I rip the Moroccan good luck coin off of my neck
bury the coppery metal in the string I have wrapped it in
and throw it beside the empty monster BFC
which sits next to the empty canteen that I filled with now sour blackberries this Sunday
the stack of losing scratch tickets, about $8.00 worth
and all the boxes that I have packed my life into and stuffed underneath that little card table
in front of the couch I live on in my great-aunts living room
which used to be my grandma's living room.

I throw that coin there
remembering just a minute ago seeing the dried tear tracks down my cheeks
which, at this moment, scream her name
my most recent temporarily failed obsession.

In this moment she is just another attempt for me to try to feel loved
being there, continuously, for her
wearing on my joints
on my mind
every last thought turning into paranoia
as I spill my heart out over a text, a ******* text, again
and she doesn't reply
again
and again
and again.
no reply.
And in those moments, this moment
I thirst for the glint of silver in this lonely, cold lamplight
for the feel of the knife I threw over the cliff and into the cold waters of discovery bay
in my hands.
I thirst for the feel of the tip pressed into my skin
the blade pulled, quickly, but never fast enough
slicing skin and hair and letting her name
(whatever her name is at the name)
spill, a thousand times across me
warm and somehow relaxing
as if telling me I was always right.

I thirst for that feeling warmth as I tell myself
that she doesn't care enough to keep me warm
that nobody does.
That I'm just a lower lip to bite once and forget,
just a sea of words bubbling over and reaching out for those closest
those who have ever even looked in the direction of this endless ocean and smiled,
reaching for them, grabbing them, tearing them to pieces, and drowning them,
or trying to, accidentally.
And then, when they escape, turning into a sea of rage
of warmth
of blood
that consumes itself and stays at low tide for days, weeks, months at a time
alone
the words having no sand, no skin, no mind other than their own to spill out upon.

I throw that coin there
on the carpet
where the TV used to be,
it now sits in my forgotten fathers bedroom
in the house I ran away from.

I throw that coin there
in the shadow of the empty monster BFC
hiding it from the glint of the dying lamplight
that makes my head scream
and my teeth clench
at 1:02am
as I wait for her
as I wait to somehow be remembered
to somehow have someone give a ****
and realize it's never going to happen.

I sit here, at now 1:04am staring at that coin
that she took out of her cars cup holder and gave to me
that I have worn on my neck for four days
leaving a white line through the redness of a sunburn.
that cold metal hitting my breastbone continuously, making a hollow thumping sound
reminding me of the hollowness in my chest
that even that heart,
which is beating faster than the off tempo drummers in the park in Leschi,
wired on 800mg of caffeine,
is hollow;
pumping less and less blood into my body with each disappointment
with each innocent passerby who finds herself buried under the words
that are floating there
close enough to see
close enough to hear on nights like this where they just want to break forth.

I sit here staring at that dull copper in the shadows
and dreaming of silver glinting in the lamplight.

My My My….
My mother is irrational
My father is a legend
My sister is an angel
My brother is a philosopher
But what is to become of me?

I stand here steady and calm
Everyday you’re systematic
The unconscious strides your mind makes in a moment
No one can target where they originate
You just know that when they appear
Let it marinate within you, seep into your skin

It’s hungry now
The monster lives and feeds
Nothing less will suffice..
Than the utter idea of moving on to something new
Once it’s fed, you wait with anticipation
Until the hunger consumes you once more

I'm beginning to believe
That happiness is just an illusion.
While in the moment you may smile,
When it fades, it leaves behind confusion.

Tell me, why do we blow bubbles
When they burst in seconds few?
You can't change the color of the sky, my dear.
It will always, always be blue.

And even while you're smiling,
There's this ever-rising flood.
Reminding you of your pain and despair
And that you'll always turn back to blood.

I'm hearing voices in my mind,
Replaying loved ones loving me.
But as I begin to find those thoughts,
They turn their backs and flee.

Why do we struggle at the top of the water?
Wouldn't it be easier to sink?
At least if the water consumes you,
Then you won't be forced to think.

“I don’t know if anyone could ever love me,” you say.

“Don’t you see how I worship you?” I scream with my thoughts, but you can’t hear me anyway. I debate, asking you, whispering in your ear.

Instead, I am silent, unsure of how to comfort you. I don’t want to tell you that I love you, not yet.

So I close my eyes and trace my fingers along the lines of your jaw, cheeks, nose, and eyebrows.

I touch you like one would handle a porcelain teacup. You could break if I don’t think about keeping my fingers light as I follow the fine craftsmanship all across your back.

I don’t tell you the words of praise and admiration I trace into your back as you crane into my touch. The body absorbs what the mind cannot fathom.

I place kisses on your belly, the back of your leg, and the places that are never loved. When I love, I want to love all of you truly.

