Strawberry sun
hot on swaying hips

a shimmer of skin,
sultry beacon of temptation.

Days smear in sweat
and grass stains.

Twilight carries dusty toes
a few steps further.

Legs dangling, lonely
top of rusted tower,

Moon whispering
“come and kiss me”.

Languid laughter lilts
lining ancient constellations

Space(s) [is] filled
By our separation.

Cicadas croon,
Biding elusive slumber,

dawn’s yellow tendrils grasp eyelashes,
rays morph into rivers of light.

Time, the illusion of a tether;
A notion of perpetual motion

Adrift an absent-minded sea,
Hazy, evasive sleep

Our ropes will fray
in wisps and waves of heat.

C.e.M.
31082016

Scribble the words; don't be afraid of them they bring emotion that is begging to be felt, just as you are begging for his touch. Do not show up when you know being there will only make you cry. But do not be afraid to feel. That's why life is so beautiful: everything deserves to be felt. That's how life goes. When you are awake at 3am screaming in your room, burning the candles that you got from the festival, listening to the saddest song your heart has ever felt, do not be afraid. This is how it's supposed to be and when the thought that everything will be okay flashes across your mind like an island in the middle of the vast oceans, swim to it. It is not a mirage, it is not your imagination playing tricks again, it is not the drugs that you never took,. It's as real as the pain in your stomach. Swim to it and do not stop even when it seems you are getting no closer, darling, you are almost there. Don't lose sight. Do not remember the way he said your name or the way his words held you on the surface of yourself. You were made To go deep. Drown in yourself. Don't be afraid of that, because even when you drown, you are saved. He is calling you, He is guiding you young child. Do you not remember He who placed that island just far enough to make you appreciate the journey when you arrive on that shore completely exhausted but just in time to see the most breathtaking sunset your human eyes have ever seen? **** it open those eyes. They are there for a reason! I said, do not be afraid! For why are you afraid of living if you are not terrified of dying? You are on the tight path, keep going. Breathe. Don't be scared. He is holding you. He is holding your hand. Breathe. Listen to the voice saying "it will be okay" because in two days, it will not matter how swollen your eyes were, they still took my breath away in the moonlight. So perfect, standing there listening to yourself for the first time, hearing the words "I love my life" escape from your lips. Could it be? The first time? Even if you are unsure, you mean it because there is nothing perfect about someone that feels absolutely nothing and my God, you are perfect and I know you feel so much more than words could ever say. So, be in love with all of the emotions, the feelings, the heat of the anger, but yet the warmth of your breath as you shout "come back to me, I'm drowning in the middle of the street, staring at the moon so bright. Why can't you be there? Don't worry, don't fear. His eyes are on you and you should stop swimming up stream, lie on your back, watch the galaxies revolve around you in that moment. Time is nonexistent. It's made up. It's a figment of your imagination. Do not watch it tick away. Watch the stars, breathe, do not fear drowning... You know how to swim.

Spiraling drastically in a kamikaze daydream,
Beatles crawling up my neck,
The needle crawling across a Beatles record,
They were your favorite,
For the record, I've never felt so hollow

I just need to let it go,
I just need to let it snow,
******* white, ghostly shadow,
Trust me, you'd never want to know,

Nothing without a struggle,
Everything with a broken backbone,
Hearing your voice for the first time in months was more comforting than anything,
You were so powerful, you could do anything

Good evening,
Miss Misery,
I've come knocking on your door again,
You were and always will be the only thing most comforting,

Like a broken record,
I miss you,
I miss you,
I miss you,

Cracks and creases hold no scars,
Foggy windows on cold winter nights hold no bars,
But what do I know?
All I am is chasing cars

You never ran me over,
You went right through me

You can't **** what's already dead,
In other words,
We didn't lasted long

I used to keep a suicide note in my wallet in case I ever found a building with a view beautiful enough to be my last.
It was a hastily written apology for never being who everyone thought I could be.
It between the faded blue lines, gentle wishes kissed the page, hoping someday someone would see them and they would come true. The middle paragraph carved a hollow spot in my chest as I wrote it.

"My friends. I am sorry. I know you'll never really understand. I hope that you all can forgive me for meeting you in the first place. I love you and I'm sorry I can never truly express it, I know I have class but it feels okay that I can finally be free of them, and you can be free of me."

The words were smudged with bits of alcohol that had dripped from the bottles mouth when I pulled it from mine.
God how I couldn't wait for it all to end.

Then, I met you. I wrote poem after poem hoping youd get the hint. You were my building, my end. Your eyes, the final sky id see, your smile, my last sunset.

