#kleptomania
The ones with blurred faces
Knocked down my door last night
And tugged at my limbs with such desperation
- A rigorous exercise.
Their hands, rattling in a sharp neon glow
Stole away many things as they held me down
And shone the bright lights into my eyes,
Turning my pupils into hollowed colour:
Trust.
Potential.
Innocence.
Friendship.
All gone.
All taken.
All dead.
During the break-in.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 2:51 AM UTC
I made this skirt from
Pierre Cardin's spring collection
Where a thief stole a pound, and I paid a nickle.
I made this shirt from
A pretty curtain
That I ripped out of a groovy bungalow
I made this bracelet from
Beads drifting down river Arakawa
A child's beads, probably thrown in a tantrum.
I made this pendant from
A glass marble from a goldfish bowl
In the small classroom of an elementary school
I found my socks in a dumpster.
I found my shoes in a runaway train.
I found my coat on the shoulders of a model.
And so I plead not guilty.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 2:01 AM UTC
She won't let a thing pass her by,
Without wanting to have a touch.
To save herself she has to lie.
Daily she has a new catch,
Getting from others without asking,
More like trouble seeking.
But it seems her hands are out of control,
Her conscience no longer plays its role,
She's a slave to unsatisfaction,
She wants to have it all even without need.
Diagnosed but its no disease.
Her heart can be fixed and finally be at ease.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC
I want to steal your kisses,
And your time,
And your love.
I want to breathe in your air,
And your feelings,
And bits of your soul.
I want to inhale your history,
And your sadness,
And your happy.
I want to wrap my arms around your shoulders,
And your heavy heart,
And your splintered spine.
I want to take your heartbreak,
And your worry,
And your tears.
I want to wipe away your jutted lip,
And furrowed brow,
And damp cheeks.
I want to steal every single part of you,
And only give back,
The good stuff.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Why?
Why did I do it?
Why did I start?
Why didn't I use my better judgement?
Oh I'll regret this
Every time that's what I say
"You'll regret that"
I say as I continue
Why don't I listen?
Oh my own selfish intentions and fear of getting caught
I can't walk down the same roads and streets because I'm afraid it'll happen again
I'm sorry for what I've done
But I just can't help myself
Stupid impulses and spontaneous action leads me to do the despicable
my arrogant "woe is me" attitude
I can't see what's wrong until its too late
And why?
Why did I do it?
I ask
As it happens again
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC