She, betrayed, in histrionic flow,
Heart akimbo, flailing at the sky,
Fired with voyeuristic need-to-know,
Rages at the outing of a lie.

He, defensive, understanding, sure,
Accommodates the outburst in his stride.
Lassoes her with a practiced sinecure;
Instinctive gesture, expertly applied.

She, bewildered, aimless and morose –
(He, distracted by the barmaid’s hips) –
Casts aside the guilt-effacing rose;
Repealed devotion scrawled upon her lips.

Afterwords, I stuff
myself back
within myself--

pleated coils bending
like knees,
with ease,
like they've been on
tippy toes too long--

A too flexible and
overly sensitive
jack in a box:

One whose chest gets too
excited at the turn
of a handlefull of gears
until the lid
pops off

I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, I should leave, I'm not good, why do you like me, she'd parrot again and again, coming and going and coming and going and I will love this love forever and I don't want to lose you and soul mates and we're going to be okay and we're safe to each other and sorry, sorry, sorry and you should abandon me and coming and going and stop calling yourself honest, and are you sure you have bpd, and coming and going and one day there are no more sorrys and coming and going and I can't take this and coming and eventually

going.

"Here are some snippets and poetry I wrote" my ex says in an email some days after I've drunkenly reinitiated contact with them after a year of nothing and the "snippets" go back and back and back, 2015, 2014, 2013, and we both confess to having read each other's blog and they will end up refollowing me on every blog they have which is all well and good but I am still scared and wondering why I seem to always go where I don't belong, why I am always trying to open some Pandora's box and they have said they never get over anyone, they have called me their muse and I want to tell them that I am not their muse, I am only myself, my best friend tells me to be distant with them after I tell her about the drama with them that I managed to handle and I had started writing a poem to them but now I think I'll just close the unsaved document, I only sent them one poem but I don't want to send any more, it would only encourage them, maybe encourage me and that's all I ever do - encourage people who end up scaring and hurting me, but hey at least I get content from all of it.

"I miss you" ze tells me, ze sends me hearts and initiates contact and likes every stupid thing I ever post on Facebook, and when we're around each other everything is fine, and my best friend tells me ze would date me if I let hir but I can't do it, I can't casually date, not a white person and not now, not after all I've dealt with, I think I just want to be alone forever now, and ze is so nice to me but I just can't reciprocate when we are not in the same room, and I don't believe hir is really autistic or bpd and I never know why, and ze is the best of all of hir anarqueer friends but there is something so off about all of them and they are good entertainment from afar but these are the kinds of people I would have been so jealous of when I was still at smith and always hurting from my perpetual anonymity among the hipsters I realized I would never be a part of, and I have accepted that I will always be invisible among white hipsterqueers but sometimes it still hurts, "community" is ******* and I don't believe it could ever exist for me, but that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes want it desperately.

"Let's go to Tuesgays," my best friend announced last night, and I roused myself up because I knew she wanted to go and wouldn't go without me, she told me as much when we were walking in the dark trying to find the club, and I gathered up all the bits of naivety and hope and the maybe it will be okay amidst all the fear and fatigue and I assembled the bits into a shoddy structure that blew away an hour later and I'm sure I ruined the night but she didn't tell me, and she bought me pizza but the pizza was too much and I don't want to perform at an open mic and I don't want to spend money and I don't want to drink but I do anyway and I don't know why I do all these things I don't like doing, building all these unstable structures that just fall down in the end, and I don't know what's wrong, it's not her fault, I just wish I were dead.

"So fill me in on these last five years. How's life?" I didn't respond to the old high school friend who I wasn't even particularly close with them and once I thought it would be cool to reconnect with friends in high school but every time they ever try to contact me now all I think is "go away, go away, go away," and it's more intense with men, he texts me this morning, days after I delete the text, says, "You were the first person that ever wrote on my wall on facebook, remember? I never forgot that," as if that's supposed to make me feel something, what I want to say is "hi I'm gay and crazy and not the person who wrote on your wall in 2007 and I don't know what the point is in contacting me," but I will hold my tongue because I can't say these things, I will continue to not reply, just like I don't reply to the old men I meet who send me emails or add me on Facebook because maybe I am their only friend and it's not their fault, it's mine for talking, mine for trusting, for giving away my email and poetry so willingly, always forgetting that slightly sick feeling I get afterwords, that's what being uncomfortable is, that feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong, and you're stuck and it's too late to go back but something is wrong and you can't put your finger on what is wrong, what is wrong, what is wrong with you, why can't you be nicer to the people around you, why are you writing this at all, stop feeling this anxious, stop feeling bad for no reason, stop feeling

uncomfortable.