I took one of the peoms from my drawer, the first line reads,
       "Her eyes, the forest. The greenest life that could ever grow."

I can't do this anymore
live with the gore
of my body being torn
open,
like its the norm
my eyes are burning
my stomach is churning
I've given myself away
to everyone, every day
look inside
there's nothing to hide
in fact, there's nothing at all
no I didn't fall
you pushed me
I clung tightly
here I go, without a show
tumbling softly with no flow

I wish I could love you
the way that you loved me
not at all, and selfishly

I wish I could walk with my head held high
I wouldn't miss a beat or be bothered by a stranger's sigh

but instead here I am, crawling toward anything giving off a sign of discomfort

I want to put my hands on anything broken
I want to fix their smile
my heart aches for those around me

you see, we are very different
I love endlessly and completely
your love is fleeting and only ever just the beginning

Maybe some nights it's best not to sleep
Maybe this is one of those nights
Maybe I'm just too sentimental for the 21st century world
With its fleeting associations
And all the heads banging against the walls
Making the walls speak with outlines of faces who are too **** tired or too **** sad or in a pain that won't melt away
Some mornings I wake up and I want to smash windows to let in a little air
Some mornings I wake up and can't stand to look humanity in the eye
It's best not to remember those days if you know what's good for you
I've seen too many dead birds to deal with this ****
I have seen too many tears to acknowledge that love songs do any good

Maybe it's time to stop being a passenger here
Maybe it's time for me to get behind the wheel
Maybe we are already the captains
Maybe the ship isn't sinking yet
Promise me if this ship goes down you won't go with it
Promise me that before I die I will get onstage to sing again
They want to make me a saint
And place rosaries around my neck and flowers on my head
Meanwhile they are fixing to be martyrs
But the only difference between saints and martyrs
Is that saints perform miracles after they die
And martyrs inspire others to perform the same miracles
I still struggle to know which of the two are more holy

Tonight I saw your last concert
It's been a long time running
And it was well worth the wait

I was once convinced
Everything would
work itself out.

Every problem had a solution
Every fixation, an axis
Every point? purposeful.

Certainly time was an equation.
Solving the question of final age
was merely the addition of years
and the subtraction of moments
our vices swallowed.

Everything was orderly.
Numbers in a row.
Empty boxes, waiting to be checked.

DNA strands coiled ceremoniously
into my exact composure
worried about me so I wouldn't have to.

Days flaking off like dandruff,
unsightly flecks of fragility,
floating toward irreversible fate.


I would live until I wouldn’t.

I would teeter
        ...skid
                   ....careen
through hours, anxiously awaiting
never taking a breath to rest and reflect.


Death was algebra.
I was subtracted from morality,
added it back as fatality.

Evening out- solving for X,
My many quaking days
having lost their grip.
            ~
Life is not math.
Life is trash recycled into sporadic moments that won't last.

Simplicity was never synonymous
To consciousness.
Sentient beings will always suffer.

Words will never suffice
When the feelings are out of place.
Attempts at descriptive narrative
only feel like a forced hand,
a poor play.

My slippery fingers are arthritic,
clutching at the vapors
of moments before mistakes.

I've never kept anything I loved.
I have ****** out of hate
more than I have out of lust.

I was always what I wanted to be
never was what I needed to be
And when desire ran dry
I always settled in the dust of desolate decisions.

The bell curve never helped with my grades
And this learning curve can’t help me find my place.


C.e.M. Aug. 11, 2016

Reassigning bits of me
to true consciousness-
A dream within a dream
A twisting landscape
Of implicated creations that morph
With the induction of elation and
The interpretation of intrepid behavior.

I see skin sparking,
Natural electricity, lightning
Blue cable veins bleed
There is no oxygen here
No need to seal the wound
No space to dissipate into.

The ceiling pushes up from under us
The floor spins in cultivated madness
The sky swallows me whole
And i sink into the sea,
Swollen with seductive intention
Clinging to fragments of reality-
They have no home in this realm.

At the helm of curiosity
Drifting through vagrancy
away from complacency.
spindling through fever dreams-
placid plastic landscapes.
I know not what I create,
Yet again and again
I meet my fate
within the metamorphosis
of melting clay and
The soft whir of the interstate
that stirs beneath me.

I know the soft rustling
of a rusting heart within me
Shifts the focus from fantasy
But nomadic irrelevance
has always been a decadency
Lest I leave too soon
and forget its places within me.




C.e.M. 8-9-16