I walk along a trapeze,
palms sweaty, legs shaking,
refusing to fall either way.
to go left is to fall into a fire
for a life which burns my bones.
the people will smile upon me,
oblivious to the ash surrounding them.
to go right is to fall into soft trees.
the leaves caress my skin,
but the people vanish like smoke,
and I fall to the ground.
the exact middle is survival
until I reach the other side.

today i felt like laying down
and sleeping soundly in the ground

i'd decompose with all the bugs
that died from overdose on drugs

my hips would grind against boney narcs
like pornstars and pervs in a public park

yes, i'd like to be six feet under
singing with drug-induced wonder

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The only taste.

No life, no death, only ΒΟΝΕ.

Unravel me.
Plunge your fingers into the depths
of my anatomy-
wade into my rufescent flesh,
strum my fibers,
find me in the fissures
of my ivory bones---
then come back to the surface,
cling to the brims of my clavicles,
and tell me how
beautiful I am.

I'm the kind of girl who burns through guy friends like rubber on tiers, like sulfur on matches, like gasoline and kerosine and flameward moths.
But I don't want to burn through you.
We just go together so well—like puzzle pieces.
You and I are like day and night, sun and moon.
If you only knew how it eats me up inside, keeping my cool.
I feel this tiny spark dancing in my heart and it threatens to rake my body in flames, ready to pounce on me, licking and biting at the first sign that I'm falling for you.  
I'm really trying to hold my fuse right now, but one second we're joking and laughing and in the next you say something that tugs at me and I feel my hold on it slipping.
If I don't burn you first, this fire in my bones will certainly consume me.

He comes, she goes, no one every really sticks around much.
It rains, the sun bares its face, the clouds come back to steal it’s thunder.
Nothing is ever set in stone
Well, except for maybe human bones and Founding Fathers.

This is a poem I quickly threw together after I heard the line “Since when did my apartment become your watering hole of choice?” —Dan Humphery, Gossip Girl, S2:E22, 21:45-21:40. The last two lines are a play on Mount Rushmore and the setting, Founding Fathers, a bar that often appears in the hit TV Drama, Bones. In the show, Dr. Temperance Brennan, Agent Booth, and their friends often meet at FF for drinks after work. The poem is basically saying, “Nothing is certain, except alcohol and my favorite watering hole.”

i have never tried drugs,
some pills that could make me intoxicated
as i was already high on happiness.
but then i realized,
self love which was the spark
behind my positivity is vanishing.
i was horrified.
it has become a drug to myself
that i couldn't imagine my soul working without it.
my passion needed more doses
of self love, and i couldn't make it anymore.
at that time, i wished—
if self love can be found in forms
of pills and drugs,
then i already would have been intoxicating.
but i never got it.
i thank myself at that time
for stoping myself as sometimes
self love isn't important as long as
you are breathing.
other than your blood, flesh and bones
anything can make you go insane.
so it's better to stay on earth
and stop doing our drugs of different obsessions.