Would you think less of me if I told you how much I want to kiss your thighs?
And your hip bones
And that v of skin
Feel the heat of your body that I can’t turn off
Even in the depths of winter,
Your warmth is in every cheek to cheek hug
Every brush of your hand over mine
We could be in the icy temperatures of the north pole and I would still feel a hotness in your fingertips when you pass me another layer
I’m a good girl
But looking at you makes me feel like I deserve a thousand detentions
I hope you know I love you when I think about your skin tight against mine
Your mouth hot on mine
My hands untucking your checked shirt
I refuse to call these thoughts *****
Because your body is so **** beautiful
The muddy soil around a bright flower doesn’t devalue its worth, does it?
I hope you know I think your heart is as powerful as the sun
You’re what burns every piece of wooden structure that holds my body stable
Human jenga
And even though you have no game plan,
You always win.

Lately I have been thinking about reasons to live, not because I am suicidal or I am ready to die, at least not now. I have been thinking about reasons to live because I have started to take the path of least resistance. I am no longer living I am merely alive, I wake up, survive, wake up, survive, wake up, survive. I wake up and I survive, and that’s it. So I made a list, of reason to stay alive.


1. Laying in the grass in the middle of summer

2. Dancing in the rain

3. Learning stupid, pointless skills

4. You never know, My Chemical Romance could come back

5. Going for long walks alone

6. Concerts

7. Mosh pits

8. Pulling all nighters that you regret the next day

9. Laying in the grass watching the clouds

10. Driving aimlessly in the country

11. Road trips

12. Spending time with your best friend

13.Sleeping until noon

14. There is someone, even if it is one person, who cares

13, wait 14, no 15, that’s right

15, you are probably better at counting than I am...

Finally, you should stay alive just for the reason of living life to the fullest. Stay living to prove those who said you can’t wrong, stay alive to see every state every country, stay alive to prove to yourself that you are stronger than the **** that is happening around you, stay alive if not for your self stay alive for you family your friends, hell, stay alive for your dog because life is meant for living...

This is a conversation I had with God.
In which I told the silence of my room
that surrealism is the only ism in which God makes total sense.

I could see the chalk whites of his teeth trying to bite down on his words
but before they could be derailed his tongue caught wind and his words assailed
as he said, "I hate surrealism."

As if his words would never be caught dead in an urn
sometimes his mouth looked more like a jail in an Old Western
and his thoughts fought like criminals desperate to break out
until they finally found a way to use his tongue as an escape route.

"No, I don't hate surrealism," he says
"I just hate surrealism as a movement."

Upon hearing this my spine coils like a wine-corker-spiral-staircase
upward; where my brain plugs my cranium like a cork
and my eyes drip like blank canvas,
I am one hollow statue decaying in a melting structure
with wax in my ears I feed landscapes to winged insects
as I drown in pools of water/color.

Behind me is a sky so burlesque it actually looks like the clouds are crying.
Under me is a ground so vast it has nine horizons wrapped in a double helix.
Reconstructed beside me is a tree so old it could be the same wood as The Crucifix.
Nested inside me where my spine should be is a coat rack made crooked by the weight of all-nighters.
The texture of my skin makes it look like god paints with typewriters.

"No, no," he says, his voice turning melancholy, atomic, uranic, idyll,
"I don't hate surrealism as a movement,
because hate's such a strong word. Oh god, I guess I just don't get it."

Now I'm overcome with a sincere desire to light an entire herd of giraffes on fire
and sip wine beneath the light as if it were dinner by candlelight,

"Seriously?" I say. "Under giraffes, in this light
I can't tell if you're Lincoln or Jesus.
In fact, we all look like swans with elephant reflections.
Your trunk is a trumpet.
Don't even get me started on where we derive our visions of god
from where I stand everything casts a shadow in the shape of where it's heading
and the sky, vast and pale and open, the sky is the only all-seer
and the truth is far less surreal:
if your demons are ants then your god is an anteater."

I can see the chalk whites of his teeth stall door,
squeaky hinge, his mouth-
occupied with a realization he can't pronounce.
A pause as pregnant as a desert landscape,
ornamented with butterflies.