“No one has ever touched me like this, so softly,” you say, and right then I want to burst into tears. How dare they! How dare they not treat you like artisan bread, like a mural in an alleyway, like freshly molded pottery before it enters the kiln.

What a crime it is that you have never known what it is like to be held for the sake of holding, to know touch that has no fine print and no malice.

You quiver and shake when I touch you like the novelty of this feeling is too much. I make a joke about how sensitive you are, so maybe for a moment, the reality of why is just a joke instead of reality. And for a moment, you can cope.

You don’t like being looked at in these intimate moments, so I think about how I would describe your eyes in a poem instead. I’ve had ample opportunities for this, and I have come up with the following:

The sky with just the right amount of clouds, the kind of day with a light breeze that makes you want to pick blueberries.

The first drop of rain. It always seems to land on your face, like a kiss from Mother Nature.

The newest flower on an orchid plant, only a bud the day before. It is the same color you want at our wedding. It feels like such a far-off thing to me, a vague concept, but to you, it feels like the Save the Dates have just been sent in the mail.

The rest are a bit much.

—

I remember to massage your toes, the ball of your foot, the arch, the heel. You don't like feet, including your own foot, but I am here to love the parts of yourself that you can't love.

I pray to you in my thoughts that you can feel my love through my thumbs rubbing healing circles into your tense shoulders. That somehow, my actions will help you remember what a divine being you are, a god with amnesia.

What are you the god of? I think, maybe, that you are the god of moments. Humorous glances from across an aisle, Dutch ovens, singing too loud on night car rides, vicious tickle fights that end in sweet kisses, interrupting each other at work, finishing each other's thoughts and sentences, taking my glasses off when I fall asleep with them on, tiny routines that are barely considered routines but are done almost without thinking all the same.

I, for the first time, feel seen by a deity. There is no higher power, no sin. There is no wrong. There is only the reverence I give to you, that is expelled by every cell in my body, that consumes every waking thought.

There is you, and there is me. There is us. And that is enough.

Don't you know I worship you?

Since my mother died
I have lost both
my clothes
and skin.

Every gust of feeling
blows straight into
my torn paper heart,
makes my bones
rattle.

Friends, your beautiful poems
like huge looming waves
threaten now
to overwhelm,
crush
sink
my tiny boat,
so frail
so fraught
so mortal.

I read
and bail
for all I am worth
beset by the image
of the gypsy moth
airborne
in that last instant
before the fire
consumes it
utterly.

Is it my voice, or yours, that I hear
When I pick up a knife and fork and put
It straight back down because
I haven’t earned my reward?

Are they my eyes, or yours, that trick me
Into thinking I’ve gained immense amounts of weight,
Even though my clothes hang loose and
I’ve lost two inches off my waist?

*

It’s ironic,
this disease;
it eats away at me.
The malignancy consumes me.

He finds himself somewhere new, a beach with his beautiful moon being licked by the ocean waves. Then he notices her, dancing at the tide's edge. He comes to realize that the moon led him to her through its final moonbeams for the night. As the Day cracks into a new dawn, It finds two sets of footprints walking along tide's edge on a path to the moon while the sea slowly consumes the trail.

To Lose It All

The tears the flood the sea are now dry.
A drought consumes your throat and gasping for air you inhale a dust that forces you to succumb to your fate.
You're living, you're breathing, and moving, and you're empty.
A shell of your former self. The ghost of a perfect stranger.
There's no complexity in disillusionment; And an empty locked room remains that way until a purpose is brought to its doorstep.
But without the drive, the purpose barely thrives.

Slipping,
I am slipping,
Beyond the safety,
Of the surface,
Sinking,
Into the weightlessness,
Of transparent blue-green,
That consumes me,
And I drown,
With you,
In my subconcious

Close the door,
Firmly shut,
Hear it click,
Locked away.

Pretend I'm not here,
I'm nowhere,
For I'm not where
I want to be
So
I may as well be nowhere.

I can hear them outside,
Talking,
Laughing,
Love,
Happiness, it's never been so
Heartbreaking.

My heart is filled with joy for them
Yet yearns for the joy I'm missing.
Disappointment consumes me for my eyes
Are not supposed to be green.
Never have I felt so happy for someone
And sorry for myself.

c'est sublime

life is melting
too sweet to stand
so sweet
that your teeth ache
for more, just always a little more

c'est sublime

the color of the sky is melting
from intense to understanding
so brooding
from aggravation red
to regretful navy
so many colors, variations on being

c'est sublime

the ground is melting
starting to die
the grass doesn't prickle
no sensations to feel where you lie
besides sinking
to be covered before a new season comes

c'est sublime

it is melting
dripping down your skin
hot wax into freezing water
you want it, you leave it
you desire it, it consumes you
without qualms
the ultimate paradise

i seek it everywhere i go
the ecstacy

c'est sublime

tres sublime

Dear ghost of a lover,
Sweet, angelic thoughts.
Temptation in its most swelling form.
Haunt me, please haunt me?
Haunt my thoughts, and my experiences...
Just be there.

