weren't as empty as i am

the last time i saw your
face (laughing eyes and silent
goodbyes)
you didn't cry

now you say you don't write anymore
will you say all the words are
caught in your throat
somewhere between a secret
and the truth -
do they really even know
you? from your freckles to your fists
can they read all the words you don't
know how to say
the anger you kept in your hands
and your voice
the anger i kept in
my own since i let you
walk away?

i am in ashes for too long
oh god i can't even
remember the flame i thought i used to be

there was a fire
but now i'm just coughing
up smoke and cold from the
insides of my bones and i
wish i could just keep a little
warmth within
just enough to breathe a little
more

than whatever this is
crushing my lungs and draining
me so dry
i can't ******* breathe at night
when holding myself
chills me from head to toe and
i'd give anything for a little spark
in my fingers
just until the dawn
just so i can
watch myself set alight

every single ******* night

they've all got silk for voices
measured pauses, pretty words
pain they know how to articulate and there is me
fading into the audience, happy to act
like i've never written a poem
all my life
as if i can listen to their art without
feeling my fingers quiver and resonate to the very words they say written
all over the hands i've hidden away

i like my fists in my pockets,
i like feeling safe
but they are up there naked in the most spiritual way
i can't look any of them in the eye
without hearing the poetry they wear
like a definition of the souls they've learnt
how to chain to the bones they claim to loathe so ******* much

i think of standing up there;
reading the things my fingers have whispered
over paper on nights i can't even remember,
and then i can't breathe
this poetry is my saviour please
words fade faster the louder you speak
my secrets are on paper i don't even keep
why should i trade in the only air i know
how to breathe for pity i'll never deserve?

i've been thinking about how prose never comes easy am i the quiet kind of rain
with pauses
for sighing in -
                       between
you know i'm not the
quiet kind of anything
my matchstick fingers always find
the silence you try so
hard to hide inside
and then

and then we are flame
i can't find myself in the ashes anymore

i. searching for the sun in places too
  cold to touch
  maybe this is why it

ii. hurts like freshwater blood
   spilling out of hands that quake like ocean
   waves; this sea salt
   in my veins should be close enough

iii. he is lazy summer mornings; sweet
    grass and flowers too soft to
    pluck apart on such whims
    ‘will you stay
                    remember me
                    hold me under the sun

iv. when the winter freezes over
    all the warmth i did not deserve?’

v. no;
   my fingers are too cold for
   gardens and for you
   the sun will never shine underneath
   the rainstorms and oceans have always
   belonged to little lost things and
   hearts no one could ever hold

vi. home was a pretty word
    to keep in my empty mouth for so
    long; thank you
    for giving me somewhere
    i wanted to stay

you are desperate to become
the stranger you used to be
except i know your
heart better than i know my own
i will paint you
the insides of your soul
tell me where
the strokes are not soft enough
tell me where the colors
are brighter than you are used to
tell me where you see
yourself
do you know who you are?

all she ever did
was speak of fading
                             away
                                  into mist
into silence; into things you'll never
hold
again

sometimes all i see is red
and you with your hands up in
surrender

what do you want?
do you want me to tear
you apart?
is that what you
want?

there are minutes, no hours
of the day when the blood
pumping in my veins is destroying
me by the second

i've already torn myself apart
until the rage gives in to surrender
on my knees
and fists still clenching
still itching to destroy you

for still standing there
with your hands in
the air

you say you've never been so scared before
never wanted to sink your teeth into things you couldn't keep
not like this
chain me to your heartbeat then
anchor this sadness to your bones
but i can't breathe the air in your lungs
you're tearing your veins apart, i know
i know, it's all for me; i feel it in
frantic fingertips and ghosts breathing over
my empty little hands on mornings you
wake up sunlight and me alone, mist shrouding
everything it aches to inhale; i hear the
terror in every word you say
stay hidden in curled little fists i've
never known to cradle in my own

i'm not coming home

it's all a tint of grey these days
poetry tastes so bland when i'm not bleeding
in colour

you are the forever i
think about when the sky
is blue like oceans i don't
dream of drowning
in; when the sun is so bright
i can feel the light trickling
in my bones every time you teach
me how to laugh again
and again until i remember

how hollow i am


flowers won't grow in the dark
even when he promises he
will stay;


i don't think of forever anymore

you never know where
you're going

if it's your hands on the steering
wheel,
then I'm the one driving you
home

but lately you've been holding me
too close
and you think you can whisper
your smiles in my ear until
I'm wearing my own

but, baby
get your hands off me
and keep your eyes on the road

because my fingers have been shaking
and the map's forgotten under the bed
home isn't the light because
you're not the tunnel
and if I could just stop the car and
pull over -

keep the car
I'll jump off the cliff myself.

