hacker

disinfectant, sanitation
both smell sweet like sugar.

he smells sweet the way gingerbread does
if you catch my drift.

the moon's a glowing petal-ball
the clouds hide it
but i eat it anyway.

it feels like i'm missing something
but the truth is
i'm incapable of love.

synapses aren't connecting in my brain
and you're the key
FUCK FUCK FUCK
i need more blood,
this thirst is killing me.
pressure lost, the flow dies soon after
i don't know you, but
i need your lips to touch mine
i need our chests to touch, where the heart lies
where the heart lies.
my blue skin stretched across sharp ribs
and my inner hunger for you growls
grows, boils
takes over and my common sense and defense
flee in catastrophe.
i just need you, don't be afraid.

often times
i think my brain is out to
destroy me.

i can never wake up

sleep waking

my fatigue cycles endlessly like time
the weather, too, repeats.
the same monologue, the same scene.
a frightening prospect; perpetual time
unsure, a foreshadowing storm

what is it that consumes me?
that hinders my satisfaction
my trust or ability
to open up.
i'm so fragile and
no one even knows it.
my cranial chemistry is broken
attraction files burned and destroyed

this is a message to you
a broadcast for a 2 mile radius:
don't get your emotion strings attached
i don't have ventricles for you
to tie them to.

he's a tangible individual
how mind blowing!

have patience with me

standing at the precipice
it's a mental dock
i fall face first
into the ocean of
doubts and overactive heart byproducts.
like paper falling
i curl back and forth
endlessly, gracefully
to the murky bottom
the climate matched perfectly with personality
and i can sit lotus and never break to breathe
the surface is just glistening hope, unreachable
a fisher's net of christmas lights
the sun's refraction on salt crystals.
when i reach towards it
i'm reaching towards the sun (indirectly)
my stretching body a javelin,
my torso a bird's feather or a
serrated knife
i want it so bad but my lotus keeps me grounded
my body can't decide whether to uncurl or
lie flat.

pure fucking beauty

his eyelashes, petrified flames
licking just beneath the brow;
crystalline soldiers standing at attention;
tongue twistingly-sweet rock candy
amber towers, ashy pillars
they've already crushed me

element

wintertime.
can't remember the last time
i wasn't wearing this coat
it smells divine:
sweet with smoke

electronic music makes me
homesick
but also
you-sick

REM

my heart swells
and pumps a fresh gush of blood
rushing past my ears
it's the sound of cities crumbling.

the candle top,
it's milky aluminum.
the cigarette's cherry
glows bright, dim
bright, dim
almost like the beating of a heart
and its reflection,
though softened
glows heartily among the ashes
the orange-red tethering me to earth.

the window's open and it's wintertime.
temp in the twenties
but all i feel is warmth
the incense burn has my third eye tingling
and all the tea light candles;
a dewy glow in the unfocused background

never more relaxed, more at home.
i saw you and fire lit my eyes
a tether binds our fates

water intake

i feel like i should be crucified
without the nails
while my heart is sacrificed

i feel like there's
fairy dust beneath my feet
keeping me afloat

nothing will work out

the past is beyond comprehension
useless
intangible
something you can never visit.

and the future
impossible to predict

so why would anyone live in anything
but the present?

this is the stress house
every nerve quakes with fear
blood vessels burst and
i can just hear the clock,
tick-tock of an aneurysm
and every voice is barking anger
no wonder why it's fear number one

his very being
casts me under the spell of
cardiomyopathy
and its so sweet, its sickening
yet
devastating, infuriating
for i have no trust
no hope
and nausea for the deals.

attraction
gravitational pull towards it.
you shun it.

geryon

clarity, now.
it's not my desire to fix something
not my main objective, at least.
it's a desire
to be there for someone
while they are suffering
to assure them they aren't alone
to provide soothing, physical contact
in hopes it will make them feel better.

