torn jeans
dimples
station wagons
shifting eyebrows
eager hands

wry smiles
chapped lips
cheap beer
deep-set eyes
pirated music

hates his birthday
stoplight-kisses
star-gazing in cornfields
****** knuckles
broken minds

lanky limbs
poetry books
scruffy faces
jet-black coffee
calloused hands that still feel soft

adventurer's heart
jumping fences
midnight tokes
always gives you hickeys
always opens your door

worn sneakers
chewed pen caps
late for work
old windbreakers
dirt under his fingernails

omniscient smirks
expensive cologne
good intentions -
but is bad with goodbyes
hates himself for making you cry

broken cigarettes
aviator shades at night
a perpetually furrowed brow
and a laugh that sounds like autumn leaves as they crunch beneath your feet

m.f.

My stance on infections can sometimes be a bit overzealous, well...
because I’m searching for that country live wire.

I want u @ 1030am on an early fall morning in some desolate forest
park.

Windbreakers and kisses

I’m never quite sure which activity I prefer at a fashion show - spending time backstage or watching the actual show.

Watching a beautiful show is a wonderful, sometimes even uplifting experience but being where all the action is, being able to get up close and personal with all the looks and different pieces, it really does get my adrenaline juices flowing.

At Paris Men’s Fashion Week, I was invited backstage by Mac Cosmetics to two brilliant and colourful shows - Kenzo and Paul Smith.

At Kenzo, both women and men collections were presented, the men’s was the standard spring/summer 2017 collection whilst the women’s was the pre-collection.

The general feel of both collections was a 90s throwback nightlife experience with lots of colourful, eclectic designs. The vibe really did hark back to those 90s clubbing days - the same style of clothes one wore out partying with their friends back then.

Think windbreakers, hoodies, biker jackets, baggy pants and visible male underwear pieces all mixed in with some super bright details. The palette as a general theme was bright but not overly bright - it was a mix of bright blues and greens mixed in with greys and whites and acid yellow but then there were bright details.

There were, for instance, glittery bright pink platform boots and matching little bags which were definite eye catchers. Eye motifs have become an iconic symbol of Kenzo and in fact eyes were once again worked into these pieces - a long-lashed version.

The makeup look for the men by Mac Cosmetics was kept clean and **** but with some shine used to exemplify the out-all-night partying vibe.

The women’s look was an ultra bright look with one look based around bright green and the other bright cyan blue. Again, the party-all-night vibe was present here too.

At Paul Smith, true to his nature, bright colours reigned supreme in his collection which felt like a harmony of retro and bohemian inspirations. Clubbing was a source of inspiration here too but this time the 1960s decade.

Candy stripe shirts, sportswear-themed bright tops and bright striped socks and shoes were all there. This was mixed perfectly with some more conservative, tailored suits.

Backstage, the happy mood was infectious with models dancing along to Bob Marley and the entire team carrying a big smile on their faces as they prepared for the show.

The makeup team again by Mac Cosmetics had an energetic and happy team whose main focus was on getting the male models catwalk and camera ready but without the makeup being in any way obvious.

As one of the makeup artists mentioned, it takes skill to make makeup appear invisible. There was also quite a range of different skin tones present across the different models although curly hair seemed to have been quite a priority during the model selection process.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

go anywhere but to the movies.
show up to a party,
sip ***** in the kitchen,
at midnight let lips rest for an instant
                           --then draw back.

the boy in biology class
has wild curly hair
                           --be careful.

when lips brush against cheeks
                           --tremble.
when pale timid fingers trace spines
                            --sway.

never stray too far from home.
never sacrifice anything
but once
make a journey.
turn away from civilization.

shake the sweaty hand of a bald, tan man
wearing sunglasses,

claw through the huddled masses,
yearning to breathe free,

step out
onto the cool gray platform.
feel awkward in your brown leather
jacket amongst black windbreakers,
lean back against the rumbling doors,
search drawn,
blank faces for reactions.
find nothing.

exit on the wrong end, the far end.

do not to walk on the left side of the street
-- that’s where the bad **** happens.

do not to look anyone in the eye.

do not think.

if you must think, think only
about lips and brown eyes and star-shaped sunglasses.

look around and realize
that this elevator's button don’t light up anymore,
and the number thirteen has been scratched out by someone’s keys.

let your footsteps echo against tile floors.

let your eyes catch,
briefly.

and inhale deeply
because you like the smell of his deodorant,

just this once.

Merry go-rounds
Twirl around the sky
Shut down ice-cream posts and
Repressed flower petals
Crisscrossed hands and
Popsicle sticks
Loitering the salt-stained pavement
Glints of late-night squares in
Skyscrapers which brush the clouds
The crunch of diseased leaves and the
Distant honks and whistles
In chaotic, zig-zag traffic
Snow falls silently
Its fingertips landing on
Windbreakers and cotton mittens
Of children
With red cheeks and
Exasperated smiles
Chasing after frozen-pond ducks
With tongues extended and catch
Soft white water
Winter dampens the sidewalk cracks
And chills the abandoned earmuffs
But winter will not
And can not
Dampen or
Freeze or
Abandon the spirits

Northwest autumn turns to winter
Damp leaves, slipping on uneven ground.

That is, of course, the rain.

Under this criticism
the red orange yellows
behind the backdrop of electric
blue,
wet eyes, wet face, wet hair
and a suspicious swagger
over boots and coats and windbreakers.

The winter comes,
defeat of the sun
for a charcoal blanket
and a slip fall break
of twigs caught in the spokes.

