My empty hands had grown sticky
And will glue themselves to anyone
The smallest of a detachment
Feels like a chainsaw through my hand
Today I dug
I went where I didn't need to be
I found a boy where nobody was
But he remains
Untouchable
Unspeakable
Sticky fingers wrap around what i had already lost
You thought I was done
I thought I was done
But I looked for you
I looked and you weren't there
You never were
You never could be
In that week
I don't remember much
But you made me feel like there was a sky above my head
You made me feel okay
But i was in a room
I was by myself
You knew that
You told me I could leave
You told me no matter how quickly
I could leave
You lied to me
You ******* lied
And here I am now
With sticky fingers

Life is like a piece of gum
You unwrap a new piece,
Like a fresh start
You start chewing that piece,
Learning how to live

You can blow it,
Let it expand and expand
Until sometimes
It explodes in your face

It might be hard
To clean it off
Sticking everywhere
Making problems
It might take a while
But as you learn
You’ll get better
Through trials
Until the whole piece
Is back in your mouth

Sometimes the gum will get bland
You’ll get bored and sick
You’ll want something new
Something exciting
Something different

So you’ll spit out your gum
Wrap it in a wrapper
And toss it in the garbage
Where it will stay
So you don’t have to remember
Unless you want to

Then you’ll buy a new
And exciting pack of gum
An exciting flavor!
Maybe cinnamon, maybe fruit
Maybe even a mystery pack

Then you’ll start over
A new chapter
Filled with new tastes
And experiences
Like a fresh piece of gum

Tricky and sticky
hard to get out of
but easy to get ****** in

how do I tell the difference
are you love?

you are empty promises
you are the relationship with no labels
you are the late night getaways
the text messages I hide away

you are the heartbreak
you are what makes my knees shake
you make me tuck my morals away

as I dance among your lips
I feel the grip on my hip
my wrist held down tight
I blossom into the queen
of the night

Can't you see my body tremble?
Finding pleasure there
Finding love there
And my body
My heart remembers..
As I wait thirsty

Hungry for the next time
hungry for you

This is not love,
this is not what its like
this is not what I longed for every night
it's a trick but it feels right


It's a trick, right?

I have sticky skin
it's too humid outside and
looking through the bathroom mirror
into myself I think my
veins are sticky too
and maybe the blood in them
is too
I'm not sure
does moving blood make
your heart rate faster

all you people
u r losing it mummies frick the mummies
spinning in circles in Beatles boots
     C     I
S            R
E      L    C
of throbbing pulses
brand new birthmarks on
necks of people
why so empty
vacillating back and forth like miniature
seconds seconds of time
time like
breath marks in a piece of music
BREATHE beFore YoU dIe and it is over
the 'it' has yet to find a definition
this is a rhetorical question
why did you leave?

for lacy clothes under cotton
pants bought somewhere on the beach
in MuMbAi covering
a gentle sloping navel
u ppl
feeling nothing
like a rubber band snapped
on a leg covered in jeans
snapping a rubber band against my wrist
until it is red

feeling things
lips are stained with coffee
and my teeth taste sour
of caffeine
this is the song of the
Lost oNe

my arteries burn less now and
breathing without
laying backwards on the carpet
comes easily
lOsT OnE hasn't changed
but I
have

i stick to the walls and people around me
like they are covered in glue and i am a fly
i spin out of control, hoping to grasp on to something real
and maybe one day i'll be washed of my sins
and be with my thoughts and stick to myself

rain beats dynamic rhythm
ever changing syncopations
speaking to underwater sensibilities
feeding dreams of nymphs and pots and pans,
mushroom damp truants

records and players
lent out to the Master Librarian
hermit in her books and closets
dust on her shelves
thick as thieves
sticky as raindrops

Essence, raw resins
Yellow, brown sticky substance
A scent too earthy

Oranges you make my hands sticky.

You make my knife sticky.

my clothes, my mouth, everything sticky.

i wonder if it is worth it just to be healthy.

i wonder if it is worth it to eat the tasty insides.

i wonder about the worth in anything when i eat you oh orange you.

You remind me of outcome - effort = worth and how i hate that about you.

Don't make me think, don't make me sad and angsty.

For God's sake your supposed to just be a fruit.