I'm sure he'd approve,
but there is something endearing
about reading Bukowski on the toilet.
You even get to wash your hands afterwords.

broken never felt so good
standing so straight made me ache
all the time

crumpled loosely in piles
in this beautiful mess you've made me
feeling sublime

all that buildup of anxiety
its like getting on a plane
flying higher and higher
not knowing for sure if your chute is going to work
and then panicking
as every fiber of your being
SCREAMS NO

and out you go


you hold your breath and tumble for a moment
then dare to open your eyes

Realizing

it doesn't matter if the chute doesn't open
because right now

your flying

(8:20 P.M.)
I'm out my back door
and into the cities
I've got my hat, phone, wallet,
lighter and keys.
It's a short little walk,
the gas stations not far.
I see where they parked,
I enter the car.

(8:30 P.M.)
Kelsey grabs my hand
and looks me in the eye,
she ignores the centipedes
she sees,
or at least she tries,
she then calmly explains
she's out-of-bodied
the entire car ride
and how she's been
counting the stars
even though its not quite night.
She says we're swimming
through the mountains
and climbing up the seas
but from where I'm sitting
we're still in the back seat.
I ask, "Hey, what's she on?"
"I think LSD.
But don't worry, it's cool,
she's dating the guy
throwing this thing."

(8:40 P.M.)
It's a twenty minute ride,
crammed into the Taurus,
but Ashley's in the front,
getting shots poured out for us.
"To a good night!"
We laugh and proclaim,
we down the first drinks
and start the pre-game.
Hennepin then Franklin
then Grand avenue.
We've already got a buzz
now were smokin buds, too.

(9:05 P.M.)
We pull up
just as the suns going down
and as the moon peeks her face
out from under the clouds.
There's already some kid
face down in the grass
some brilliant soul's pulled his pants down
and sharpied his ***.
I guess he shouldn't have passed out
with his shoes still on;
hopefully nobody patrolling
sees him lying in the lawn.

(9:06 P.M.)
The second thing we notice
are the angels on the porch
They've already bent their halos
and lost their wings, of course.
The beautiful brunette
with half her head shaved
turns to welcome us
with a big friendly wave.
With a smile on her face she says,
"Hi! I'm Mel!
Welcome to our party;
welcome to Hell!"
"Where should we put our drinks?"
"Just leave em in your car!
We've got three kegs
and our very own bar!"
We're escorted inside,
in front of at least a hundred people,
and brought to the roof
with a sign that reads Steeple.

(9:20 P.M.)
Jon's tipping a bottle,
just waiting for Kelsey.
He asks her right away,
"Babe, will you marry me?"
She's too far gone
to know what to say,
so he wraps her in a hug
that makes everything okay.
It's clearly a cute joke,
just some little spiel,
but Kels is so high
she thinks that it's real.

(10:30 P.M.)
We all decide its best
if we leave those newly wed
because, to be frank,
there was a lot of PDA going on in their bed.
Mel starts to lead us
down the winding stairs,
by now the broken halo
escaped from her hair.
She said seeing Kels and Jon
made her feel lonely
so she needs another drink
and wants to get to know me.

(11:45 P.M.)
As it turns out
she's a good partner for pong;
but now she wants to sneak off,
to go rip up her ****.
So we take a trip down the hall
and slide through her door.
let me preface this part:
I never expect to score.

(11:50 P.M.)
She gives the lighter a spark.

(11:53 P.M.)
We're making out in the dark.

(12:15 A.M.)
The silence is broken,
we hear someone scream.
We look at each other,
"What the Hell could that mean?"

(12:20 A.M.)
We're scared, so we joke
about what it could be.
The most likely reason?
Something scared the heavens out of Kelsey.
We say she's probably worried
about alien transplants
and the whole entire time
I'm not wearing my pants.