When no one was home
I was with myself.

But now that you guys are back
I'm home alone

You guys chattered amongst each other
As if I was only an element of wind

My element bothers both of you
So you guys strap yourself in windbreakers that keep me out

My body is invisible but my wind is strong
So you trudge through me but all I do is stand still

I have to remind myself that I've never felt light before
That I am physical with heavy emotions.

I have to remind myself that I am no bad guy scraping
Faces with my overbearing breezes.

I am warm. I am a garden. I am body of flowers. Blooming
I have to remember to water myself.

I have to remember to water myself

When I was a sophomore I was convinced I had ADD
I would sit in Biology and burn holes in the teachers head with my focusing eyes
But inevitably my mind shifted like a car put in neutral
And rolled away
And when I noticed I always tried to shift back but I became so focused on putting my mind back into gear that I always missed what the teacher was trying to tell me
I took these concerns to my doctor who sent me to the woman with the magnifying glass to peer into my brain and discover why it wasn't functioning properly
To give me the right kind of medicine
But She didn't show me the broken gear shift of a person whose mind flits from thought to flower like a butterfly
Instead she showed me the lead jacket that is my depression
The jacket wasn't heavy enough to lift off with a mechanical crane of antidepressants
So this woman promised to teach me to take it off in my own
But my jacket was strong like bungee cords,
And when I thought I took off my jacket
It snapped back to me, pulling itself on my shoulders
And tightening itself on my ribs until it hurt to breathe
And people tried to help me take it off but I was so angry
So irrationally angry because the jackets on their shoulders were more like windbreakers, they were there but they didn’t really seem to affect anything
And  I wouldn't let myself take off the jacket
If they could hold their own
So could I
And so I covered it with a colorful poncho,
I faked happiness
I Pushed my lips up like a bodybuilder benching his maximum weight
with his arms trembling and back arching
I smiled and I did it so well that people didn't notice the sloping of my shoulders or the way I dropped into chairs shaking with effort and crumpling like paper
And what almost killed me
Made me weaker
I was afraid to be by myself
That the pain would be too much and
That since it hurt so much to breathe I might decide to stop breathing all together
there would be days that my legs would hurt too much to stand
so I would have to lay down in the shower letting the
water push away the pain
There would be days when the jacket turned into a blanket in my mind
It was always hardest to be around people those days  
Those days when my skin burned blue
and as much as I caked on makeup to cover it
I wondered why no one cared enough to wipe it away
I let my mind convince me that my acting skills weren’t that good
That no one noticed because no one cared
But that was a lie
I’m still wearing my jacket and it would be foolish to pretend that its
Easy for me to take off,
But with my community around me,
I don’t need a lighter jacket, because I have stronger shoulders

It’s dark outside, I wonder if someone’s trying to get in
I’m hungry, but I already had my allotted calories for the day
Should I throw away that ****** tissue?
I wonder if he thinks I look pretty today
Windbreakers make me look dope
I wonder if she heard that I told her to f* off
Am I a *******?
Don’t kiss me yet
I don’t like my thighs
My teeth aren’t white enough
I shouldn’t eat this
Strawberries are only good on some days
Orange ***** unless it’s in a sunset
Aww
That tree would be sufficient for a hanging
I dream of his musty scent
God is real, but heaven is not
Shut up
Shut the f* up
I think I’ll stop eating and turn into a skeleton
I should create my own country in my room that America can’t imperialize
Nuclear reactor cores are so fascinating
I have the urge to watch bad things
***** social media
My mood is decaying like Chernobyl
I ache for the sting of a blade
Sometimes I see a demon when I look in the mirror
I’m scared of the dark
Latin is a cool language
What if he wants to cheat on me sometimes because I ****?
Dolla dolla bill y’all
Well I hate my body
It’s too hot in this room
Today was a success
Why don’t you go **** a carrot?
Keep smiling, it makes you look great
Yes, if under a certain circumstance with the opportunity, I’d remove myself from this world
Man I feel just like a rockstar
If I don’t like how my body looks so much, why don’t I ever do anything to fix it?
My fish is going to die
I haven’t been home alone in a long time
I need to quit soda
Novi (I learned)
Maybe if I cut it, I don’t have to see it for what it really is
I wonder how I can make myself throw up
I tried, it didn’t work
I swear I’m not bulimic
Am I happy?
Is this a false sense of happiness?
Am I on drugs?

1’ve been searching
In thrift stores and on eBay
For the kinds of windbreakers that were cool when I was
Little

I get to wear them now
And I know how

I pierced my ear a few years ago.
I did it myself with a hollow point needle
Slowly
But deliberately

And it was good.

I wear an earring everyday
To remind myself that I’m not
Dead
Yet. And it was something I wanted to do but never got around to it.

I’ve been
Making sure that I never stop
Growing.

I wilt like nothing  you’ve ever seen
In stagnation.

But I think the dog spit out her medicine tonight

I found it on the old hardwood
With tongue worn uncertainty

No dose must be better
Than double dose

With a custody so
Precious.

So I will hope she rests safely
Through the
Soft
Night.

And the late dinner can of minestrone in my
Grandmother’s last sauce ***
Smells like a lost thought of
Home

Home is
Something
I’ve been working very hard to
Dial-in.


My love
Is a pine-green toaster covered in
Crumbs.


And you
Are the bread I tried to bake from
Scratch
But I forgot to feed the wild yeast starter and landed with
Mold.

This time,
I will give
Thanks
To each pea and
Carrot
In my
Broth