the bathtub was clean
(though hair plugged the drain)
the pills were scattered,
the bottles the same
the mirror was smashed,
and blood on the floor
a chair was wedged against the door
her mouth was open,
but her eyes were closed
and this image stays with her
wherever she goes.


s.h.

cognitive dissonance
destroyed our innocence
like spirits, it spat at us
like scabs, it picked at us
licked our scars and tickled us
****** with us, ash to dust
40% misery, 60% lust
the marrow in these bones
has begun to rust
but truth is not
the same as trust
and hearts like ours
were meant for disgust

she awoke
in the duskiest night
in the ever-shrinking
embrace of the light
tore at the metal,
that blameless steel
(winced as her teeth forgot to feel)
nails meet gums, and gums won't heal
nail beds make contact with rubber and blood;
veins escape skin, then unleash to flood
fingertips betray goosebumps
and you call this love?

one morning
mama had
a nasty surprise
her sweet little angel
was filled up with lies
lash to lids,
blood covered her eyes

and all that remained of her braces
were flies.

my thoughts rarely listen to me;
often unruly,
they spout wings,
they break things,
alight on clouds like lofty kings.

they circle your windows, day and night.
they keep you in mind when you are out of my sight.
if i let them take me,
they will soar again across this ocean
no whistling winds to shake me.

when i let these notions wander,
i hear your moans like thunder.
they take me to midnight, to Malibu,
to purple cars, to stars, to ragged breaths--
and to you.

the whites of your eyes
could light up these skies;
but i ache to follow my mind as it flies,
i ache to diminish this distance.
though it's nothing compared to the scope of your sighs.

when my mind wanders
(as it's been known to do)
five thousand and eighty seven miles
shrinks to just a few.

soot, steam, broken beams
the moon gives off its sickly sheen
Mars and the stars
might make a good team,
but lightyears and time warps are not what they seem

badly behaved scars are finally burning out of fashion;
this sunset-stained skin is just a distraction.
if space is a vacuum,
and devoid of passion,
if violence is golden and we pray for inaction.
then the love you couldn't feel
for the things you had to steal
just wasn't right, and wasn't real.

so bow to the stillness, surrender and kneel;
pretend the darkness if not nipping at your heels,
pretend that you are made
of molten gold and liquid steal.
for your lashes are ashen, your cheeks are charred.
your footprints are formed from embers and tar.
your framented fingertips are immutably marred.

and she never intended
for it to turn out this way -
for her rotten heart to seethe with decay -
and if you ask her politely, all she will say
is that she did her best
to keep the twilight at bay.

impact


paint myself with
pastels
so you can’t see the scars

the neon realities hide under my skin
but
they don’t quite blend in

technicolor veins trace
apologies
across my skin like lace

and the sight of my
face leaves something in your
mouth, a bitter
taste

the put-together people who
haunt the daylight like
ghosts
they don’t know. they don’t
know

they have such an impact and they don’t even
know

you had such an impact
and you
don’t even know.

it’s a different kind of
high
but it’s just as heady.
it’s a different kind of
lie,
but it’s just as
heavy.