(12:21 A.M.)
"The cops are here!"
I jumped and ran from her bed.
I don't think I'll see those red skinny jeans
ever again.
I manage a quick goodbye
and then I'm into the Hall.
I find my friend Ashley
and our sober cab Paul.
"Kelsey's with the cops
and Tom left with Nancy,
our cars down the road,
lets head to the street."

(12:25 A.M.)
As we sneak out the back
we hear the cops speak:
"The first kid we found
had **** drawn on his **** cheeks."

(1:05 A.M.)
After a while
the three of us arrive,
back to my place,
though we started with five.
The drive back was extended,
even if Paul was driving well,
because in my drunken stupor
I made him stop at Taco Bell.
We head through the porch,
My roommate's still up.
He asks if we wanna drink
and then goes to grab cups.

(1:50 P.M.)
After a few rounds of Kings
Paul's on the couch, fast asleep,
and James went downstairs,
It's just me and Ashley.

(2:00 A.M.)
We turn a movie on
and we sit in my bed.
We discuss all the things
going through both of our heads.
For three straight hours
she flirted up some guy
'til his girlfriend walked in
and started to cry.
She called Ashley a *****
who swore she didn't know
while dude stared at the ground
and said, "Sorry, bro."
Ashley had enough,
she hates being called a guy,
so she winded one up
and kissed her fist to his eye.

(3:00 A.M.)
We didn't watch the movie,
we just talked some more,
until we fell asleep
keeping one another warm.
Two old friends,
two trips in different Hells
and the only thing to do afterwords
was to laugh at ourselves.
Two old friends,
who's hunt for love was a blunder,
who consoled their loneliness
by wrapping up in each other.

So in moments of cello
and measures of
rendezvous,
Dvorak concertos &
adagios too...
in moments of breath
when reading the lines,

it's your hands holding
a set of strings,
and afterwards, then
mine

imagine this.
you experience something
with another person
that typically involves
a great deal of
love and commitment.
but, you didnt want to.
this person didn't love you
nor were they commited to you.
this moment
is usually special
and meaningful.
but, you can't even tell me
if it was because
you dont know.
you dont remember.

welcome to my life.
i was the mere age
of fifteen.
i thought i loved him.

afterwords,
i didn't tell anybody.
instead,
i made excuses.
“i remember.”
“i wasn't drunk.”
“i wanted to.”
i spent six long months
suffering,
burying everything,
before i finally decided
it was time to tell my mom.

last month
my mom told me
i had a doctors appointment.
you see,
i have been consistently
losing weight and
i hadn't been sleeping at night.
when my doctor asked if
my mom could come in too,
i instantly knew something was wrong.
my mom looked into my eyes
and told me i needed to be honest.
i had no idea
what she was talking about.
“she was *****,”
my mom blurted.

you see,
after spending
six. *******. months.
alone,
burying everything
that i didn't want to think about,
just to have all that hard work
ripped apart
was heartbreaking.
no,
having someone i
loved and trusted
do something so awful,
so wrong,
that was heartbreaking.
but digging it all back up?
that was torture.

While relaxing in an open field
Carving thoughts out of scenic jumble
I bore witness to a king of sights
And afterwords I lay there humbled.

For the briefest of moments
(Although relative, looking back it possessed no time)
I was not in a mere field anymore
And I was quite sure it wasn't my mind.

The clouds danced and swirled for display
Looping through an ever-blue sky.
And out of that beautiful, blasted way
Arrived something riding a north winds sigh.

It revealed itself, beautiful, splendid!
Towers of marble! Azure cascades!
Mountains tall, Emerald Halls,
Amber forests beside Evergreen glades!

And flying astride the floating island,
Were winged men holding spears of light!
They accompanied it, protecting the jewel,
Truly great protection for the Island of Flight!

Then while passing through a nearby mist,
The island seemed to disappear!
It caught itself in the clouds above
And the next instant the skies were clear.

