like the delicacy in a roadkill's silhouette
my teeth will leave a mark
an imprint from desire sunken gently through the surface
to break the skin like disturbing silent waters
i find some kind of aspect so alluring so grotesque
served cold over pavement
the world is the platter
the dish, my head

bearing marks of monthly faces
safety races faster than time
careful crime bothered the speed
of greedy circles eyeing ashes
car crashes sliding into birthdays
plastic rays bridging stolen gaps
of payments lasting grinning pity
in mercy city on planet danger
steady stranger listing sideways
right they form faced bullets
and same full pit lifeless mouths
sorrows endowed continue to consider
within her catching snap a melancholy tone
exposed and prone a younger mile crooked
pockets took its twelve fingers sworn
adorned on necklace rests
eternally festers in a sense
except intense purity wept confessed
anticipation checked and kept
nails curled over wire breaths
another morsel crept

to the store in the wind under clouds over wheels times two
I liked her hair; it was like mine
but no, I hadn't seen a chocolate lab
whipping cream sixty percent done stirred in sugar needs more sugar
needs more sweet
vanilla extract
extract joy then with snapped yells coursing in the veins of home
home... not really, just some walls, my heart isn't here
black pearls on fingers and necks and minds and upon my life
VPN poetry under cold sheets on a twin mattress
prayer beads of black pearls on the shelf
if it didn't take two hands to type
those pearls would be somewhere else

a new symphony
invited to a group
honored flattered
small dreams really
my short hair mistook
by thee an image shattered
sorry but new me
I think myself it suits
(so don't mind if I do)
not yet exact, sure
but we'll get there

seventy five percent and of the unprosetic words eighty some is silver. eighty some a studded cup, insulated yard sale zippers, two black doors, just like the hood of a past to a sister. sometimes the existence is painful, but with sweet will come bitter, merely wishing for peaceful decisions that do not fester but glimmer, although the fear is insurmountably weighted heavily pressed to the soul, and occasionally cracking the skull, creating a beat just to keep a distraction for temperature, redirection of heat, and tears under stars will shimmer with shivers of guilt - acceptance pending, as this will not wither, this will not wilt.

inside warm clothes and blanket
the one made for me by the drunken fingers of obligation and resignation
traded for several months of mine
I can't remember if it was ever a fair trade to begin with
once upon a time, though, I think I thought it was a win/win
funny how that is, time takes your experience
but experience takes your time
longing past relations glorified
only for myself to remind
of why it ended then
and why it should never begin again

hide as you do
but I will always find you
and forever reside inside you
your very skin the walls that keep me in
take me by the throat
just try to **** me and survive
you know you need me

he felt sweet care from the lips of god
a cry for help as bright as reason itself
but a simple burn needed steps to learn
yet silent hours screamed him fogged

what's a piece of poetry
type of textual pie
slice of life and of strife
human experience
for you here since
you asked so kindly
so politely
for some verse upon thy ears
tears upon thy cheeks
speak up another curse
another thought to seek
sleep to reimburse
hours burned inside your sight
what's a piece of poetry
type of textual pie

with your hand down my throat
sitting quietly crying
will you ever let go
though really i should ask
will i ever let it fall
from your grasp
and slip to the floor
and if i did
would it hurt even more

I would rather not see
I would rather not be
another on the shelf

an ear it aches of music tastes like splintered glass
running through an autoshop of metal broken last
on the couch the chair the ceiling flesh to reeling
the worm inside my head it writhes and twists
in pinkish pain it extorts contorts complains
wishes it were real insists the wrists were not
wrought untold to taint my mind it will own my
to the from with but then a next that we for pry
tears knitted back into the mouth of woeful lies
the entrance of a chasm barren grounds of feeding festered
nothing left completely ravished and the worm he is still famished

theres no green in the calendar
but whats it matter to me
maybe some things shouldnt be seen
i suppose its better to be separate
and honestly youre uninvited
its so enticing but frequently in reality
it only makes me sicker
i know im pickier, a lot more particular
like saying well trade circular
but thats a ******* line
(god forbid the take outs delivered)
i can only take it so many times
its starting to surface more often
like cutting my losses
sometimes i wonder if i should apologise
what is to life but to compromise
i guess ill unhappily trot along
and maybe ill choose to forget what i want

limbs held on by paperclips
your soul stapled to the heart
barely beating barely breathing
flickering footsteps waver
you were gone before the start

it is to both of you that i say your gaze is drowning -
in different ways but the result is nonetheless the same.
just to glimpse a look is to be ripped by the tide to sea for several days
i dont know what to tell you but i am on my knees on broken glass the eyes are windows to the soul but windows are not enough to hold an ocean. (though do not be mistaken not a drop originated from either of the two of you)
and i will take a shard to my chest
and offer my heart to you then
for what else could i possibly give
for an apology such as this

version purity
ride code sincere stormy appearance
bold
footprints set aside
soaking dearly nerve panic
vanished image seeks inside
victims veins rusty bills
knotted patches of poverty
knowledge latches on sovereignty
numbness calls the novelty
unheard of pleading thrills

to forever reside in rapture exotic
reverence heroic and calming melodic
will it ever be within me
to see the stars as she sees
drowned in my fear psychotic
stress noticed and intellect chaotic
I hope to one day
be the way that she bes
her charm unending rhapsodic

a flock carried the horizon across the window and i think about what i wanted to look at in that mirror when the covers were reflective of nothing in particular. i dont think that this is entirely sustainable but i cant bring myself to anything different

comforts of assumptions and reiterated traction within nothing like presumptuous consumption wrapped around, engulfed in told entirely - in all of its entirety, left among a cold untouched impression of forgotten yet perpetually experienced emotion, indignation on the paper like an unexposed proposal to ever stagnat motion

i had to take off my glasses when i tried to convey the depth of it. its not that im nearsighted its just that the lenses are not crystal, if thays clear. transparent like the ice inside a silicone tray, would you decline to drink the sky? stars do softly clinking inside a waterbottle, the flavor of the universe converging in my palms and concentrated night pouring from my eyes - do you understand?

i would write a poem down
but that would be "a waste of paper" wouldnt it
something you dont want to read
i mean theres no one else right
theres nothing else right
a magazine can only ever be read
the only want the only need
theres no one else right

"im trying to be quiet but im yelling at you"
i dont think you understand the meaning of that word
i dont think you understand the meaning of a lot of words
like love or family or boundary
who can say theres a problem when theyve repackaged
it doesnt need to be solved if it isnt an issue
you dont need to learn if you already know
that control is a synonym for care
that power is the definition of parenthood
you are entitled to manipulation afterall
i must apologize that i forgot

isnt it so wonderful
and why arent you happier
maybe you could write it down
but i think that would be a waste of paper
wouldnt it

if i told you id like it if we all studied together would you report me. would you call me out would you say it to my face could we have a conversation or would you even notice. perhaps youre too busy tutoring the student that is nice but never studies. perhaps all you can see is the potential or is it really just the past. i feel like you are holding on too tightly to something that wont return i feel like i am lying i am reading too closely i am angry i am jealous i am overanalyzing the text but she wouldnt tear the paper for you, couldnt hold the brush. but i guess thats just not what everyone wants.

how many months how many years
will i have to live with such terrifying fear
or is that simply what comes with it
and would a plastic bottle **** it
but do i even want to know