Sometimes
we don't express our feelings, not because
we are afraid,
simply because we just
can't.

Sometimes
the words that envelope our minds and tear holes in our hearts
simply don't exist in the
real world.

Sometimes
the vocabulump that is crawling up your throat and gagging you is
simply a cloud of air that means
nothing.

Sometimes
we just can't.

Her presence stole rooms,
and she knew it.
She walked the streets
with the moon in her pocket
and the stars in her eyes.
She had everyone on their knees
before her,
and she owned it.
She loved her lovers and she loved her haters.
Heels higher than New York skyscrapers
and standards to match.
She was no good,
but my god,
she was beautiful.

I watch the water tumble into my class, swirling and rocking
You're speaking but I can't understand a word that's coming out
Like wind on a beach, their meanings are lost
I'm drowning with every syllable
like the waves you made in my glass of water.

I said I never leave you but its
4am and I'm out here alone and
its freezing and I'm shaking and I'm
sorry that I lied.

sometimes I write poems about emotions
that I have no first-hand experience with
simply because I can sympathize with how they may feel
to you
or you
or you
I can understand how your stomach can turn and twist and sink
how you can despise yourself will all of your being
and cry in silence because of something I can't hear
In hopes that some of you can understand what it might feel like
for me
or him
or her
Empathy is so rare today, that all I can search for, is sincerity in strangers
and how lucky I am to have found a stranger to love, a lover to understand
and how lucky you could be if you found empathy in strangers
and if strangers could understand it all.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder
I say that’s *******
Distance makes the heart suffer
Distance took my heart and plucked its petals
one
by
one

It holds me tight
Too tight, until my breath gets short and my legs go numb
Distance built a nest in my mind out of fragmented memories
I will never let go of
Memories that are now so distant I can no longer cherish their brilliance
or remember their fragrance

This distance is a cry that cannot be silenced
It is the side of the bed where you should be lying
It is the dial tone when you hang up the phone
It is the dreaded groan of waking up alone
Distance is disappointment
The hollow echo of loneliness
My vacant arms
Distance is sorrow

We have no choice but to be bold

Distance is the strength found where hope was lost
Distance decorates the wings of the butterflies that
f l u t t e r
in my stomach when the distance disappears
As the miles between us fall apart, distance falls quiet
A moment of reunion
A moment outside of time
Building bravery in our cores
Steadying us for battle once more
Mounting our horses, drawing our swords
We are bold.

Distance keeps our memories close to home
It is the struggle that taught us how to be brave when we are alone
Distance is the challenge
To determine how much we can handle
Distance pushes our love to its limit
Distance is brilliance in the tragedy of our goodbyes

an angry argument thrown at an opponent as arrows shoot across the battlefield over an expensive bottle of Cabernet.

walls and borders mapped out in thick pencil lines, they hastily marked their territory before it all drowned in earthy blood-red.

Fresh pepper, sir?

the world woke up silent today.
no whispers on the pavement, nor
a whistle of wind between branches.
even the train rolled by in silence.
it's like the entire world had been hushed by the
snowfall.

My grandmother always says that
boredom is for boring people
So next time you spit
"I'm bored"
think about who you are.

all angels
have demons
demons that breed
that feed
on angelic hues
every angle wing
feather by feather
plucked by demons
temptation is
unavoidable
the sultry taste of
evil
is tempting to all
seductive, even
and that is why
all angels
give way
to their
demons

bliss. is often blind
to any sort of
complications.

bliss. is often mistaken
for something far more
mundane.

bliss. can be broken
in an instant
with a single word.

waves and waves of
crushed ice
rolling over
tumbling
scarring.
more wine
please
over my crushed
ice
please.

In French,
you don't actually say
I miss you
you say
you are missing from me
- you are essential to my being.
you are like an *****, a limb, my bloodstream.
I cannot be without you.


how incredibly poetic.

two cars stuck in
traffic turning
left blinking in
opposite harmony
in time with the
beating hearts of
fellow hurried
drivers at rush
hour in the heart
of the city just get
me home to my
bed alone where
I can mope until
dinner comes a
calling caught that
yellow light I'm
finally on my
way and there it
is again that
******
yellow
light.

Every responsibility
is an opportunity to prove
that you are
exceptional.
Take every assignment
as a chance to prove
to the whole world
that you are
one of a kind.
You were born you,
you were born to be you
and you are here to be the best you
that you can be.

