Sometimes a single apple
Can ruin the whole lot.
crumbling into bruised wrinkles
and spotty, brown lumps.
the bowl is brimming with the sundown of a harvest's life,
and flies begin to swarm.
And even when some are left,
bright and fresh,
I won't go near them,
for fear of turning them over and finding the ugly,
evidence of their flaws.
Just like the others,
because they allow for an optimism,
in your hunger,
you allow the glimmer of hope
and reach for one
it's just like the others,
pretending to be something that can satiate your needs,
when in truth,
it's just another piece of rotting fruit.
kids shouldn't go to rehab at fifteen
but you sent me anyways
which was too many days
I made a best friend there
her name was xollie
she talked of her life in California
how her grandma took her and her siblings in
all the empty bottle pills in the bin
rotten milk on the counter
she felt like she was going to rot away with it
she spoke of living with ghosts
guess it isn't always fun living on the coast
dropping acid and crushing pills
she didn't care if it kills
then there was Jane
from Las Vegas
she told us stories about being high on meth
she wanted the drug to bring her death
she slept in the dirt and hallucinated cops
and airplanes flying above searching
for her, no one was looking not even her pops
two black men told her they'd get her high
if she would just go to their apartment with them
you see Jane was a gem
the only one who didn't see it was her
once she was too high to be able to move
or speak, the mens intentions weren't pure
they tore into her heart
as she cried silent tears
she wishes she could just restart
just wishing to be free of the drug
and these men forcing themselves into her
then there was Chloe
her brother tied up her and her mom in a closet
Chloe thought of not being able to get high
that thought made her want to vomit
he had found her bubbler
we stood around a fire
and burned the papers that held our worst memories
Jane doesn't throw her paper in
so I give her hand a squeeze
sometimes we think we deserve all the worst moments
but fourteen year old Jane did not
fifteen year old xollie did not
Love’s spring bud falls as an autumn leaf,
Sinking into the murky soil that is life,
Its remnants left rotting, to be soaked in, nourishing a new love,
Why can’t the sun shine through this haze of mediocrity,
Where have all those beautiful weeds gone.
If my soul doesn’t freeze, maybe this one will flourish,
In the dark of night she danced in my room
Running rampant like a weary changeling.
Continuing replacing, hastening
Till she has taken all she can consume.
I can no longer see the bright blue moon,
Because my eyes are blurred from her raging.
In the calm though I see her cradling
But her message rings sharp; lingers and looms
I can no longer feel much anymore,
but the hunger she left inside of me
A, need, more want, materials will feed
My corpse brings flies, walks round with open sores.
All morals about me are forced to flee.
She ruined my life, a woman named Greed.
Flowers, they rot
Flowers wilt, decay,
Smell and look pretty
For bees to shit on them.
Look at the banana flower,
'Tis neither presentable nor sweet
'Tis dull and dead
Yet, it is fertilized.
Provides bananas to eat
Fills a hungry gut
Fulfills a social purpose
What does a pretty flower do?
Sit on its branch
Like a whore, trying;
Desperately, to attract customers
To blow out their steam!
And they say "Flowers are beautiful!"
No, flowers are uncouth bitches,
All they do is,
Die and ROT.
Don't make me laugh
sack of meat-/rotting
in the city's
sun... don't claim you
by a boy who never
because it's so easy to
As I fall to pieces at your feet
My pores rotting
A stench so foul
Can you feel my heart
Reach now, Keep it
As I fall away
Can you feel my broken
My bones won't heal
My heart won't mend
All is a puzzle
Can you smell the rotting
My flesh at your feet
If looks could kill, yours did
Can you hear the silence
I scream without sound
I don't know what to do
I tear at my throat, trying to tell you what's inside
As tears fall
A lake deep enough to swim
My rotting body falls
Through the dark abyss
Can you feel my heart
Can we journey through the land far apart
I'm begging on my knees
Can we heal what's falling to pieces
“Love is like a reckless twin; I’m giving in.”
Scandipop on the radio,
The scent of marijuana hanging heavy in the air;
The fruits of my love lie wasted,
Overripe and burdensome,
And I drink deeply from the sweet pools of wine
That gather where the fruits were bruised,
Either by their lesser fall,
Or their greater failure,
Having been inspected by most,
And rejected by all.