His head is an empty room with an evaporating skylight,
his ears, hang like clocks on a half-wall, melting.
The escalator to his brain is a spiral staircase moving in reverse.
His eyelids peel back like the last page of a two-dimensional book.
I can see with my Spellbound eyes, we are finally on the same page.

When his tongue curls back into his saloon jaw
like a bee sting rifle shot back into the mouth of a lunging tiger,
swallowed deep into the wells of a fish belly.

"I'm sorry" he says, "that's not what I meant."

if you
are


happy


and you
know
it


clamp your hams

It’s chocolate chip pancakes at 2:30am
And empty mugs of coffee on my desk

It’s adrenaline pumping through my chest
And the whir of my refrigerator

My focus is ping ponging between
All of the holes in the wall
Ignoring everything but
the pages in front of me

Watching everything through
A double pained glass
Realizing control is an illusion

I fight to get closer and closer to the audience
In my head
Exaggeration stretching onward like salt-water taffy
In the window

Fingers slipping, sweat beading
heavily above my upper lip
Not being 100% sure of anything
Who can blame me?
I am lost in the swivels of society

My face, as a ballerinas, when on pointe
An elegant mask full of nothing
Spinning and spinning
Relying on the inner soles of my feet

The clock slowly and forever slipping
As I cannot reach the top of the bunny hole
Too ******* stubborn to let any of the voices
In my head tell me I should crawl away

So, I look down and begin to read.

The friendship we had is something i wish i had cherish from the start
I never knew the impact you made on my life until the day you left
You were there with me for everything
We would pull all nighters until 5 am
And play PC games and sleep over skype
You mend my soul when i was hurting
And i was able to cope countless heartbreaks because of you
You made me feel wanted, loved and happy
I wish you didn't let me go
I wish i could prevent what i did that made you not want me in your life anymore
As much as i want you in my life again
As much as i want to talk to you again so i don't have to think about you all the time
I know that you're happy without me
And i wouldn't want anyone or anything interfering with your happiness
You deserve the best for after all you have done for me
And I will never forget you for that

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

well i can’t make
any promises,
and you can’t expect
to do the same either,
but when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

on friday night,
do you like to watch horror movies?
or are you the type,
to hang with your groupies
and smoke a doobie outside?

well, i’d choose neither.
and i **** at pulling
all-nighters,
but this little song
is not about me.

hey there,
hey you,
when i look at you,
something speaks the truth,
and i just gotta tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

they say if you ever lose
your sense of spark,
then something isn’t right.

and i can’t promise
to always be your sunshine,
but i’ll try and i’ll try
to always be the light.

if you’re in a room,
and you feel the gloom,
and nothing feels like
it’s going right,
look at me,
and you’ll see
somebody who likes

the way that you are,
the way that you do,
oh, you, hey you,
i’m digging you.

cause when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

i wanna know everything.
because you’ve got that something,
that i can’t explain.

Sleep beguiling,
calling, reaching,
Wondrous imaginings therein reside;
Cobwebs stretching, fingers petting
If only I could have that precious sleep denied.

Where would it take me,
race me, free me?
Glorious if there within I could abide;
caverns hidden, breakers ridden
If only I could have that precious sleep denied.

What would I find there,
be there, do there?
Magnificent adventures certainly implied;
queens dethroned, spells intoned
If only I could but have that precious sleep denied.

Instead I stay here,
stuck here, caught here,
Neither tasting nor seeing those miraculously supplied;
sockets rubbing, bed sheets snubbing
Longing for that precious sleep denied…

I hate all nighters
Stress and anxiety ****
I give up, good night.