Desperation clinging to every vibration.
Vibrations devoid of you, of your presence.
Decadent ghost of a stranger I must
Forget.

Victim to my salvation.
Deserter of my desperation.
Lover from a lifetime ago.
Seek me. Your vengeance of
Silence is too cruel.
The emptiness consumes me.

hands raised to the sky as he runs,
young and wild, curious, carefree;
sunlight bleeds through his fingers
not enough,
he wants to touch the sun.
you mustn't get too close, Daedalus warns him
and then Apollo smiles;

it feels like soaring,
being on the receiving end of
something so bright.
full of youth, seduction is easy
i think your mouth would taste like summer
he surrenders
slave to a burning star
forgive me, father

when he flies,
the taste of freedom
is sweet and heavy on his tongue
but you're not really free
sunbeams envelope him
his skin is golden; Apollo's touch is fire
he's never felt so warm
loved

i could destroy you
he's always been reckless
you won't
throws himself into the flames with abandon
it burns; it's violent; it consumes him
this isn't love
defiant, he smiles even as he screams
it's love to me

Apollo watches as he plummets
falling, falling, collapsing, wings singed and broken
gods shouldn't feel this helpless
it was love to me too
the slap of skin,
the crunch of bones breaking in the waves.
nothing could convince him to keep looking
as Daedalus screams
and holds his fallen son

gods bleed ichor,
gold like Apollo's light;
Apollo has eyes like a clear blue sea,
that's what Icarus once told him;
now Icarus paints the ocean,
bleeds scarlet into Poseidon's waters
and the sun god watches.
how fitting that you'd taint the ocean like you tainted me
Apollo's eyes are red from crying

was it worth it?
in the afterlife, he wears scars
where he used to wear wings
i'd fall a thousand times over just to kiss your lips
immortal now, his soul is sun-stroked
they'll write odes to you,
the boy who flew too close to the sun
even in death, his spirit is bright with innocent joy
he laughs
it sounds like Cupid's lyre

let them, he beams. at least i flew.

If I could write to the past
Of all that has happened
Of all of what I went through
Of how everything happened so fast

So this to you
To the younger me
To the innocence
That no longer consumes me

Dear younger me
Of all the things I want to tell you
Words can not explain enough
Of what actually happened

Dear younger me
Would I tell how you will go through so much
So much pain
So much heartache
But you will come out so much stronger

Dear younger me
Would I think to tell you the truth
Of all those you will lose
Those who you thought would be there
But now are left confused
 

Dear younger me
Would I tell you of the places you will travel
Some creating your best memories
Or how others will still leave you up at night

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to protect you
To keep you shielded
From the dark

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to warn you
Of the dangers that lurk
Even in the most trusting smile

Dear younger me
With how much I would give
To be back in your shoes
Even just for a moment

But if even given a moment
I would change nothing

Dear younger me
You will go through hell and back
You will cry some nights until you fall asleep
You will witness things you wish you had never witness
You will try to die at your lowest moments at the age of 13

But do not be frighten

Dear younger me
While you are going through so much
While you feel left in the dark
That you have hit rock bottom
You will rise
Stronger than you have before

Dear younger me
While our life is not over yet
You will meet amazing people
Those who love you
When others wouldn’t

Dear younger me
You will see amazing things
Color brighter than you have before
You will feel peace at times

Dear younger me
Things are never perfect
But you will make it
You are better than you once imagined

Dear younger me
For all the things you wished you were told
For all the things you wished you had done
Even now
I wouldn’t change them for a younger me

No music fills my tortured soul
As fire makes his move.
He wraps me in his pain embrace
and I, I cannot move.

The dance is never ending
Twisting, turning,dizzying now.
I hate my flaming torturous partner
I've tried to leave but don't know how.

Through days and nights the dance goes on
Until he steps away.
Not far enough for me not to burn
Much to close to stay.

And in the end we'll dance this dance
as he consumes my body and soul
All I can say is that I tried,
And death
finally
gave me control.

I look at the tree standing tall
It's just standing there in rain and shine, and wind
It doesn't move,  it doesn't talk, not a sound
Sometimes I wonder, what is going on inside of it

The tree is there to serve us, asking for nothing
No rent is charged to the birds that make it their home
No sitting charge, no waiting charge, no matter
For how long you stay on its branch or under its shade

Apart from that, the tree is giving us flowers and fruits
It produces them for the birds and animals to consume
It consumes none of its output, only gives it away  
To come and take as much as you can FOC

I sometimes wonder, is this tree for real
How can you give, give, give and only ask
That you leave it alone to do its work
It's work of serving you wholly and totally

I salute you, O Tree, and I salute your creator
For all that you do, for all that you do
For the birds, animals, humans, and even insects
Thank you, O Tree. Thank you, O Tree

On a heap of ashes
       a mother sits
               tearing at her clothes
                         as life's demands tear at her soul

On a heap of *******
       a mother makes her bed
                breathing in the stale air
                         as the darkness consumes her soul

On a heap of decay
       a mother sits and cries
                salt stained cheeks and bruised lips
                        as she watches her children pass her by

On a heap of mined soil
        a mother sits and contemplates
                the suffering and sacrifice, she willingly had made
                        the precious stones, the gold and diamonds

Nothing but natural resources - depleted.

