through the turbulent toss of a coin,
time drew its arrow back like a metro bus slowing to accept sparse, fresh picked passengers.
love, mind, and my soul swim together in a psychedelic pool of
the drowned sirens of old.
When night is cold, cold like the ship brimming through ice
ice Atlantic Ocean water
Eyes heavy, warmth of sleep, drifting through dreamscapes
she comes to me and runs her salt licked fingers through my hair.
And it doesn't hurt when she bites - well,
or maybe I succumb to it like all things
but when she pulls me down into the water, it all
becomes oh so clear.
I'm here to experience, like you
and for now, I suppose that really can be all there is to it.
This morning, I woke up in the bath
Hydrated, aware, no usual withdrawal
But I can't explain all this water on my floor and walls

turn of tides, torn to pieces, I pushed you away
the pull to you - unforgettable, magnetizing, ever present
How am I supposed to dream of looking you in the eyes
for this long?

simple words, simple fall of leaves, the seasons change as they do
you grow older, wiser and fonder.
I wish the stars would tell you, my heart still aches for you every day

the snow is so white bone cold where I am.
Will I ever grow out of you?

so long, Erica - my funny nick name for you
I've been numbing this feeling of loss
of you
with whatever I can - yet you're still there every ******* time

polarizing. green, mossy pools in the forest kind of ojos are what you have.
it scares me what I'd sacrifice
to feel your palms on my stomach
if I lock eyes with you ever again, I swear to every God on this Earth that you will be mine
again, if you will
have
me.

more seeking and sinking,
more drugs and binge drinking
it's in a sweat, clawing search to find a pretty pretense.
I simply cannot evade getting lost in the mere cadence
of one with such pretty eyes.

Because we know it'll hurt - I face and bind my fate
I put my soul on show so you can freely desecrate
Because, who knows how long we have to keep going
the rapture is buzzing, ringing, and bringing
such a light white hazey dream filled clinging
to all the ways I've know to destroy and start again
to touch your soul and truly know you, to be kin
would satisfy such a deeper part.
But if anyone knows anything, it's that old habits die hard

Suffocating bursts of wind envelop me,
Like honey catching dove wings
Soft pulsing butter-fly flutter of my chest
bloomed into mute silence of love and loss of words,
and breath -

clamoring up a staircase of glass and spit,
I pondered all the contrived ways which love hurt me.
wading through the solemn sharp,
I sung a song of myself and drifted down the river of
you
My skirt plumed, drinking you all up, black sludge skipped the edges
you pulled me down, under, a pop of deflating lungs
And then - your cold dark infinite.

the only time I’d desire another infinite -
when
the walls begun humming, then whispering haunting damnations,
tethering me to this one..  
The graveyard dirt is bitter, it stings hot nips at my skin.
The suffering of love, I equivocate evasive ramblings with scar-munched knees as my lungs fill with something other than
you.

An act of defiance, a resilient tribute to autonomy.
something dredged me from the ground - thick earthy sweat smell of moss and mineral tying me to this neutral plane between life
and death.
I want to hurt for art, for Ophelia.
for a greater cause, for moments that remind me of humility
even for the force of beauty

I cannot hurt for you, for it is not worth it to me

how do I even put words to this?
Take the concepts, stitch them out of the sand into fateful constellations
I just want to touch someone, I'm so sick of words.

I remember your eyes the most.
It's so cliche. The eyes being the window to the soul,
eyes showing what you try to hide,
eyes are
what often give people away when they lie
you technically never lied to me.

but it almost makes me even more heart wrenchingly distressed when I come to the realization that
that was because you never made me any deep promises to begin with.
which, would have been sweeter
I already know, the pain more bitter, in the end,
But I think that I would hurt
for you.

I know I would
, because I've done it before.
and you know it too, Because we both were...into it.
I remember sitting in the Driver's seat kissing you, feeling so good to enjoy kissing someone again, feeling their hair, the feeling of lips to lips, lips to your neck and
nipping
around the collar bones

you looked at me like I was real.
and by that, I mean when we made
and
held eye contact,
I simply adored the assertiveness
I loved looking at
you.

sometimes,
in the grey mattered
shredded dawn
when the sky is wrecking havoc on these poor, addicted, hungry, castaway *******
it will sound crazy.

It really
will
I swear it to you

But I wonder if because I was so perpetually infatuated with your
entire
thing

maybe we somehow share telepathic thoughts,
like twins,
and you can tell that I'm thinking about you.

It's raining.

I'm not poor,
I plead the fifth as far as addicted goes
hungry?
this is a poem, I guess I'm hungry for.... the thrill of being attracted and enthralled with another human soul?
wow.

Anyway....
It's raining.
I wish you'd text me. I wish I'd hear from you. I wish things were,
different.

You touched a part of me that I don't think I can ever scrub off.
and what I'm hungry for, is more of that.
And I know you'd know what I mean.

God.
I'm so helpless.

I want to fall on the bed with him
feverishly, colliding
take this part of me that hurts, please, please
make me able to trust that it is possible to hurt
in a good way
in a way that makes you feel alive

for too long I've felt locked out of myself
trying to swim to the top of the suffocate but getting my shoes stuck on a rock underwater
kicking and thrashing like a flower blooming under time lapse
but. do you see? do you see?
I can't bloom without the sun
you cannot give me the sun