Our bodies ******* as we become one.
You trace the outline of my spine.
Subtle kisses.
Lost in endless time.
Take the last hit of no regrets.
As your morals run out.
Like the last drop of Jack.
Sweet scent of seduction.
Gentle becomes violent.
Afterwords you lay in that bed.
Nicotine regret fills the room.
Until you finally rest your head.
Accept your beautiful mistake.

where's the meaningful tug
pulling each other from the waist
our palms resting on each other's side
the fast world of businessmen and
mothers, us, standing like a patched heart
saying our goodbyes

where's the moment of silence
the pause, the deep breath, the uncertain
exhale, where's the lip biting, the half smiling,
the word choking, the not knowing

standing like two dandelions in the open field
facing each other, with nothing to say except
for when the wind blows,
we give each other a hundred wishes

where's the promise to never forget each other
where's the clever comeback to hold back the tears

where's that one moment that sums up everything
the birthday card, the christmas present, the one last trip
where's the humbleness in our voice
like we were speaking in goodbye

you disappeared out of my life like a name I forgot
like a word on the top of my head

so sudden, yet so smooth
like tender rain
like a distant anthem

sometimes the significance is not in how it ends
but the parts of you that are left afterwords

sometimes is all the time

You could find someone better, trust me I'm someone who hides their feelings beneath their sweaters I'm a distanced person who spaces out even in the moments that are most important. My anxiety keeps me from saying the things that I want to blurt out so badly but cannot because of the words that others will slap down on me. Trust me I'm not someone to stand beside. Toxicity engulfs me often I'm barely pushing through this sticky path that was created out of hate my anxiety is always entertained do you not understand the pain that these people have caused me to feel!?
Insane.
I always thought I was, because my thoughts often turned from happy to horrific once something bad had been said, well what did you expect?! For me to be perfectly happy afterwords and forgive you as if you had never meant the words that twisted and slurred around in my mind, ******* it's about time you learned your place bullying is not something that can be accepted so easily so stop doing it for ***** sake I cannot begin to describe the way I hated myself for so long! I'm damaged even now from back then and it's been so long! I know you don't give not one single ****. It's depressing really, how empty I had and have felt because of you..
Let me try to define this kind of pain for you since I know you'd never be able to handle the things that went through my mind after what you had caused me to feel. You see I have always been trapped inside of a shell, even when I was very young I was shy but you made it a point to deny it's all in my mind you said to me a billion times but did you know that I was dreaming of dying, drowning, suffocating, nearly injuring myself as the tears would fall down. I was a suicidal case thanks to the things people had forced me to endure you thought it was funny but would you still if you knew how violent I had become towards myself?!
Just try to imagine now, you have a child and will probably have more what will you say to them when they come rushing in through the door, their angering tears slapping down against the floorboards as if they were raindrops will you let them know you were not a victim!? I bet you will lie and tell them something to confide in I hope for their sake you do because if I knew that my parents caused others to feel such ways well ******* I bet I'd have went insane knowing I was living in the same house as a perpetrator. *How could you do that, mother!?

Nothing I do is perfect, and that's what terrifies me.
I stare and stare at the crooked lines and microscopic germs,
not able to be seen under the naked eye.

My room intimidates me to the extent in which I'm afraid to enter.
The mess is obscure, chipped paint off the walls and pencils thrown to the sides in utter frustration.
I can't focus when what I'm doing isn't exact.

Math causes me to panic.
Not because of the algebraic expressions, but because of the erase marks that always litter the paper afterwords that never seem to hide.
They're always there, showing off how horrid my handwriting looks.

The idea of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder makes me want to scurry.
I know I'm a living example of it, and I know how nerve-wracking it is being around me.
Because everything needs to reach my standards, and nothing ever does.

I looked into your eyes and knew how easy it would be to **** you.
I plotted its path and then decided how I would end myself afterwords.
I felt nothing.

Sometimes I feel everything.
I cry and scream and curse, gasping for air. Blubbering in fits. Grabbing at my chest trying to feel for a heart.
Most days now I am normal.
My brain is functioning and my numbness is almost all but gone.
On those days I cry.

I looked into your eyes and thought it would be easy to **** you.
Surely then I would see the face of god.
He would come down, flesh out my pale limbs and introduce me to the sun I haven't seen in so long.
Take one look at me in that light, see my claws and teeth, maybe glance into my eyes.
See my fear, not for him, but for what I've become.
What I've transformed myself into.
Take note of the hours it took to shape my brain into this lackluster heap.

Maybe that crimson pool collected near you would drown me,
I would be consumed and swept away, only to emerge, my skin dyed by the parting sea.
Reborn like a Phoenix, not from its own death but from that of anothers.