She was above nasty gossip
and
He was a violent perfection
from rubber 24 hours

Because
His 24 hours was a
                                        violent
                ­                                        crazy
                   ­                                                  hate

He thinks stress has trans-fats

and

She has fear at all-nighters
because there's no such thing as
silly all-nighters
far from boredom and regrets

She wants to ban
her fear of boys being players with cement hearts
and
He wants to ban
pretty over-the-top perfection

The both fear
the regrets and pretty lies of love

But
He is pudding
when he's around her
and
She feels like he has a suit of
fresh cement lines

Because she's fallen and is now stuck

They get
jitters next to nerves
around each other

Sick of bad karma
on a birthday
on my birthday

She has 3x fresher ringtones
He thinks the sentence
"that smelly belly"
is funny
I love cheese

We are (nothing but)                                        
Rubber lines                                                   r     o            
like the ugly lies that were always  a      us      u
                                        ­                                    d         n

Ban Insecurity.

the sun is beginning to come out again
but it still burns to touch
the rays of heat glistening from afar
grazing the shoulders and scorching the fresh eyes

everything turned to dust when the light hit
particles of memories and personas leaving on a whim
caused by the fruits of harsh brightness
lasting until the devil went to sleep

but when the moon arose the world cooled
the blacktops didn't sizzle and the benches didn't burn
life froze when the moon came out
into a peaceful state of harmony

but the peace cannot last forever
and when it does, life becomes corrupt
the world grows quiet
time runs out

Once upon a time, sweet soldier, we were everything!

We were shy glances and piercing stares,
bitter coffee and sweet cider,
nervous laughter and easy smiles.

We were all-nighters and painfully early mornings,
utter exhaustion and unexplainable energy,
distracted work days and focused only on each other.

We were photographs and video recordings,
magic tricks and storytelling,
Monty Python and Charlie the Unicorn imitators.
(We were total dorks!)

We were late night jogs and wrestling,
motorcycle rides and beach-walking,
seekers of adventure and last minute decision making.

We were short pecks on the cheek,
and long passionate kisses,
fierce embraces and soft caresses.

We were soul-searchers and wound-healers,
dreamers and risk-takers,
keepers of secrets and whisperers of truth.

We were sanity and craziness,
possibilities and improbabilities,
with everything and yet nothing going for us.

We were in love.

I find myself always over thinking
Does she like me?
What does this mean?
Does this make me look gay?
Why are you doing this to me?
My thoughts overflow like a waterfall
Constantly going going going
Stop just take a deep breath
Don't freak out
Don't let them see you bleeding
Don't show signs of weakness
Blink less
Stay calm
If they see you crumbling
They will fill in your cracks
With hate and jokes
Like negative cement
Until you are stiff
With hatred towards yourself
Causing you to over think some more
Do they like me?
Why are they whispering?
Did I do something wrong?
My thoughts cave in my subconscious
And I can't help but sit there and worry
Pacing back and forth
Mind racing
Hands shaking
Heart pounding
Don't let them hear you breathing
Don't let them see you sweating
They can't get to you
Words become knives
Rumors become wounds
Jokes become scars
And I'm left there
Over thinking
Why did they say that?
Why did they treat me this way?
Over thinking back into depression
Why do they hate me?
Why am I even here?
I cause myself to reevaluate
Until I'm questioning my motives
I tell myself I'm a fighter
Pull all nighters
Until I'm calm enough to face the world
People hate because you are doing something great
Right?
I'm great right?
Why let people get to you
When everything they say doesn't have to define you
I'm in the eye of the storm
The worst part is behind me
Funny how the things you said didn't blind me
Relax
You're okay
Stop over thinking
Pray
Why can't they just leave me alone?
Why do I let my over thinking show?

The boy said
he wanted to be a
cowboy, astronaut, or vampire hunter
and go on fearless missions
The old man said
you're only destined
to be a system analyst technician

The boy said
he wanted to change the world
end poverty, hunger and war
The old man said
the only change you'll make
is at a 7-11 store

The boy said
he wanted to travel
to see Australia, Japan and Spain
The old man said
the only thing you'll see in life
is monotonous pain

The boy said
must you be so negative
life has surprises even you don't know
The old man said
you're just basking
in youth's ignorant glow

So the boy finally said
******* then, I'll be a writer
The old man said
I hope you like drunken all-nighters

The boy yelled
you're blinded by age
and your cynical ways
The old man stated
you too will drift in time
into apathetic malaise

