every time i chew away
at my fingernails, my hands
break beneath the weight
of the blood spilt inside of these lips
they just couldn't bear the sight of open wounds
the body count, stitched into my gums
bullets aching inside my clenched teeth
there is war in my footfalls
anger in my love

it's hard to touch someone who reminds you
not to walk alone at night
and to always add laughter to a tight lipped smile, just to get along
i never wanted to be a martyr
the same way philomena never meant
to suffer because she is a bad liar
and all he sees is a noose on a ******
that is to say suffering, comes to the ones with stone cold tongues
and all that really means is love me

so diocletian subjected young philomena
to scourgings, she survived
drowning, she was too good at holding her breath
arrows, they went right through her
and then decapitation
there's no coming back from that one
secretly he simply loved
to see her in pain
she refused to eat her words as she praised him
she just refused to eat her words
so she never praised him

when we are young
we try to kiss our classmates
not knowing the consequence

i knew you were unhealthy for me
but i did it anyways

the only good thing you ever did
was cut me loose

i had a dream you took me back
i never wanted that

she wanted to be
a killer bee
so she honeyed up servant girls
and placed them under
the fruit trees
but upon severing the stinger
a bee loses it's lust
so she left them to the bugs
and took on a bigger love
for pins and needles
and fingernails and a pale face
laced with pain
when they scream she shivers and asks
them to say her name again
when she was still young
her husband taught her necks break
if you bend them back fast enough
eyes go blind if you cut them
crisply across the iris
peasants can go missing and
no one will ever know
god help the ruthless mistakes
nobility makes
dorian gray in her mirror today
****** erzebet kissed the servant girls
like jeffrey's boy with the hole in his skull
she must have looked beautiful
in the moonlight coming through
the dungeon grates
and they finally found out
bricked over the windows
left a slit for food
minotaur in his maze
she thought she'd show off
for her funeral
but she is alone
the bodies decay
now she is a killer bee
in a cage

"I'm sorry for being imperfect...I was born this way...there's nothing I can do about it but it doesn't matter cause i'm perfect in God's eyes."

i recall the perfect sounding pinpoint on a map
a theme park and a wonderful family
the aching cavities of cotton candy
a rollercoaster in the gut
and a mother who cares too much
and the problem of being a child who is always
fading out and pulsing with the lust of being almost free
running towards the exit eternally

and i remember jesus in the golden plastic picture frame
the silicone watches your daughters wore
and the pieces of polly pockets wedged into the carpeting
you blushed when i told my mother i found a tick on my arm
after playing dress up in your daughter's room
not everything holy is blessed
not everything unsaid is innocent
the sun and god are no better than a shepard

when they cover me
White sheet on face
Earth burying box

dance on my grave.

i want every child
at my funeral
to dig their hands
into my soil

take a part of me again
broken so you can live
let me hold you

love me like
The fall
when it comes

i am the roots
you are the leaves

i don't wish you happy birthday
i'm sure it will be anyways
i half heartedly hope
it isn't

if you could hold me in
like burning dawn
on the tips of fall mornings
i would scratch our names
into my bark

i would lean over children
that looked like you, baby
sew my leaves to their jackets
so they would always smell
like fresh dew on a misty morning

water my roots and trim
the thorn bushes i've collected
a dress swathing hips
that are barer than deserts

and if i sing this song now
would you come to me in honest
or like schoolyard jokes
will you kiss my fingers only in jest
i'm a simple plant i need only
sunshine and damp dirt

bare bones lapping up nutrients
a stolen kiss over dinner
a bath that is not lonely
a hand to be held
on afternoons in the city
two people staring in rapture at each other
in the black subway windows