jerry's voice weaves a net
to catch my drunken skin,
sagging and dancing against
his cherry pie voice
warm and sweet in the dark of
the 7:17 dawn,
sun still sleeping behind a tall mountain range.

it makes me ache for open hearted
companions
barefeet wet from dew and black from distance
fearless,
unapologetic as they scream their throats out
raw splattering on the gasping earth from
the heaven high rooftops.

flowers poked through the pores
of ocean flavored skin,
peeling from laying too long
in the morning-faced
sun.

i wonder why people feel
so ancient, when their skin is still so young.
we've built this generation in the
imprisonment of fear,
the shrill avoidance of beauty,
we've forgotten what it feels to be living
free and loving
true,
and that's why you see so many young bones
crumble when their lives have just
begun.

you know? i'll stop being so empty sometimes. i'll fill myself with words, so they will be dripping down the carefully creased seams of my lips and dents in my cheeks. i am tired of margins and paragraphs to box in what i have to say. i'm ready to let things out like a destroyed dam barricading a swift, roaring feline river; distorted reflections of the day racing past.  i am a goddess with dripping hair and naked skin, you can't stop me from feeling. i feel with my soul i feel i feel I FEEL and i am alive. i am the start of morning, i am red tinged and purple, i am the end of the afternoon, dark skinned and starry. i am everything that this universe is made up of, and i intend to be that way till the very earth splits my bones and drills my skull, and my skin droops tiredly to the ground. i am whole, and i am divine. i am eternal, like the dust scattered across the milkyway, and *you can't stifle me.

i want to be touched by somebody
with burgundy blood on his hands;
red handed
raw palmed
legs strangled in maroon bedsheets.

a murderers kiss must be a rush,
blood exploding from every pore in my
bled out skin,
wounds opening willingly for his searching
hands to make
a sort of house out of my bones.
creating a home for something
wild
who has only ever met closed doors
and distant, fearful faces.
i'd prove i wasn't scared of
the dark eyes,
and hungry lips,

knowing at any moment he could push the
cool lips of a golden .45 caliber revolver
and splatter my ****** through the
wooden bedpost and the
flaking, collapsing drywall.

i've followed thrills ever since i was
in third grade,
convincing a boy to take off his clothes
and show me what "men" are made of
and sneaking behind my mothers
injured back
stealing things i wasn't supposed to know about.
i liked putting myself through the danger,
unknown
it rushed up my legs and
rendered me breathless and craving more.  

i've always wanted to hold
something shaking
and cold
and let them tell me stories
out of their biting teeth
of when when it all started:
they were small and rode their bicycle
so fast they fell and skinned their
soft pink cheeks on the black cement
and went crying to their mother with blood dripping
down
a mixture of tar and red.

i'll tell them there's some place in hell
in the beating, drumming heart of the earth
warm darkness compacted,
where you can buy cigarettes for
50 cents a pack,
and whiskeys in water bottles and skin is naked
guns are loaded to shoot down the moon
and eat it with crunching, crumbly golden crackers.
where there is no sleep
only midnight writing furiously on the stark pages
of a shredded journal
dawn walks down the lively sidewalks where
other sleepless figures of orange peel flavored darkness
and coffee bean stained teeth dance and laugh and touch
in the darkest parts of the invisible morning
sweat intermixed unrecognizably with tears
and people hold their belongings in
the drooping bags under their bright eyes,
where screams of pleasure echo in every
cavern and creaking limb you touch
to the atmosphere
and people make love easier
than they
destroy necks.

i'll whisper
"when you're rotting underground
with your teeth in a
waxen, strained smile with lovers flesh embedded
in your own homely skull,
and your fingers are feasts for writhing worms,

and i'm dancing chaotically as ever in the raging wind,
a desert flower reduced to
bright-eyed dust
thrown lightly into the sinking seeds of a garden
with flowers growing out of my decomposing
echo of a body
like an
articulate oil painting decorating the earth to remind them
of my eternity,
i'll sink all the way through the soil
and follow the heartbeats

i'll meet you there."

i am actually quite a raging hurricane.
i have things slew precariously on the cluttered floorboards
of my mind,
and i trip on things with throbbing toes
thrown into the caverns
of my hollowed bones
constantly.

i mistake "ie" for "ei" in
words i should know the meaning of,
and find myself gagging on the
knowledge of which way is left and which is right.
i lose myself in the dawn,
and then i have to find my way back home during the mornings
stumbling through the wet grass
and acrid manure
soft, strained yellow rusting on wilted daffodils
left cut on cement after a night of rain.
i have no sense of direction,

and maybe this is why i can't determine
right from wrong.

i have no built in moral,
just an empty piece of new-skinned, unworn brain
where my patience and good deeds lie sleeping.

the only thing i have to soften my
naked sin and lustful greed is love,
coursing inside my arteries
like a raging river of fire,
burning skin where
people touch.
i cook callouses with it,
give the sun something
to envy.

burnt ashes were houses,
and now they lay smothered and leaking
with dripping,
coal
remains.

i'm not a mess,
i'm just a storm.