So they boy walked away
to decide his future
and how to spend the rest of his days
The old man went to rest in his coffin
home of self defense mechanisms

flying laser concept
shooting down airplane
flashlights for cops
getting dissacsciative
instantly distroying
dazers on your car
weird sound things
warning warning
hit the brakes
it's not a deer
good ****
have you ever seen him?
Star wars kid?
The good 'ol days.
Before there was any kind of like...
I bet he's huge.
There he is.
**** can happen.
Expandable pole.
Destructive laser.
All talk, no walk.
Death rays.
Forget my blowtorch.
Let there be fire.
Let it rain.
Targeting him.
That's stupid.
**** this spider.
Did he?
Huge ******* spider.
Brightest spotlight ever.
Can't escape it.
Pretty good shot.
It's gonna die.
Choke it out.
Go to the end.
Sad.
**** a dog.
Hot in here.
People like motherhood.
Is that a ferret?
Don't drip on me.
Pennies on the floor.
Are you jealous?
I had a bad case.
Gotta get rockin'.
Something we both like.
Look at Harold.
I might be goin' down.
I've been goin' down.
People do the work.
Enable it.
Consume battery.
Bring it to a nine.
Should be easy.
Catchy and fitted.
Going viral.
Pyramid scheme.
I'm on the top.
The fastest.
The most accurate.
A community project.
It's a contest.
Easter eggs.
Enable fun times.
Enable opportunities.
Making it happen.
Shocking update.
It's getting there.
Few more sips.
Wooowww Wowww Wow.
Got 'em.
Sad day.
Pack up everything.
Say hi.
Bring her chocolate.
They like attention.
That **** ferret.
Sorry I got somber.
We got to be heroes.
Might be a good idea.
Nice seeing you.
Goodbye.
Au revoise.
Hard to say goodbye.
Concept of sleep.
Three all nighters.
One more thing.
Sweet dreams.
Bye.
Thanks.

My dad used to tell me that I shouldn't like boys because they were no good.
I used to believe that there was no way to avoid getting pregnant and that it just happened.
The first time I ever masturbated I was sure there was a baby inside me.
I used to blame my dad for me being gay.
I used to think that you were one of those "good guys" that everyone told me I would find.
Everyone told me it was my fault for ******* you and I believed it.
I knew you were falling in love with me but I didn't want you to leave.

Even though my whole body was shaking as you slid your hands up my clothes,
you wouldn't stop
Even though I told you about my past and you saw that I was frozen in fear,
whenever you pinned me down you didn't stop.

I now know that i'm gay because that is just how my brain is wired
when you jokingly told me the ****** broke I still didn't get pregnant
I now know that there is no such thing as a "good guy"
there are only people and their morals
I tell everyone that I hate you but the only way I could stop talking to you was by moving away.
I'm not in love with you but I miss our all nighters and the dinners we would make for each other.
you made me feel like i was the only one that mattered and that i was the most stunning and powerful woman in existence.
Although I plan on never seeing you again I am still stumped about the way you made me feel.
our relationship was just as messy and confusing as this poem
you are officially the most mysterious thing that ever happened to me.

I’m used to pulling all-nighters.
I’m used to very little sleep.
It’s the story of every insomniac.
But when I take a hit or do a line,
I’ll be awake for days at a time,
staying high enough to chase awake sleep.
I am on my fourth day of a binge,
and sleep continues to evade.
I don’t know if it would be worse
if i simply wait out the comedown,
or if i continue my breakdown.

anxiety is my middle name
i've got a sore heart and a rusted soul
***** tastes just like water if you drink it fast enough
but tonight is for working, for preemptive fixes,
for hand cramps and write-delete-write-delete-delete-delete
there comes a time where ******* and moaning just doesn't cut it anymore
and you have to slap your cheeks (to pull it together) to stay awake
putting down your security blanket is harder than it seems
but beauty is pain and pain is bloodshot eyes and all-nighters
so the bags under my eyes really are pretty then, right?
true or false:
-staying up all night will wash away your daytime memories like whisky never could
i don't drink coffee
i'm drowning myself in tea too sweet just to make it through the next few hours
because i have so ******* much work to do
it's okay, though, if only because i'm used to being surrounded by a hell of my own design
i can see the bottom of my mug now and it's sneering at me, mocking me
it knows that i'm seconds away from getting up and filling it with more sugar, more hot water
and so i do, fulfilling a prophecy i wrote myself
but to republish a correction: i don't like doing this, despite contradicting evidence
i don't like falling and failing and flailing
i don't like watching myself run out of breath and steam and ideas
i don't like hating myself
but i'm a wreck, a tragedy, a sorry *******, and so i don't try to fix it, not really
i drink tea