Maybe my thoughts never did get better.
Maybe my skull is still screaming at the thought of housing my brain.
Something inside it doesn't sit right,
scratching at the edges of my recesses it demands attention.
It knocks and growls. Clacking its teeth until in one instant, it is released.

I looked into your bare soul, naked and clean next to mine.
Its polished exterior in contrast to the soot of my own.
How can you bear to be next to me?
Your clean gaze further sullied mine's black.
***** and bent, grime in its crevices.
The kind of grit I have been picking out by hand my entire life.
Now my fingernails are split, cracked past the quick and caked by filth.

What would you think if you read this?
Would you cry?
Would you back away?
You would probably kiss me,
take the knife out of my grasp,
bleach my hands white,
sew my frayed dress back together,
wash the dirt off my bare feet,
drop me down into the caverns of fitful sleep so that I may not glare at my reflection in silver.

It doesn't matter if it's rusted, it doesn't matter if its broken, it doesn't matter if its clean.
All that matters is your reaction to me, not fear, not disgust.
The simplicity of not wiping away a smudge on a mirror.

A spontaneous creation unmatched,
to create a conversation is not a  plan that can be hatched,
it happens without you know it had began,
and it ends and rebirths without knowing it can,
like a different show but all the actors the same,
it cant be loud nor tame,
but afterwords you feel proud,
because it happened,
and something inside of you was tapped in,
to be able to share something that is hard to do,
a spontaneous creation in lieu,
of you being human.

Ha oh weee

swings

signs cries lovely voice you decide on that
shirt

yellow

my favorite

intricate

she wears

tank top
and she is well

filled out

to her

she

smiles at me

I uppity

ruppity

cafffeine

at a cafe

chocolate bars

paintings

nice hat
do you like it
I like that part
funny

hee hee

sunflower

for you!
for me:?}?????
yes!
ahh
smell!
okay
rolling in the blades of grass
ice cream afterwords
popsicle
itching your neck


Sunflower

SUNFLOWER SANG:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iM4gJiov5eo

Ill give you that I
never put to much
effort in trying
anything with you,
In fact I used work as an
excuse to not come
home at night, did
whatever I had
to do to avoid coming
home to you laying
on my bed and having
to lay next to you. I
felt obligated to have
*** with you, felt
cheap afterwords and
hated myself for not ending
it. I felt bad that you
had no one in your life
and no one to turn to

Received: Wed, September 30 8:22 am

In thought you can lift the poor cheated girl above your head,
The flower strains toward your grey iris and it implies a silhouette
Of blue wayward passion,
Of the luke warm pool of it in you,
Your reflection is broken as it has ever been,
But implies the existence of its once intact face
The feeling of your taught whimper gone limp
As the very blink of feeling out from last breath
Has no end, has no faith, as light is only a blanket
And shadow its shivering body,
In finding strength to hold you up
I find the talent to beat you down
And afterwords we will continue,
To tear our lungs apart.

