Your found your wings
passing the forty-third floor
but (like a baby bird)
you couldn't figure out how to use them yet—


and you used them, then
on your way to
the heaven that you had never
believed in.

The modern battle
     Of science and art,
Takes up space,
     Within my heart.

The beauty of rebel symmetry,
And lines in every direction,
Commands equal attention from me,
As the brain's constant connection.

But, suppose, they ever did combine...
Possessing traits from the art and science mind,
To successfully dominate
                                both their kind.

It's a
    Hit-after-hit
Spitting image of the gutter.

Needle sewn to the vein,
chained to the mind,
Finding God, only to
     Fall.

All these
Psychedelic-whatevers,
No use for names.

Just effects,
Just feelings.

My spine is snapping
And dripping
Out acid.

It is, an odd feeling
Of
Who am I?

Getting darker as the night does
(Yet)
It is not even midnight?

It is, realization.
That perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
I took
You took
Maybe one or two or ten
too many tablets.

Gorging yourself on your finger to
Save your life.

That inveterate thought of
"Please don't be too late"
Is when you know
I know
It's too far
Gone.

I sip my drink in waterfalls
looking to fill a hole
whose origin I haven't quite
yet figured out.
I make the same mistake
because maybe I can fill this void
with all the luck of the 3rd time
with all the regrets of the coming 4th.

don't you ******* touch my skin
with your tainted fingertips
i'm a painter but even i
won't touch my lips
to hands that once held her
hips during *** and sin

don't you ******* touch my skin

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.

some boy once told me
when we were 16
"the way i see it, it's either you or the drugs— and i know which one i've chosen"
when i remembered that,
i laughed—
because it's funny
how three years
can change you.
it's funny, too
because when i laughed
i blew
the line away.

Wordless,
She says
she loves me.

Worldless,
she does
not
breathe.

Was it you who
Undid the button of my
Discipline

Was it you who
Released the clasp on my
Curiosity

Was it you who
Slid off the fabric of my
Rebellion

Was it you who
Unleashed my skin on
The world.

I wrote a love-letter to my demons
on the soft, tainted skin
of your back.

Sin has a name
Shaded on you,
in black.

When we were nine, you left your mother's home and told
the world you were going travelling. I still wait—
Hoping that maybe one day you will return with your sanity.

I have been waiting twelve years for you—and nineteen years from now,
I will be nineteen—because today is the day I start living,
sanely.

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

This Demon screams,
This Demon moans.
He slices my soul,
He breaks my bones.

He takes over my body,
Only to kick, to scream,
And when he is done,
He rips at my seam.

He’s got other Demon friends
With plans underway.
They grab at my arms,
They pull me away.

The destination is isolated;
A building of brick.
A man adressed himself as, “Doctor,”
Isn’t that sick!?

His comrade in white dress,
A clipboard and a voice that sings
She smiles at me with metal, sharp.
Such odd delusions, this ***** brings.

These Demons do tests,
To determine my will.
Scans and long needles,
A daily purple pill.

My least favorite torture,
They call, “Spinal tap,”
I’m breaking, I’m breaking,
I am a twig; I snap.

I yell and I scream,
As they put me to sleep.
The only sound now,
Is the metronome’s beep.

I’m normal, I swear!
It’s this Demon in me!
But the “Doctor” calls different,
He mutters, *“Insanity…”

this ship merits no singing of sad songs
cleaned my decks, the salt water is gone.

In  the  first day of  physics,
the    teacher    asked    who
thought they were average.
Nobody  raised  their  hand.
But  if  we're  all  dif­ferent,
then doesn't that make it the

average?

I hope it hurts again
when you drop your vice.
I know it certainly burned when
you let me go.
There's still a hole
in your heart.

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

you tell me i—
am spiraling downwards,
but why do i—
see clouds?

My pulse skips from rocky mountains/ to rolling hills/ to plateaus./
glaciers to deserts—
my skin deserts the ground.

They fell down from the sky, they did, their orders.
They came from a place, somewhere higher, then, than we were.
Something higher, then, than us.

my ***** heart is hungover
overdue for a kickstart
startled and *******
all for you,
all for you.

Threw
my hand to my heart
fingers on the needle.
Plunged it
down.
(My hand
hit yours
on its path!)

Oh,
Intensity.

Do you not
feel as good
as I do
right next
to you?

When I tell
you of how
I feel, you
say, "shut up.
You're not
sober."

Yes?
Does that have
something to
do with this?

I love you
still in the high.
In the morning
after.
In the crest of
waiting for my next
dip.

If I were sober
for a straight amount
of the little time
that we have,
I would love
you then
like I love
you now.

can't live in the past
can't live in the future
can't live in the present

can't live
can't live
can't die.

*(i am alive)

Do not trust in me, my dear.
I can make you fall farther,
     than your deepest fear.

I’ll break your bones,
I’ll break your heart.
Your head is a bullseye,
and my hand holds a dart.

I’ll give you bruises, (accidentally!)
royal purple and a cobalt blue.
Because if I can’t even trust myself…
Why in the world should you?

You call me a sinner but I am sure I am a saint—
My body is a temple and I will let you worship it.

Fibonacci was wrong:
the only fingerprint that God left
is on the corner of my thigh.

Hopeless, yeah.
A little useless
and destructive

but ****, it made me happy.

