you spoke the words and they came true—
heaven had a crush on you.
they placed you on that cold bronze throne
as "gold dust rained down in sierra leone."

Days when you come home
on thursday nights
with cigarettes in an elastic band
are like black sheep.
I count them when I fall asleep
and sometimes I lose track because
they all have blurred together.

I spoke to god, once—
and he told me
to never forget
the capital g.    / because
language exists everywhere

oops.

I woke up on your bathroom floor with linoleum lines in my cheek.
If language exists everywhere
why did you never speak to me
when you came home
on thursday nights
with cigarettes in
an elastic
band.

and tonight I think I love you—
and tonight I wrote that on your back.

and tonight I wish I didn't—
and tonight I told you that.

April 13th 12:28am

me from a year ago looks at me from a minute ago
with her stupid
*******
hormones
and her stupid
*******
youth.

benjamin button is real but only in the form of knowledge

the water was cold and your tongue was blue—
you made me feel like liquid iron
with a crown of golden seaweed.
the water was cold and your tongue was blue—
color slipped from your eyes as the waves took you home.

I woke up warm today—
and your skin smelled like
coffee.

I have always
hated
the sign of caffeine
in the morning
(and you know this).


but one day you will be gone
and all I will crave
is your coffee skin
in the morning.

I woke up cold today—
like the *** of coffee
you left on the counter
last monday.

*** was a card game—
and you were the player
holding three other queens.

for a year all i knew was
cut knuckles against torn cheeks
your blood in my blood
*you told me we
were becoming
one

I kissed a woman to forget a girl—
with pearl earrings and diamond snakebites,
black tights and blank skin.
I kissed a ***** to forget a ******.
I kissed a ***** to forget a ******.

I think of you. Your ******-touch that crosses my eyelids
with chlamydia fingernails accenting in all the
wrong places. The white powder trail leading like a
highway to your right nostril—the unemployment rate
like a dropped lit cigarette in the ******* apartments available. I think of you.
I think of you.
I thought of you.

I'm not ideal—I am irritation.
The words are steel with implication,
Bite my heel for malformation.
I am not real—I am animation.

I
saw the stars move in circles last
night. Bright sight with thoughts like no
other. My mother did not
exist. The grass kissed my lips but the only words I could
recite—*I saw the stars move in circles last night.

When I was young, my mother told
that "Gods are born in iron molds"
Peers caught hold and then controlled,
they told me I was only stone—
cold.
But I see the now—the lies they hold.
The skies turned yellow for all to behold
and I was born
from liquid gold.
Living without a form to hold.

Sad night for reminiscing
Charlotte counties, kissing missing.
Cinematic. Systematic. Relationship: static.

Charismatic with the diplomatic.
Rib cage chapel &
A phone call.
Traumatic.
A needle.
Ecstatic.
An addict.

In front of her, lies—

                  —What,
                  are you looking at
                  Mother?

"Nothing, dear. Just
the clouds against a seventh
day's barrier."

If gravity is 9.8m/s², I must have been .294km in the +z direction because it only took 60 seconds for me to fall into you

—and then I hit the ground.

This, like you, is made only for 3:37am.
Not 3:36—not 3:38.
This costly minute
which slips under my tongue
and into my bloodstream.

It took only a minute.
It took only a minute.

I remember the day well—
When your lips traveled down my neck like a greyhound bus,
Stopping at the station of my collarbone and lighting a cigarette there during the five-minute break.
Traced me down once more and—
All of your belongings still in the cargo hold—
then left.

They told me I could sell my body,
Instead I decided to sell my mind.
It's $10 a hit,
But I don't yet know
if this is harm or a high.

I'm not an artist,
nor am I a murderer—
but I would **** for the day
where you let me trace circles on your skin
and outline your canvas with mine.

If I were the words
that fall like crosses from your lips
I would flow from your lungs like holy water,
opening your mouth like double mahogany doors.

If I were the words
that fall like crosses from your lips
and float down on guardian wings from your tongue
I would carry no sound but still be comparable
to church bells.

If I were the words
that fall like crosses from your lips
I would have been glad
to have been nothing more
than a word from the bible of your speech.