Caitlin, Courtney, Emma, and Ellen
Just a few of the girls that I know
I hit it, I quit it, forget it so quick
Their name disappears at the do'
They're here for the night and our bodies connect
At the hand, then the mouth, then the groin
This fish has been caught but my skin remains taut
Confining my soul from being joined
Until she arrives, these girls can kick back
Watch TV, relax, but leave me alone
I'll shout when I need, and grin when they leave
But grieve until my darling comes home
She'll walk through the door, I'll forget all those ******
Came by to visit or even existed
Forgive me my sins, a villain, ich bin
But simple *** is in man's logistics
Call me a chauvinist but when the days over with
I always treat my lady like a queen
The one-nighters sustain lust ingrained in my brain
But none mean a thang [sic] when I'm with that girl of my dreams

Where are the Kerouacs?
The Ginsbergs?
The Cassadys?

Drunk on
wine
and life

Riding the highways and railroads to dreams unseen, even by them.

Clashes of ideas, like bright lights in the dim daybreak of an all-nighters.
Fueled by cigarettes and philosophy.

Now everyone wants the same thing.
A boring spouse.
A boring job.
A boring house.

What happened to the generation of lost souls that once searched the open plains and the cramped alleyways?

For nothing more than a beautiful moment.

Its easier to tell people I've just been staying up too late.
That I lost track of time in a book or a show or a song.
It's easier to say that I've been writing a lot or it was an accident,
the time, when I looked at the clock
But the waves I've been told are in my eyes, see no shore in sight. They crash against themselves restless and relentless begging for some substance, some rescue from their depth.
Its easier to say anything than to admit I am depressed.
My mouth offers those fragile words like a poor orphan lifts its trembling hands. And the cold bite these impoverished muscles have sustained beg for the warmth of rest.
But when I say I am depressed and I have thoughts, greedy scheming cackling and cunning figures that torment me yet are children of my anatomy. And I cannot stop them for they are chemical beings. The guards of my vaults turned to dust running rampid through my neurological waves transmitting.
It is easier to lie than say these things kept me up all night. Than to say I have a better friend in my ceiling and in my bed then I do with sad cathartic feelings in my head.
It is silent and I stare.
There is a lamp in the distance and it's glow feeds hope thin as a spiderweb to my conscious constant despair. As the hours pass and I become vengeful my fight between becoming more and less aware.
The unified splits and divides it pulls and separates, hemispheres left and right creating two alternative sides of me. There's one militant that says get up and one that just says no.
No because it is afraid, no because it is sorry, no because it has obeyed the skewed perception that it is guilty. She is scared, she is stained with ideas that do not match her character but she clings to them because they have clung to her and truth is a steady companion but her truth was not right.
The other half is the anger yelling "why the hell are you like this?" and " Life gets so much better, think of all the things you're going to miss." Or accusing her of being meek and frail for attention, slapping her face, pressing knuckles into her heart, she is strong with her air of condescension. Yet she is the little self love her mass can contain. Her motivation is harsh but it holds the other as it sobs cooing and assuring "it's okay".
It's easier to sleep all day and not deal with any of this than have to explain it to you when you ask. Majority of the time I am met with knives not of verbal speech but of ignorance, inept hands and averted eyes.
It's easier to put on a face and say it was just one time than have you walk past my tear stained cheeks refusing to offer comfort as I anticipate the night. You know yet you do nothing so I would rather keep you unaware.
Than tell you I'm depressed so when you let me down the blame is mine to bear.