my insecurity exploded like the sounds from the speakers we set up together
i wandered out the back door into the bitter cold
still wearing your red plaid button-up over my dress
the snow was coming down in flurries when you ambled outside after me
"there you are, i was looking for you"
please don't notice the tears freezing on my cheeks
you stepped up onto the concrete slab i was calling my home
"hey," you looked at my face "are you alright?"
****.
just tell him you're feeling faint. he'll believe it
"aw. i'm sorry."
you are so clueless. you never know i looked up at the sky and the snow fell onto my lips and melted instantaneously
"well," your arm weaved its way around my waist "would you like to go back inside?"
of course i do. i know how much this means to you and i cannot take it from you
i nodded and you hopped down, offering up your hand to help me down
then lacing your fingers with mine
your eyes shine brighter than you'll ever know
when you are so much as in a room with music that you love
i held your hand and leaned on your shoulder as we swayed together to the rhythm
you placed your lips against my hair and i swear that everyone else disappeared
i could have died in that very moment because ******
i have let myself fall in love with you
around 10:30 you set up your bass
a lonely speaker and your newly written lyrics
three people around you, and i, over in the corner on the couch
staring at you and knowing that if any of the others were to look up at me
they could see all the simple adoration pouring out of me
afterwords you told them about the story behind the song
the boy you wrote about and i wonder if any of them could tell
that the boy is actually you
because i knew before you even told me
as we left, finally
close to 10:45 when i expected to be home by then
you drove me across the street to where i was parked and i told you
i feel like a nothing
i love you with every piece of me yet sometimes you leave me in the shadows
and i know it's ******* pathetic but it's how i feel
"oh," you said my name, a beautiful noise in your breathtaking voice "you are everything"
everything? EVERYTHING?? how the hell could i be everything, even when you are that to me?
your head on my shoulder "you are my best friend. you are more than you could ever know"
it's the same for you. because you will never see how much i truly love you
"in the past few months, i have felt like ending it. more than once"
no.
"i just... i very much wanted to die."
no no no. holy hell, no
"and i would go to sleep on those nights... after, you know, chickening out"
and thank every god in every religious philosophy you woke up and came back to me
"then i'd wake up in the morning, come to school... and see you"
i am so glad you did. god. i couldn't do this without you. and i hope you know that
"and i would tell myself: 'hey. there is one reason to stay" you paused, and i was crying already. "for her.'"
oh god. oh god. oh god.
"so in many ways you have saved me. and you keep doing that. you never give up me even though you probably should. even though mostly everyone else has."
don't you get it? i would never give up on you. because there is no way i would be alive without you
and without you there is no me
"promise me something." your arm was around my shoulders and i was leaning into your chest, staining your t-shirt with eyeliner-soaked tears.
anything
"if i do end up..." you stopped. "you know, if i'm gone, i need you to keep going. continue, for both you and i."
you are the stupidest most wonderful person i have ever encountered in my entire life
i screamed at you, tears like a waterfall, streaking my face black
and you stared into my eyes, you brave soul
never would i be able to go on without you! never!
you are my lifeline
"and you are mine"
don't you dare leave me
you closed your eyes and nodded. "okay" you said, on the verge of crying yourself
i grabbed either side of your face and brought you closer to me
kissed your forehead and wrapped my convulsing arms around you
you can never leave me. i won't allow it
"see?"
see what? see that you're stupid because you don't comprehend your magnificence? see that you are clueless because you do not understand that at least someone in this world is hopelessly devoted to you?
"you are everything."
*no. you are.

I broke I let go Not like I could control it
it just happened my breathing quickened my heart sped up my mind was buzzing and tears came uncontrollably
I held them in too long, my feelings they're coming out
violently, destructively, and with out notice.
Im a prisoner of my own contentious now
Every cruel word becomes more true the more i say it.
but i dont care. its about time I lost it
it was bound to happen at some point
Im oddly thrilled, excited to destroy myself.
Its exhilarating the way my body goes fully numb afterwords
My daily Novocaine the calm after the storm
yes, i find my pain beautiful in a way i cant fully explain
dont feel its not really there. it wont ever go away.

Tonight are we loud

We are

Gone and again

Sure as your skin is stunning

Sure as it tightly wraps up both of us

Twisting and tying knots

Around us.

Coming back to being naked as light allows

And too young to not be naked

Getting away with everything

Not quite as children

But more a child’s pet dog

In the moment of slipping out of his collar

And running free

Away towards something he only knows about

Never coming back till its found

And once it is

Love for the first time stands still

From that point on and not a second longer

Afterwords we get lost running home

Till we find home.

you say all the perfect things
i swear to god you practice them
repeating them in quick refrain
& they're lovely once they leave your lips
& i love their ringing resonance
& i whisper the same words in loving pace
because i love the way they sound & taste
but i hate how afterwords my lungs feel clean
& i hate the way my tongue can't speak
unless i use your mouth to breathe

The only part
I like about
fighting with you
is loving you

afterwords...