This spirit is a fire that consumes,
that burns the words to ashes and embers,
energy rises in beautiful plumes,
revealing what the hidden remembers.

Drawn to the call of the consuming flame,
awed by the wonder of the mystery,
once burned by the spirit, never the same,
charred remnants become light of history.

Nothing can be done to dampen this soul,
this burning life can not be extinguished,
flames growing rapidly out of control
calling out a new hope for the vanquished.

I am consumed, but I shall not be burned.
This kiln of passion has purified me.
Seared in my mind are the lessons I’ve learned.
Burning love no longer terrifies me.

Hope thrown on the still steaming ashes of the old empire fusing with the hearts of freethinkers and go getters burning beneath the chest of women and man turning young people into dragons with amber colored eyes and wings that stretch a mile high

Reaching above the blinding smoke of broken industry grabbing at the setting sun with still ****** claws

Will they burn out never to know why the heavens glow, or maybe this is just the beginning the match that lights the torch

The wild fire that consumes cleansing and purifying to bring on a new life maybe not for me or you, more likely for the ones long after

Leaving only remnants of the ones who dared to become dragons to be remembered as a roaring flame whose dreams where embers with veins like gasoline filled rivers running just beneath the skin ready to be pierced ready to burst and ignite.

The waves of these oceans
Crash upon my drowning body.
Seeing patterns in the sun,
Slowly slipping from the reality
I've been placed in.

As water fills my lungs, I dig for open land
But water fills my open hands,
And I know what to expect.

Let's dissect this thought process.
I understand now that my slowly slipping mind will leave me drowning in the fear
Of peers fearing for me.
I'll begin to Forget things they said,
And things I love as this insanity consumes me.

I'm sorry for double texting
and reading into every word-
that I miss you so much
and that it consumes me,
and that I hold onto every little snippets of
emotion crumbs that you leave.

Sorry I just don't know how to love in a healthy way.

I'm raw my flow  consumes dextrose
Tell peta  I do the most
Loud sounds I'm out in the public
Friends with  Lions we close like cousins
I'm cooking ..in a gourmet kitchen
Chicken is my opposition
Sweet and sour
Predator I'm not a scavenger no coward
Blood falls I need a shower
Drip drop dew mornings
Don't sleep on me like comas
Consuming beats down to the bone
I sip the marrow for a bonus

I am clean like an infants first wash no rap sheet
Walking thru the market
Like shouldn't food be free
Didn't God give us the same control he gave Adam and eve
I am sorry my mind at times goes on a spree
A spree of thoughts
My brain is heavy plus it kicks bass drum
My thoughts run miles
I need pennies for my thoughts
Must be properly endowed

Watch what you eat fool check your food
Fool check your spoon
Food poison
Nasty now you vomiting fluids flowing a fountain
To that server you should have watched how you spoke
Face timing yourself
Seeing your mouth move
Saliva crashing into the coast of your tooth
Yuck images social products
Dislike that dislike you
Keep it true
Tom sawyer and Huck
Instafriends
On instagram
Madoff money instascam


The Poets Lounge go to www.youhavetolisten.com
Every Tuesday 6pm-8pm

I apologise
For all the hurt I have caused
I am sorry
For all the things I have said
I regret
Thinking that I might come through
I despise myself
For allowing you to believe in me

Forgive me
For how I feel
Forgive me
For pushing you away
I need to protect you
From myself

Nothing more than internal death and destruction
Something so pure would only succumb to my corruption
A poison seeps though my pores
Eroding away that which is closest

Don't touch me
Lest you catch my disease
Don't believe me
A veil of deception clothes my words

As the autumn sun shines
I wilt away
Powerless against the evil
Blinded by darkness' entirety



In the darkness the horrors swarm before my eyes
In the darkness the terror plays on my mind
In the darkness the tendrils weave themselves upon me
In the darkness I scream unheard

In the darkness they remove my flesh
In the darkness they tear out strands of my hair
In the darkness they burn away my soles
In the darkness I betray myself

In the darkness my body tears apart
In the darkness my pain consumes me
In the darkness my trust was broken
In the darkness I will never heal

In the darkness it dissolved my soul
In the darkness it stole my worth
In the darkness it befouled my body
In the darkness I lost myself