I want to be the graduating
class
of we ******* made it

despite the trials and tribulations
I want to scream and throw up my cap
say that was well worth it

that those endless all nighters
the coffee *** on
my walk to class iPod on
blast songs

of inspiration
of that serious dedication
stacks of books and notes
post its and reminders

binders
spiral bound
college ruled

schooled on all
walks of life
on all types of wrong and right

all the mistakes I want to erase
and refunds for the W's and F's
what's left?
but to tell myself it's all ok.

black and blue bics
papers double spaced
**** it I want to be the best I can be

class of the underdogs
the freaks the ones who thought they'd never make it

the class of we *******
we made it.

call me autumn
i'll be the giant pile of crunchy red-brown leaves for you to jump in
i'll be the ugly sweater you love so much that you pull out on the first cold day
i'll be the pumpkin that you dredge out the insides of and carve a jack-o-lantern face on

call me winter
i'll be the christmas morning that greets you with a heap of presents under a twinkling tree
i'll be the warm cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows after you come in from the snow
i'll be the groundhog that assures you there will be an early spring to end your wintertime blues

call me spring
i'll be the umbrella you dig out of your trunk that keeps you dry in the unexpected storm
i'll be the large cup of coffee that stays up with you through all-nighters before finals
i'll be the first flower you see in bloom after a long and cold winter

call me summer
i'll be the rays of sunshine that tan your flawless skin
i'll be the cold shower you take cause that ****** air conditioner is broken again
i'll be the hammock that you lay on as you stargaze and think about all the galaxies that stream above

Echoes from the past
Memories that will forever last
And as I remember, the sun shines a little brighter
Nostalgic all nighters

The tick of the clock awakens me
Time is moving on
Pressing play on the same radio
But i’m hearing different songs
Those days are far, far gone
Oh sweet, sweet pain

Waking up when others, brothers and sisters,
finish the day, they go to bar, then the bus
mingle in the crowded fuss or get in their cars,
                            to go home slowly if it is far.

Alarm goes off, the
house to yourself,
sit in your ******, watching the news,
what you missed while you slept,
eat and dress, not in that order, as you
update your status, make your bed and the
bumpy mattress, pack your late night meal
ready, set as you go to your job on the border.

The patient drive, and you are not in that rush.

The hours nobody wants resemble people,
that nobody want to get near,
move through dark of shadowed hopes,

motives are suspect, call them creeple,
yes,
both the hours that move so slow,
and the bodies that hide, but can't diguise their intent.

You dictate the night, look left and right,
as people in a slowing stream return home,
their treasures packed away, receipts in hand,
passport ready for your command, to hand
it over.

There are those that "went for the drive, or to get a tank of gas"

Every one that passes though your gate,
despite the hour being late, smiles broadly,
as if to say,
nothing here to declare
go about your shift, oddly, questions
you do and ask these, late nighters to drive in
open the trunk, show you the receipts and
if they are in luck, they told the truth,
but
when they got to pay, they got to stay,
unhappiness empties their wallet,
then those three guys with mullets,
dare you to show them your gun; their laughter is like rusted metal lids, turning on a glass jar,
you being Canadian, don't have a gun.

You can still wish.

The night ends uneventful, your eyes
see the sun and know your day is done,
you will be home maybe to bed,
maybe stay awake, a chance you'll
given, you have four days off.

Night shift will ruin you later in life,
when those in the home will be able to
rest, you will be awake, no matter
what meds they make you take from the platter.

When the dark shadows close in, you have a job to do,
but where?, while
you won't
remember how or who.

Dear mom and dad, colleges been a whirl.
all nighters are common and I eat too much ramen but Ive kept off the freshman fifteen.
My friends pierced my ears and dad I'll out drink you with beers. But frat boys can be quite mean.
I took the car for a few trips outta state with my friends but I filled up the gas and didn't once crash.
I have a tattoo I haven't shown you. I really miss my old bed.
My friends got us a fish but that was a miss.
Then I broke my finger but the pain didn't linger.
I did get corona but after tacoma.
I kissed a few boys and made too much noise, but I did get to dance in the rain.
I showed my friend his first snow and watched my plant grow.

And although midterms made me cry, I got to watch the sky go from blue to pink with a friend

I'm just hoping it won't all end.