What if the biggest rush in life is taking your last breath
Having everything flow through you
And out
All your memories suddenly start to  play a movie on fast forward with people dancing across the projector of your mind
It must be a lovely sight
But then afterwords come
People all the sudden pretending to know you
Said they talked to you
They will dress up in pretty black laced dresses and the men will be wearing nice button down shirts with suits
It's a nice costume
there will be hundreds at your funeral
But you will only know a few
Funny how people start listing when your dead for many will speak about your jokes as if they found them interesting
Study them  for a underlying meaning
Missing the pun completely
Because once you have gone extinct
People start to see you as a specimen rather than a person  
And sometimes I am convinced it'll be easier
To greet death when you see everyone in your life slowly turn green
Including yourself

Well, there.
I found it, shins
I found,
a huge place in the back of the head and locked in bed, maybe id
can only pinch with the residue residing
Swelling and spilling, the only true bad Smile.
The stem ringing and squealing
Swelling, kneeling
Afterwords, left and sizzle stigmad
Talk to your kids a lot. please!
Because handstand pushups only make
The thing competitive with no
Relatable taste
And movement from the vital stops
Which attracts the secret cops.
They're city veins.
Swollen, stolen.

Underneath a golden light
my hands fell behind your hips
and we danced outside
in the middle of the street
to the silent tune of our breathing

As we circled that perimeter
our earthly worries drifted away
you'd laugh everything I stepped on your foot
then afterwords you'd stomp on mine

We must have been quite the sight
to curious neighbors
peering from their bedroom windows
as we swung each other like gypsies
until neither of us could breathe

Well, there.
I found it, shins
I found,
a huge place in the back of the head and locked in bed, maybe id
can only pinch with the residue residing
Swelling and spilling, the only true bad Smile.
The stem ringing and squealing
Swelling, kneeling
Afterwords, left and sizzle stigmad
Talk to your kids a lot. please!
Because handstand pushups only make
The thing competitive with no
Relatable taste
And movement from the vital stops
Which attracts the secret cops.
They're city veins.
Swollen, stolen.

Vll.
Wrath- I will dig my fingernails into my palms leaving crescent shaped reminders and I will clench my jaw so hard you'll swear it's gonna shatter and I will scream louder than you did when you broke your wrist because you were trying to fly from the top of the staircase.
Vl.
Greed- I'll smash my lips against yours every chance I get, leaving you with a sore tongue and ****** teeth and your mom will start to wonder why you always cover your mouth when you talk about me.
V.
Sloth/laziness- You're gonna call me eight times in a row because I haven't been at school in a week and you'll  think maybe I just have my phone turned off or I'm sick in the hospital but when you stop by on your way to buy me a "get well" card you'll find me in my room reading Cosmo under a heated blanket.
lV.
Pride- You'll see me in chemistry the next week with a new hairstyle and a short little skirt that must make me clumsy because I keep dropping things and picking them up in front of boys I used kiss in parking lots.
lll.
Lust- Your friends all tell you how lucky you are and your dad gives you a pat on the back and your little brother asks if you accidentally punched me because he heard me screaming so loudly last night and you start to wonder what's wrong with you. Why don't you feel "lucky".
ll.
Envy- You watch me trade out Pizza for water at lunch and every now and then when I glance at other girls waists you'll try and hold my hand and tell me I'm perfect and that I need to eat but I tell you I'm full and someone whispers under their breath "of jealousy".
l.
Gluttony- I get mad at you every Wednesday when you go to your Honors Society meetings and even though they're only twenty minutes I'll cry in the bathroom just loud enough for everyone to hear and when you ask me afterwords not to cause a scene I'll scream in your face and even though you won't know what I'm saying you'll understand that this isn't what you signed up for and I'll see it in your eyes and I'll leave before you ever get the chance.

To Shortie

There Is something
unique
Behind those eyes
Like a Sun explotion.

Right there happens
A thousand kisses deep
& all the others
Love songs thats makes you
Cry

But, afterwords:
Neither you save me
& neither i fly
So the only thing thats remains
Is this funny smell
Of a memorie on your hips

Give me some clear water
That one thats spill into the rain
and seductively brings life
and life eventually gets
one degree higher
till the sun rises
and you can see
the desert flowers blooming,
and the wind,
colored gorgeous and chanting wind
takes away
my deep dream
about a pair of beautyful
eyes
cause thats belong
to eternity and God
and they are so sacred
as your bellybottom
and my wish

I would cross the living room and my tummy would grumble
I would imagine I did all the things I never did                                
I would shatter every chip in my mouth
I would brush my teeth afterwords, tooth by tooth
I would climb on top of a chair and feel like queen of the world
I would do anything to be right next to the refrigerator staring at food  
Just for food ...