we lay in the fields and on the dry hills
and smoked green out of a purple pipe and you kissed a boy who talked about crystals and rolled down under the stars
i shared my cigarette with soft lips and a strong jawline,
we all drew ourselves together on the hill that overlooked the world;
we we're the tallest, vastest beings ever to live, and the glowing lights that we're stuck like splinters in the palms of the sky we're mere reflections of what was within our glowing skin.

grey clouds bursting stark,
volcano
ash exploding
crawling
drowning
amber measures of coal black
lungs
back aching,
carrying newborn mornings.

sometimes its easier for somebody to see what's wrong
when they can't hear you sob like
a hyperventilating storm
--------
i know you want to tear out your organs with your nails,
but please hold onto your insides for me,
because you are enough.
you are whole without needing love from people
who don't matter.
and you can't forget it, because you don't need approval from anybody but yourself.
and i want you to know
i'll never forget that time when we we're drunk and stumbling
and i saw that you had white scars slashed on your legs too,
and knew that I wasn't alone
because we knew one another's pain and we loved eachother for it anyway.
you are kind,
remember it. you are strong like a steel whip in the cold icy
morning of a december winter, but you are soft and kind and you are warm
like strawberry vanilla popsicles dripping and summer heat sweltering,
and please
never forget to be kind
to yourself
especially.

--------
please try to stop ******* everything up.
you make things ******* yourself, and maybe if you just learned to let go
and accept that your problems are no more important than every other single living being on this earth, maybe you'd smile a little more. your smile is beautiful, and i don't think you know that. life treats you so well, you just have to open your eyes and
WAKE UP.
you have to escape your little world sometimes,
and admit that we're all breathing in the same atmosphere into our lungs.
you can get better so easily,
you just have to let yourself.
because i know,
you aren't letting yourself heal.
let that small peach tree grow it's roots.

--------
giving yourself away to boys who only care about your body, won't make them care about your feelings. drinking until you fall asleep wont make the world disappear, it'll just make your memories sink to the bottom; you need to filter them out.
don't be afraid anymore, be real. be who you are under those layers of flesh and bones,
be the soul that screams and hammers to be let out. you are so real.
and worthwhile.
so many people care about you,
you are something magnificent and
it's not your fault. to be free, you need to stop blaming things on yourself.
let it go from your clenched palms, because things are getting better just as long as you make them that way.
i feel like you forget how strong you are, how you have so much power in those long, pale fingers. how you can create and destroy with the mere movements of your tongue.
i don't want you to forget that what you hide inside you is something gleaming and vast, and you should pull away the blinds
and let the sun shine through.

--------
i feel horrible because i was the girl who taught you that feeling was a horrible thing to do.

that because you let yourself
get too emotional over the fact that
i was too unattached to love you in the way you wanted me to,
and every time we tried, i would runaway from your waiting lips
and laugh like venom dripping behind closed doors to hide
from your confrontation about why i never wanted to let people love me
and return it.
now, you walk with a metal shield up
i remember you said a long time ago
“now i know every girl will be like you,
and i don't want to try ever again.”
i wish you would still tear up to really good music,
and let your barriers down.
because it's not true, there are women
who will treat you right,
and love your bad jokes,
and not lead you treacherously into their traps of poison and bones.
be true to the boy you harbor so reluctantly in your tough exterior
because i can still see him in your eyes when you smile,
and he's beautiful.

--------
you think that the words you write have nothing to do with what you hold inside.
you're wrong about that.
you are the things you imagine yourself to be, but you have to release them from the fear tight in your chest.
you aren't damaged, but people will see yourself that way if you hold your body like that. straighten your spine, darling, and pierce their eyes with the knowledge that you are
beautiful like vines crawling up gracefully over a window
you are smart like the cinnamon colored pages of old books,
you are mysterious like the deepest parts of the ocean,
and alluring like the soft, midnight tide.
nobody forgets about you, you aren't small in anybody's mind.
nobody thinks that your ordinary, they think you're fantastic,
and you need to break all your mirrors
and with scarlet dripping from your knuckles like rivers
on ice
you need to admit that you don't need them.
it makes me so happy to see you slowly blossoming
into the wild rose i know you are.
take care of yourself,
because that is the only way anybody else will be able to care for
you.
your soul is huge like the
morning sky
let yourself feel it.

--------
find your voice, and speak clearly to people who are shaking your boundaries, and tell them to BACK OFF.
yell it if you have to,
stop letting them invade you and squeeze your insides like they even have
any right to.
scream into their faces that you are not weak,
and let loose your mean side a little bit.
never let yourself be taken advantage of.
look into peoples eyes,
and search desperately for their truths.
if they don't hold their vulnerability raw and beating in their palms,
then they're not worth it.
never expend your energy to make somebody else feel better.
you can share with them your happiness, but never give it away;
because you are not an empty girl.
you are a fulfilled girl bursting at the seams with things it means
to be completely alive
and laughing
and feeling.
don't hide that.
people think its nice to be hurt
and it's so mature and creative and artsy to be damaged.
they think its romantic when you can be
“saved”
by a stupid prince who wont give you **** but a plastic crown and sore hips.
DO NOT GIVE INTO THAT *******.

your eyes crinkle when you smile,
and you have small teeth that are like
waxing moons.

nobody wants to be happy
because they think it wont last,
because they think its not beautiful
but you my dear are living proof.