Life consists of nothing but
coincidences.
Loud rushes of connections
that seem completely
unconnected.
Beneath all the nonsense,
the non-sensible,
there is order.
A system so tight and meticulous
there is no room for
chaos.

sometimes
after dark
in the lonely hours
i can see the mark you've left
hovering over that side of the bed
and i hate this feeling that you've left mad.

I've never been shy
around you before
But today
oh, so suddenly
My knees have grown weak.
I cannot steady my
breathing pattern,
nor my trembling lips.
Unable to speak,
I can only mumble.
Hysteric words explode
in my mind, but
all I can say is
Hi.

We are all playing the same game
we're just on different levels

We are all dealing with the same hell
we're just fighting different devils

We are all battling with the same wounds
we just have different scars

We are all lost in this mixed up world
but we are all wishing on the exact.  same.   stars.

lay your head, my darling.
sink deep into the down fillings
and listen to the moments pacing by.
as they slow to match your steady heart rate, you shall become
one with the clouds.
trickles of dreams will welcome you into your subconscious -
where reality may fall to pieces and the worries of the day
will perish.
sprout wings, sweet dreamer.
soar to the furthest corners of your imagination.
find peace.
swim with the stars and collect all of your wishes. count the red ones and the blue ones and the yellow ones and the green ones, for I have sent prayers to each one in hopes for your sweet return.

what a funny concept
learning life through the teachings of others

who are you to teach
me about your interests

who are you to tell me
to buy your book and memorize it.

who the **** are you
to test me on it.

school is not my forté
nor should it be yours

because school is for the weak
I learn through experience.

not mid-terms.

like the burst of livelihood just before a soul escapes
or the ignition of the ocean just before the sun collapses
my mind flashes an iridescent scope of ultraviolet colours
just before my mind slips into slumber.
a panicked array of worries and memories shooting through the canals of my brain
faster than lightening bolts    in every direction
and then
dreamland

nothing quite like it
so crisp and pure
angelic, almost.

sent from the heavens
drifting every so slowly
white solitude.

I think about the number of faces I see each day
and the number of faces I forget.
and the number of strangers who see my face each day
and the number of strangers who forget me.

I think about how easy it is to literally just pass by
and how many people live their lives simply
passing by one another, passing one after another
and how many people forget and how many remember.

I think about how many faces there are in this world
and how many faces I can sincerely say I know

emerging from this bottomless darkness
I can see the rays of light just yonder
stretching the furthest stretch my arms will allow
grasping for anything lighter than black
hues of dimness or even a hint of shimmer
get me out of this dark I've been living in
let me see the light, let me in.

I woke in the middle of the night
to take note of this poem that came to mind -
a poem of all the poems I've written
of love and demise
our ups and downs, the fall-outs,
the make up ***, the up-rise.

All the times you roll over in the middle of the night and whisper the sweetest words I'll ever listen to.
The waking-up smirks, yawns, and hand-holding.
The scent of your plaid shirts draped over my shoulders on all the walks back from the ice cream parlour.
Each beer can that was tossed away, and clammered onto the kitchen floor.
I have bad aim.
The growing pile of shared space and objects and gifts, exchanged for no reason at all, other than our love, also shared.
The time I fell asleep with my finger in between your lips, comforted by the closeness that one finger had with your heart.
The hours spent driving to and from and circling seemingly endless parking lots.
The cigarettes shared, second-hand while holding hands.
The second glances,
"what" "what?"
"nothing, I just love you so much."

so sick of wasting words
on these formalities

honesty and truth is
I'll never be the same again

please never leave my side.

Running freely through an
open field of daisies
She leaped and rose and soared
and she flew.
Outstretched arms that grew into wings,
she ****** every last bit of gas
from those stars in the night sky.
She was finally alive.
And suddenly, as she inhaled her last fiery breath,
she crashed.
Falling heavily, suddenly, faster than she had ever risen,
she fell through the clouds that she once had danced with.
And as she saw the daisies falling with her,
she collided with the depths of Hell.

welcome to sin city
where the lord, himself
will allow it all
anything goes
***** out
knees deep
take your hair down
******* and bellhops and
lust
welcome to sin city
where the faucets
run blood
you can have it all
or you can loose it all
risk takers and money makers
screams and shrieks and
moans
welcome to sin city

I honestly believe
that I would be
a much better person if i were
c o n s t a n t l y
slightly drunk.
Because alcohol
is honesty,
really.
I would rather be semi-unconscious
and honest
than ignorant and sober.
Sobriety is holding back
stifling our opinions with politeness
Politically-correctness
Anguish.

stupid people asking the same
  stupid questions
thriving on the electricity of being so full of **** they were probably
born into it

high off their heels
their pills
their *******

collapsed in his arms
his gifts
his lies

lost in the parking lot
the shopping mall
the mortgage

You stupid girl.
What did you expect?

how do you let someone go
when you were the one who convinced him to love you?

how do you break his heart
after you were the one who picked up the pieces?