god, please
i just want to breathe
in the written and the unsaid
again

teach me
to speak in ink and lines
teach me to
string songs in the silence of the mind
and paint colors in strokes of black
i recognize

i miss tracing rain on paper with the tip of a fountain
pen
i miss painting red at 4 am
i miss hearing thunder at the turn
of a page
i miss screaming truth in margin space

and i miss how these demons are a little
beautiful
when caged between spiral spines
and pretty poetry

is it so wrong to want someone to keep my pockets are empty of love and i was thinking about how your fingers would have fit but you are a far away that never drifts just a little closer i'm so tired of being the one with glassy eyes and shaking hands and no i'll let the darkness hold me tonight don't worry you never notice anyway i think i am going away you are not who i want to stay for anymore

you told me you cared about me

take these pretty words, please
beautiful in poetry, art stains on napkins
left behind on trains when the night ends, whispers
to ceilings in the dark but to me,

this is terror down my spine run run
run i don't want to hear the rest of it
how you'll be there when i can't
breathe PLEASE it's happening already
the fear in every joint screaming escape
when you open your arms wide
how i can tell you everything that keeps me
awake as if my mouth is a faucet
confessional already dripping all over me
as if just you can trust me can
save me
instead of breaking me
as if you've never known how easy
it is to feel safe in a lie

my hands shake
too much;
my fingers are unsure
my words trip over
my tongue and die
before I can pry them
past my lips

my hands shake
too much
for poetry

my hands shake
too much
to hold myself
together

stop breathing toxic
sunshine
into my lungs

there is too much
rain within
too much thunder
in my heartbeat
too much lightning
painting my charred bones
white and then,
black again in sick
repetitive monochrome misery
that leaves my rib cage shattered and my
heart
just a ****** mess
at my feet

red stains these
floorboards and the
grayscale in my eyes
seeps just enough color
to make me scream when
I can't sleep

can't you see
that flowers won't grow
where your fingers graze
my skin?

I am only a storm to
run from;
hide behind your clouds
of dreams and smiles
and -
*go away

i. my mother plays with
   knives
   while i play with the lock
   on the bathroom door
   my hands have stopped
   shaking on
   the doorknob a long
   time ago

ii. some days
    i'd rather be splayed dead
    and ****** on the
    street than walk all
    the way back
    home

iii. she never lets me sleep
      as long as i need;
      can she tell that closing
      my eyes is all it takes to fade
      away from this place

iv. i want to be somewhere
     a million miles away

v. mama,
    please stop screaming
    i can't sleep

i. if he is sunshine,
you will flinch when he gets too close
the winter in your bones has never felt
this warmth

ii. four am and your fears will not tear open
your sealed lips like ordered prose; you are
a poem best left bro
                                   ken
into half lines and fading metaphors of rain
on windowpanes and the fire in your
veins

iii. he will not understand a word
you say

iv. but when the rain in your lungs is
bleeding tear stains down his shirt
again,
you forget he is aching to kiss your apologies
away, aching to cage your shaking bones in the light
of his own, to whisper 'i love you' over your skin
again and again as if those words alone
will feed this emptiness inside;
he will never understand

v. sunshine holds you close
and you will wonder if he can hear
your phantom pulse -

*'darling, you're only in love with a
ghost'

she crushes my hand in hers
bones almost crunching as
the ice in my veins thaws
with my pulse

hers is faster, wild like
the way she does her eyes
black lines smudging into hard
edges every time she cries
but i like the soft of her fingers
as she falls asleep, our hands
a tangle of friends and who are
we kidding you are everything i didn't need
until that very first time you sang
for me and i almost punched your stupid
cheeks because because because

there are no reasons;
just you and my shaking
wrist turning over and your thumb
so gentle on skin i have
only ever dreamed of slashing apart

'there's your pulse, you see?'

and just like that i am
alive again

there is not much to breathe tonight
not much to say
except that ***** hands and
rotting souls
building a hell of their very own

always
always
get what they deserve

fingers clench around
nothing
at all

if only
there was breath to be
caught in my throat

please,
i'm begging these shadows painting tar
in my lungs
won't you let me
breathe?

i think my heart is broken
is it working right
i feel so light, i can't feel
i can't write