A slate cannot
be wiped clean
if sins are
written with a
chisel.

.

In every here I've ever been,
I've wanted to be somewhere else.

Sanity, stability, sobriety.
Everything you've never
given to me.

You spoke zero words to me, today
But that's okay—
I spoke zero to you as well

i wish i could close my eyes to the ghosts that haunt me
whose sting feels like sleeping with contacts in
and having nightmares about the words she said

both of which make me wake up
with red eyes—and
pupils made of
ghost.

Love is fickle
but lust isn't—
so come over here and
I'll fix this rift
I created with words

i wanted to say "i love you" last night (more than once)

but you are fading, i am opaque
and words will slip through you
like water in butterfly nets

All I wanted was to sleep with you—
*(In both senses of the saying)

You can use blue words
to describe a grey canvas
but that does not make
it colorful.

*** and Radiohead
We are high and everything but dry.

You are not defined by your fading photographs.
Your personality does not have a white frame.
You are a Polaroid *******.

Your heart is an empty semi-circle
Half-filled by wet sand bags
Jagged edges because I am concrete
and concrete does not leave smoothly.

Concrete cracks but cannot slip between your fingers.

"Nice guys finish last because they always let the girl finish first"
Taking that advice like a shot of fireball,
I still wish you would have
kissed me.

Days away from you
Are frequent and cruel--


I start to wonder
if it's
mean or meaning.

I though I'd miss
the recollection of memory—
but now I find
that it slips through my fingers
like sand sitting under the
setting sun.
for years, you will stay
buried under these grains.

chemical cocktail—
serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, etcetera.
i'd write you a poem but i'd rather
spend my time in bed drinking
this chemical cocktail
with you.

Kissing, supporting—
then sniffing, then snorting:
Xanax, ******, Tylenol.
Alcohol will never expire
dealer, buyer—
you're getting higher and—and—and
Louder, louder—
you're drowning in prescription powder.

You're given ***, speed, salvation
It's not love, it's medication.

Proximity gets tighter and tighter. I walk by twice so your eyes can catch me. They do, but they don't match mine. "I wonder what he's thinking of—"
"Probably nothing."
Probably something, but nothing of me.
I go home and listen to a sad song that I'll probably end up showing you.

My mom gave me $30 for a taxi as a plan B
in case you couldn't drive me home if we drank.
We drank and I stayed the night—
but I still used the $30 for plan B.

Lovers in Florence,
Red hair like matches.
I hope she lights you on fire like you did to the bridge between us.

I am watching the smoke from my kitchen window.
The smoke is green like your eyes.

"You know what's just as addictive and twice as expensive as a line of coke?"
You slip out of my vision like a fallen credit card.
Your eyes touching my thigh and
your nose a smoke carton's width away from the coffee table
"Two lines of coke."

We were listening to California Love when your friend left my room at midnight
and you decided to stay longer and move onto the single bed of my dorm room.

I didn't ask for you and I to be alone in my room.
I didn't ask for bruises on my neck or a permanently locked door or a situation I never thought I'd end up in—
but somehow I ended up with them.

You want to be a model and it shows—
you wanted photos on your phone
of us making out before i kicked you out of my room
with a smile on my face because violence
is scarier when you could reciprocate it
(i know you're not above that).


you started crying because I am "so beautiful,"

taking off my shirt
"too beautiful to pass up."

"Like Barbie"

It took me twenty minutes to convince you to leave
with California Love playing again on my laptop.


California only loved you because they love ****** up try-hards who did too much coke once and dropped out of university.

I inject venom at your words
yet every syllable is still a password to Heaven.

It's easier to hate a lover than a stranger.

"Greedy, selfish
street fiend."

I long for the day
when happiness is intravenous.
When people don't find you so
sidewalk sadness.

Language is painless—
but somehow, we're
afraid of the words
that we painted.

I am
the butcher who chopped apart her soul—
Drained blood into words.
Ground the bones into a bag and
Fed it to the birds

Love hurts,
and so does lust.
But trust me now, somehow—
rough *** with a stranger
only endangered


my loneliness.