Teen angst poetry
dribbled in red pen.
Well, ideally.
I only have black type.

In fact, I never have experienced
teen angst. I only have
the perpetual piece of blackandred
corners me alone

The beast beneath my bed ceases
whenever daddy checks
but I never had a daddy
only a mommy valiantly battling the
blackandred demons her daddy
never scared away either.

and in the
end we feel nothing nothing can
touch us. We are the empty rusty
pail crying out from the Dripdripdrip of
our loneliness because no one comes in
because, in the foggy glass, no one can see each other
and coldandclammy jostling elbows
do Not touch- NeverNever

We hope the redhot heart of the
lovers we hold so closely will defrost
our windshields to the world and let in
Lightlovehopejoyhappiness
Contentment

AND THEN
I have hope enough
that the monsterinmycloset
cannot grip my dangling elbow. Hope that the steep
fall of bladeandblood and littleroundpills
Always stays a few feet away

I call and pray for stray sunbeams.

Later- I pull
out the quicksilver shards of glass
from my eyes and under my polluted
fingernails.
I shrug off their sodden coats.
I won't borrow burdens. Anymore.
So that my light may shine encore
Abeaconpillar of radiance
Est deus in nobis

You're my candy. The sugar is always good,
I must be a diabetic, I need it.
But I am the Redhot tongue, in your mouth
That can supply a kiss, like no other.
This is our book, I'll write it,
You'll have to let the pictures turn.
I go too fast for most.

This has always been an issue.
I express myself.
I'll never admit how I feel, first
Not in person at least.
I know if I do, I might not love it.
The end result might not be perfect.
So I'll jot it down, and kick my feet up,
on your lap.
You'll have no idea what's on my mind.
As I feel burned
Set me on fire, and leave me for ashes.

You're my pill. I'll take you once a week.
At least. It's enough to get by.

The walls are painted.
The grass is cut.
The house is clean.
And you.. you are Malcolm
In the middle of it all.
But me?
I am on the other side.
I didn't go there on my own.
I was born there.
It was fate.

Your wants and my needs.
Is where it all breaks down too.
Whisper to me - in my ear,
Tell me you give in.
You want it all.
I want a wife, without the ring.
So I'll just laugh it off
and tell you, you need more seasoning
To be my last meal.
I want well done, and you're rare.
Sorry.

You can claim everything when I leave,
Most will be lies anyways.
But grip onto them, like prized possessions.
It'll be the first aid to your self worth.

Remember that time I forgot tell you something?
I might've looked around, for a new toy.
I  think they call it window shopping..
But I never touched the packaging.
Does that make you full of anger?

A woman will always mix up truth for lies
Even as it lies, right in front of her.
Waiting for a push, to a point
Even if that point isn't sharp enough
To prove anything.

You could ride along beside me
and say those three words that break
a romantic down, and make you his.
But I'll never again,
Take that left turn first.
Not after the first accident.
No insurance company,
Could EVER cover that.

I won't step on those brakes at this point,
I'm going too fast, and it's fragile.  
I'd rather have it snap in half
And ricochet off my soul.

I've had my fair share of troubles,
and heart ache,
Thanks to this history of mine.
It was the sign before the dead end

So...

Thank you.
But for you, misery
This is the end.

Frank’s RedHot sauce
the duct tape of food

purse your lips for sour stinging kisses like lemons left too long in the sun,
homemade lemonade without enough sugar,
just the coating of gummy worms burning your tongue with redhot sweetness.
surround yourself not just with gold but yellow,
like the sun
like the lemon peel
like star trek command uniforms (original series, captain kirk loyalty)
like daffodils and sunflowers faces turned up on the prairie
like bright, obnoxious, bumbling, highlighter yellow,
satiate your sweet tooth with speckles of summers past, bright spots in the memory bank.
purse your lips for sour stinging kisses like honeybees in chapstick.

out of the hearth of hearts
emotion has been fletched,
malleable redhot soul sprite sparks
and sings with the strike of the beat,
meaning nothing more than touch but
collisions bring us closer,
I guess we’re just
impactful :
two flights defeathered
combined by common ground,
given wings entwined-
two ores in bated bind,
love alligned and nocked
the very fingertips that made us
holds the rest of our destiny cocked

i have to control the
redhot rage coursing through my veins,
all because
a few short words leaked out of your mouth.
why does it matter
how much you yearn to touch me
if i am not comfortable?
why do you have any right to dictate
my decisions,
about my body,
just because it’s been so long
since you’ve tasted anyone?
don’t tell me you care about my feelings,
don’t tell me you just want me to be comfortable,
if you really cared
you would give me all the time i need.