A plane flies off through the window.
257 people go to Heaven as
A plane flies off through the window.

Heat from you ignites the fuse,
to spark my static thoughts.
An explosion in my black night sky,
adorned with unimportant dots.

You are the only star that matters.

My needy being owns these feelings
that my mind cannot control.
Gravity of 10 black holes.
    The closer, the clearer.
    Burn me when I get nearer.

You are as rare as a supernova.
    So bright.
    So vivid.
    So far away.
Through a million lightyears delay,
I will watch your reflection in the sea.

Shine for me.

Let me bask in your chemical composition.
Hydrogen and helium in nuclear fission.
Soak into me,
    poison me.

You are the reason for my lack of sleep.
The reason I pray to the stars.
Not Venus, nor Mercury, nor Mars.

I am relaxed with only you.
You are divine.
    Even if you don't realize.

Cloud cannot keep me from you.
Lightning and all the others
are nothing when your glow is mine.

Shine.

Poet, so silly, doesn't realize
or recognize
I have put him to idolize.

There's a reason that bird was yellow.

Caged inside a coal mine.
Told to do his job and die for society.
Outrageous.


Merit, melancholy. Contagious.

My ears ring.
My mind vibrates.
I answer the call of

another life.

true love doesn't die

true love doesn't die
but it ends
and we look through glass windows
at a time we both wonder if we can touch again—
but we can't.
if we break the glass,
our hands will bleed
and happiness isn't worth the hurt again.
happiness isn't worth anything to do with you

you said you wanted my lips
and i laughed at the way you worded it
and the way you thought
you didn't have them already.
almost as if
we haven't been speaking
our entire lives.
almost as if
you weren't even listening
to every word i gave to you

I met a girl at a house party, once,
whose boyfriend I had slept with
the previous semester before that.
We looked at each other—never
met—and the gaze held for just
a single second too long than it
should have. I knew, and she knew.
Sometimes you have a secret and
you can see it reflected in the eyes of
someone who knows. Who also knows.

I have been sharing a secret with just myself but
I saw that look in his eyes last night.

The addict and his needle
She holds him by command.

Love, infectious as she comes..
concrete is like her hand.

and still he picks her up again
and still he holds her close
Still he puts her to his vein and both
They overdose.

So many questions
    flood my head.
Do you know what I thought?
    Did you hear what I said?

When does the heart begin beating,
    and consciousness start?
When will the sun stop shining,
    and humanity fall apart?

Are there things in outer space,
besides the stars so bright?
What happens when a black hole
***** in all the light?

Is the world going to end
in my short lifetime?

    My short lifetime.
So many lives to impact.
So many things to do.
So many things to go through.

Too short.


I want to try everything.
    Know everything.
    Do everything.
    Be everything.

Can I pull off a ******?
Or be a famous Hollywood Actress?
Will I do drugs?
When all my family all dies,
Will I cry for them?

Am I just going to burn out like a star,
and work the average human life,
with no trouble or strife?

So many things for me to try.
    To taste.
    To see.
    To feel.
Will I accomplish it all before I die,
in my short lifetime?
So many lives to impact.
So many things to do.
So many things to continue.

Will humanity fall
in my short lifetime?
Will I ever learn it all?

Am I ever going to fall in-love?
Get called on by the Heavens above?

Heavens above.
Is there really a God up there?
Does our makeshift prophet really care?
About us? About the world? About one person?

Will I travel across the world,
to see it for it's glory and shine.
I want all the world's treasure's to be mine.
    All of them.

Will I find the perfect life,
    in this world?
Will I find the perfect man,
not too distant, not too needy?
I want all the world's riches.
I have to be greedy.

In my short lifetime,
will I commit a vicious crime?

My short lifetime.
So many lives to impact.
So many things to do.
So many things I wish I knew.

I am the problem of my creator
I am the creation of my problems

Rusted butterflies swoop
Fall into the copper canyons of



My tires.

Love hurts
Is what they have been telling you
And you thought that they meant
when Morgan told you that engineering was more important than you, or
when Michael didn't recognize you
In the grocery store, or
when Matt didn't talk to you after you had *** in his fourth floor downtown condo.



Love hurts
When your father would rather
Put a cigarette into coal asthmatic lungs
Than catch the 14:23 train to
Roma Termini station.
Your head was in your mother's lap
For each and every of the 32 minutes
Of countryside crossing.

heaven is 4837km away
(if you take the I90)
and i would walk every mile
to find my wings on your doorstep.

The sun doesn't shine in December
The sea doesn't sway in fall.
May nor June didn't open their eyes and August never loved me at all.

I have been wishing
for smiles
in sleep.

For sleep in smiles.

Sanctimonious.
Sacreligious.

We're all just grinding in that repetition

(Is next year a parallel line or are we caught
in the circle.)

The cycle drops you into a craze.



I get an invite to the future.

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.

Chalk, felt, feather-pens.
construction paper ends
glued to gift you a shift in-
to happiness:
You need bliss.
You don't have bliss.



I can give you this.

Days away from you
Are frequent and cruel--


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

when the humble
bend their necks
we show to them
no humility.

I have a lust for fire and a taste of ice.


We are the humanity which created a cunning device
called, "language."

It is not wrong vs oppositional right
Opinions change, and rock, and sway

We are not black and white;
We are shades of gray.