Envious
    ******.

What fake, plastic, pathetic
    ******.
Alone and lost     caged
            within their aliases
Their urged embraces turn to
meaningless     ***; a false sense of security

Rich, spoiled, tragic
    ******.                    
Their egos towering, fiery and hot
hiding from rejection
guarding their sincerity
it’s disgraceful

Rest, you sad
    ******.
Embrace reality

Are you afraid?

can you see yourself?

the dull acid dripping
off your tongue with every word you murmur -
merely allusions of misery.

and that storm cloud you carry around with you on such a
short leash - as if being struck by a single sun beam would burn you
to the ground in an instant

but you are bright enough to put the stars out on the street and
send the moon running.

and in a race with the galaxies, you could surely win
if you wanted to.


true agony
is watching you put out your own light.

Is this what depression feels like?
Is depression something you can feel like
or is it just       as is?
I'm not hungry and I'm always tired
and I can't pinpoint it.
Everything is barreling down on top of me
and I can't surface for a even minute of air.
I quit my job.
Drowning and collapsing
I feel like the world around me is getting smaller
and I only have
so much time to do so many things
but I can't      there's nothing
and yet           there's everything all at once.
Help me.
Guide me.
Show me the light
so I can run towards it      full speed
and never return.

I can see them watching me
Their ****** eyes
drenched in degrading thoughts
Their horrible lips
thirsty for my body
I can hear their minds ******* me
their fantasies playing out like
gory horror films
They develop provocative expectations of
promiscuity
just because I'm pretty.
I don't like being gawked at
Stop that
No
Don't touch me
Don't
But they can't hear me.
Their minds have already bared my body and ***** my innocence.
All before I've even crossed the street.

I don't miss you
your condescending advice
your height
your words of

I'm just lonely.

I can't
breathe and my palms are sweaty and my
legs have gone numb but I can see my knees
trembling and I can feel my cheeks getting
hot as the blood in my veins pours into my
sterile heart and back out into my stream of
unconsciousness and I'm screaming but the
noise just won't come out and I'm screaming and
I'm screaming and I'm screaming but I'm silent.

to travel the world
seems like awfully big
accomplishment

to see every sight there is
every spice and every sunset
how cultured you would be
if you had seen it all
how knowledgeable and wise

well-traveled

you could run the world
if you had to

to travel the world
will be my biggest and brightest
accomplishment

this world is a tough place to make it.
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Thank you so much for your support.
xoxo

We are ****** into this world
naked and squawking
Shielding, the best that we can,
from the unknown.

We work and we strive
for things we don't need
and we wait for the day
we are flung into a hole.

I've read all my readings and
I'm watching an episode of
Skins and I'm trying to settle
the copious amounts of vino
I've consumed over the last
5 hours while I lie in bed waiting for
you to reply with an answer of
whether I should leave my bed to
meet you so that I can be in your
bed or if I should just keep lying
here watching this episode of
Skins and consume a little bit more
vino before I fall nervously into a
lonely slumber

There are so many poems out there
so many **** poems about the same
**** thing.
It makes me sick to my stomach
thinking about all these ******* poems
and ******* poets
sitting around on their *****
pouring their feelings onto a page
that no body gives a **** about.
Suckers.
It's a suckers game, really.
What poor, pathetic poets we all are.
Sitting around on our ******* ***** writing stupid poetry
for no one but ourselves.
Well I'll tell you something -
if you like this stupid ******* poem,
I'm sure I'll like your stupid ******* poem.

Yours truly.

I've got only one reply
I know not what to say
but I talk and talk and slur
the words that mean just one.

the flutters in your stomach may
leave a sparkle in your eye which
will dance to the beat of your heart
and the slipper may fit but will it give you blisters when you walk so
think about that tingle and if that is all you need since
all that matters first to you is you so
first you've got to lose your mind before you ever truly fall for someone else's.

remember all those words I wrote
begging you to look my way,
to open up and let me catch you.
I remember thinking how I just
had to have you or I'd die
but death would be a promise
cause I never thought you'd fall.
Then all the sudden, in a moments notice
We were falling
though galaxies and shooting stars
so incredibly fast and so incredibly hard
and now I can honestly tell you
how much I love to hear you tell me
how much you love me.