this song reminds me
of blasting it from small speakers,
smoking cigarettes and flicking the ashes into pristine snow,
making it soft,
dripping,
grey.

dancing in the sunlight filtering through the trees,
prisms of light touching me,
caressing my body,
moving my hips to the beat of it,
a short haired girl, and a brown haired boy rolling they're eyes
at my addiction to it.  

"we've places to go
we've people to see"

it reminds me of running down roads
vacant of any other people
flinging loud voices from high rooms,
floral.

it reminds me of a long haired girl,
dipping our naked bodies into
bathwater,
shower dripping down.

it reminds me
of the sunset,
how the world for a few moments
was in eternal dusk,
weary, tarnished clouds
croaking their tired gears,
coughing violently from tainted lungs.

i miss bare-feet on roads,
i miss sharing spirits on the
small parts of sidewalks;
hidden.

drowning in
lilac perfume,
playing hide and seek with our mothers,

we can hide

but we'll always be found.

you delve deep into the naked sunset,
only to emerge with the small
dying embers
of the sun
in the weak scarlet of your
palms.

i don't like nice poetry.
i don't like fancy words,
or tranquil thoughts,
i don't like comfortable or smooth.

i like
R A W

i like poetry that rips you apart from the inside out
shreds your skin,
takes your oxygen and forms it into something else
unbreathable.

i like poetry that leaves you staring,
with watering eyes like whole oceans somehow slipped,
unlocked the bolted door to your retinas late at night
and slept cold, salty and drunk on your bed without an invitation.

somehow the love you made,
sweat staining the soft, greasy thin sheets
meant nothing.
and now the oceans lying beside you,
inside you
salt making you cringe, gag in the safe dark cover of night,
strikes you as positively
irritating;
their breath of tides,
growing small and large with every
step closer they take towards shore.

so you ****** your hands in the swift
raging waters of their
body.
you try to find its warped, used heart,
like a crumpled, empty cigarette package
discarded and wet after a war waging rain;
rippled and streaming in the
transparency of its quaking body.

you seek to rip it out,
and tiptoe to the open window,
vacantly staring at you from across the room,
every inhale it takes
letting more warm, humid air like
dead fishes breath
into the scalding room.

you wish to throw that pulsing,
helpless heart out into the night
listen for a couple of moments
and hear it splatter on the concrete below
the ajar window,
sure that cold,
wet
remains of the ocean floor would be scattered on
the sidewalk in the morning.

but you cant seem to successfully rip it out,
the tendons holding onto the ribs
like wild veins,
stubborn and clingy.
you pull and pull,
aching to tear it from
the body,
but the water around it is too cold so you
jump out of the
waves and weeds of under the sea,
and lie on your back listening to its breath
breathing still in deep sleep,
angry that the tearing on its
heart
didn't make it stir one bit;
just made your hands burning
ice and numb
purple in the dark.

so you satisfy yourself by gently
pressing your lips to its
throat,
sinking your teeth deep below its
vital veins,
stopping the raging rivers in its
soft neck,
pulsating with currents,
glowing with a sliver of silver moonlight passing
through it like a wrenching scar.

you crunch down violently
on its delicate
lifeless passageways
transporting fresh water
to salted sour oceans,
crispy like stringy celery
breaking uneasily in the warm cavern of
your mouth.

then you lie down, fulfilled.
the lack of its vessels
stopping the tide of its breath violently and suddenly,
carotid arteries,
jugular veins
and muscles
spread out,
spurting from its throat,
vast like twisted wings.

you ash your cigarette on the draining
wetness of its tongue,
throw the filter down its decapitated throat
and sit on the white, crusting balcony,
waiting for the rusting sun to rise,
picking sand out from your teeth.

this night was different;
there were more moments spent looking back then forward,
panic always pulsating in the crook of our throat
like some giant, out of breath beast
waiting in the hollow sweat, and gnarled tree branches
reflecting black against the slightly purple sky.

it was too quiet to mask our
echoing footsteps;
boot on pavement
no rain to soften the blow.

we made it in thirty minutes to the gas station,
where we unzipped our jackets
and let the lace show out of our drooping shirts
blinking like a warning sign
to the drugged up cashier,
words mumbling over his body,
strings mixed up.

men entered and i saw that look
that i always see
in men who look at me;
its hungry, a type of lusting mouth with no
feeling,
**** trusted more than his heart.

the kind of look that says,
“i want you feeling my biceps in the back of
my truck,
and i want to feel your tightness all over me,”
the only problem is i play along,
pretending to be seductive
and then leaving with an agonizingly frozen stare, and
a quickened pace
just to show them who's actually in control.

a pack of Newports exchanged over the counter,
another lighter;
this time with a green and red flower on it;
dahlias of the night.
exoskeletons of black jackets and tights
like some shadow riding vagabonds,
inside guts made out of
swallowed cigarette smoke
and bravery.

we smoked and walked,
watching as headlights flickered toward our slim frames,
and men leaned out from trucks
with salivating mouths like dogs,
inviting us to their burning desire
in the cold, shrinking night.

under the layer of skin
that tells the girl beside me that it would be stupid
to heed to their invitations,
i admit to myself
that all i want is for a stranger to wrap around me
and kiss my smoke stained lips
with a different fury,
so i can whisper a fake name in the depths of their ears,
and show them that i will kiss
better than all the women that have
wrapped themselves in
their limp bedsheets,
and leave them wanting more as i disappear into the night,
leaving nothing but a longing burn
on the tips of their tongues.

but i don't give into my fierce desires,
and we simply turn around,
smoke five more cigarettes,
and climb up the fence
to **** her hand,
and run across the raging freeway
like the Klamath itself.

i want to learn french,
but i suppose i've learned enough because
cigarette
is a french word isn't it?

even the strongest walls break down if beaten on enough,
starting out smooth and sturdy,
struck by forces of nature,
the barrier trembles and cracks.
the peak of the earthquake will bring it to the ground.
a destructed structure
no longer guards against any impact.
beaten barricade lying in ruins,
askew upon the earth,
scattered failure to contain passion.
exhaling a sigh of relief,
prisoners intertwine with by-passers,
leaving everyone breathless.
they must be captured and chained.
attempting to control these new sensations
only brings about the wonder
of unexplored phenomena.
in the location of defeat a door is erected.
a tribute to the knowledge of euphoria,
it remains unopened waiting
for lovers
to render it unhinged once again.

so you think you had it hard?

when you were five years old,
you were given hasbro toys,
when i was five,
I learned how to fold,
and help mom do the laundry,
and tuck my little brother and sister in ,

when you were seven?
you were spoiled beyond your wildest dreams,
when i was seven,
I learned to help make lunches,
and stick up for my little sister at school

when you were ten?
you had the best birthday party,
when i was ten,
I helped mom save up for my sisters birthday present,
that year she wanted a doll house,
and that year she got it, finally

When you were 12,
you went to your first sleepover,
when I was 12,
my daddy lost his job,


When you were 16?
You got your first car,
I bet that was the best part,
when i was 16,
I helped my parents pay the bills,
with my first job,
Are we sitll equals?

the difference between you and me?
some people have to grow up faster than others,
some get to be free, some have a responsibility.

You look better
When you're smiling
Doors of ivory hide unease

Your smile looks better
When your spiraling
Down down chutes of self appease

And I look better
When you're defiling
All the things that live to please.