red halos around angel necks
tapping feet
cold ***** breath

sky dark maroon
no golden sun
sweet grassed licked by the devils tongue

You’ll cry like your mother
And scold like your father
Death seems not a sorrow thing
Painted with the deepest grief
Hollow packed inside your bones
for the dead is not living and the fear is unknown
Scabbed and scarred
Stuck beneath the teeth
It sneaks into your midnight's dream

A nightmare

At seven I heard the story of Peter Pan;

Growing up wasn't part of his plan.

I wish he'd fly through my window sill,

When the stars are bright and the lakes are still.

I would ask him to take me to Neverland,

Where growing up has always been banned,

And never planned.

I'd never have to hear my parents fight,

Everything would finally be alright.

He'd take me through the sky in one big leap,

Over rivers and through mountains steep.

Second star to the right.

Straight on till morning; through the night.

To Neverland.


I'd meet the infamous Tinkerbell,

I knew we'd get on well.

I’d hear her jibber-jabber,

Among the laughter.

I could see Mermaid Lagoon,

As we sink Captain Hook's platoon.

I can join the lost boys; form a family.

Away from the land of the ******; my ruthless reality.

Meet the brave Tiger-Lily,

We could be perfectly silly.

And meet the crocodile who tried to **** time, eating a clock.

Tick tock, tick tock.

I may be able to find a treasure trove.

Maybe I can make a home in a cozy cove.

Peter and I would be as thick as thieves,

I’d make him a crown of leaves.

We will live forever.

To age, we will never surrender.

To live will be an awfully big adventure.

Too far from Peter, I'd never venture.

All you need is faith, trust and pixie dust,

Or you might just combust.


You just have to believe

and you will never have to grieve

and no one would ever leave.

I'd never have to be strong.

I'd never have to care for long.

So let us begin the journey.

To Neverland.

My timeless eternity.

My fantasy.

My delightful daydream.

My bittersweet destiny.

My dreams of Neverland have yet to cease.

And I am already in my late teens.

I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.
I wonder when the shadows will take a hold and pay the toll.
I hear screaming in my head with the silence of the night.
I see the future in my way without a guiding light.
I want to hide from the reflecting emotional troll.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

I pretend to be the hero but I’m really in distress.
I feel like fitting in with every girl but I’d like myself even less.
I touch the darkness where it meets the light, when the sun becomes the moon.
I worry about the vicious fight, the princess verses the goon.
I cry when my heart becomes a weak unreachable hole.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

I understand the melody that’s rising with these flames.
I say I love who I am but I’m tired of the games.
I dream about a man but I can never see his face.
I try to find the puzzle piece, one that fits in place.
I hope to be the diamond, not the unfavorable coal.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

I was going to do my homework
Then the washer went off
And the clothes reaped of daisies
And all I could think of were flowers

Sooner or later my homework will be done
Then a deer interrupted my thoughts
Grazing on the grass
I gazed from my window
I haven’t seen one this close

I meant to be productive
Till a woodpecker pecked
And a mockingbird sang a verse
While a hawk belted the chorus
They formed a little bird band.

Wait…

What was I gonna do again?

Walking into first period I am a 12-year-old girl again,
Confidence turned into racing heartbeats and jumbled words.
Imaginary conversations fill my head with possibilities but nothing ever seems to escape my lips but a timid smile.
I trash my spearmint gum and begin walking back to my seat, the teacher has only just begun talking.
I take three steps before daring to look up,
by the fourth I see blue out of my peripheral...
You are looking at me.
The fifth step, I am looking at you.
And for the entirety of that second all the other faces of the room blurred and I swear the history lesson took a pause for the present and there was solely that simple look to be shared.
A look I have found to be all too familiar but yet it never comes enough to be able to fully decipher it.
It is a look of timid desire.
It is a look of fire and ice, of two elements of opposite worlds colliding.
It is a look of earth and water.
A sly romance which everyone sees but no one knows.
Water hits the shore and I am chocolate melting, I am soil eroding.
I am the tree's branches bending under the misty wind.
I am the earthquake that causes the hurricane, the tsunami.
Yet you are calm like the tranquil sea.
Your eyes the color of the shallow water on a southern beach just before the break of a gentle wave at shore in the first hour of sunrise.
I think of you, and there are butterflies.
I look at you, and they rest.
We both simultaneously break our glance as I turn to my seat.
Oh, how I wish you were sitting next to me.

Let me tell you about how I run
There are a couple of ways but none of them are fun.

There's a "move the **** out of my way" kind of run
Shot at by some man with a gun
Running over old ladies and children
To get the hell out and save my own skin
Kind of run...

And there's the "cliche blonde running through my head all day"
Where I don't get exercise, but she seems to sweat away
The pounds of brains until I'm dumbfoundedly dumb
And I find myself passed out on the couch with a bottle of ***
And a headache that makes me want to blow my brains out
Cause I can't get some Aspirin and a good woman to ******* out
Kind of run...

And there's the angsty little man that runs from home
Fighting his abusive dad and his best friend "hormone"
When he gets a kick in the nuts named reality
and a left hook to the face named puberty
by Mike Tyson riding a bison
Who leans over and whispers "you lost the fight son"
Kind of run...

Then there are the times when I run my fingers over the typewriter
Making more mistakes than a single stared wasted waiter
Running my imagination that nobody wants to hear on a page
A ******* that nobody will ever notice on stage
Lost in cut out hearts and origami cranes
and on washed out newspapers on old broken trains
kind of run...

However, there is a time when I actually get off my *** to run
But It hurts cause I'm a beached walrus with my *** in the sun
Flopping on land and trying to swim through concrete
Unable to see that I have 2 feet
cause there are 2 feet of fat that is constricting my view
Of who I am and what I'm really able to do
Kind of run...


And this is the part of the poem when I run away to Spain
Clearly, I can’t run that far so I guess I’ll take a plane
And I’ll bring the beautiful blonde with me in a first class spa
And I’ll walk into Spain saying “Su casa es mi Casa
But it will never be the other way around
Cause if I see you on my property you’ll be six feet underground
Kind of run...