in other news
i'm weighed down
cowering under this dense and bloated
weathercloud
overflowing with an emotion i can't
understand or name.
i ponder on the thought:
should i purse it?
while my defenses attack it
rip it to shreds
bury it and
i tell myself to forget about it.

because i know
for a fact
that it's just going to rain on me.

cats

no wonder why i grew up
to be so fucked up

disenchanted

he is my winter
and i am his summer.
the scent of the carcinogen smoke
makes my heart pull my soul
by the hand
away from my body
and i am spliced into two opposing human beings.
i can close my eyes
and picture perfect
all peach and red,
there he stands.
i have never felt something so strongly
in my life.

slain

i don't get it
stunned;
all my muscle tone
or skeletal stability
simply melts
and i roll back
head hanging backwards over the chair
84 bpm
i giggle and it sounds like insanity.

--

today i'll have to
rip apart my entire
face
claw my nails to simulate stability
my fingers as puppet strings
my face is hollow like a marionette
thin undereyes almost gray
sickly, at least
vein ridden.
i need to hold onto something
to stay awake
my hair roots prove good company,
emit pheromones and heighten
outer appearances.

I rode home leisurely
first just reveling in the
feeling of floating
as i drifted through the thin air
across the pavement.
the feeling, not new but
certainly improved,
almost alien,
was confusing, frightening
but pleasing.

i pass the meadow
where the warm, golden sun
called out to my daydreams this morning.
and i yearn for it as it
begs for my contact.

the rapid descent down the hill
i gather the feeling.
an uplifting tingling in my core
and coupled with
high speeds, fierce winds and
f a l l i n g,
the joyride bathed me in
so much ecstasy that it
hid this strange emotion.

and i've never seen such a strange sight
as when the low gear truck
carried its counterpart atop its back
while the schizophrenic sunlight
makes life seem unreal, like a dream
and that's how the afterlife is perceived.

300

exhausted and
constantly, constantly
spiraling.
multitudes of emotion
one decisions then the next;
opposites.
cranial shut down
the mandible still workable
the brain a stringy bubblegum mess.
beer that smells like bread
it's homely and sweet on your taste buds
but you caress it like a time bomb.
up and down
never sure of anything
never motivated or ground breaking

i've got a lot to say
it just never makes it past
cherry red, irritated
chapped and searing lips
from acidic, salty moisture replacement.

constant, growing mind
infinite learning
infinitely spacious and
expandable.
it evolves everyday
and tonight burns alight
centered corneal
it melts from such intense dismay.

lost all
trust

nothing should be cognitive

the violent are blasting
fastly disappearing nature-space
across the street for useless capitalist homing
while black and mild smoke pours from my lungs
in a cold humidified atmosphere

i've got two bodies radiating
masculinity
distally, medially
they both equally break of
little pieces of my heart and
consume them

breaking down a single pillar
their humanity's in a blender
and i care but cannot stop

i just want to break down too:
bed all day with ruffled sheets
minimal clothing
smoke bellowing from
clean, virgin lungs.
space cadet badge, fair skin and
clear complexion.
mellow every vein and face muscle
become one with the surroundings,
the people you're surrounding

you have glory ahead of you
a long eventful road
and your heart races, sings and rises
with the prospect.

painful compassion

metal ceramic paint,
coffee mug burn on my
mount of apollo
very real and almost blistering
i invite a kiss to better it.

and today,
sticky glue
melted chemicals, searing hot
a small coverage of my
jupiter finger
it reddens and stings
and my offer still stands

now, i fabricate a lie
of how boiling morning liquid
pained my monochrome lips
and a smirk that would hurt otherwise
that speaks in devil-tongues
for a healing
mouth to mouth kiss

his laugh pleases all of the senses
sight; saran wrap eyes
scent; solstice gum
touch; cracking through my sternum to my heart (emotional)
taste; mouthwatering
sound; weak, sputtering like an overturning engine, soft
and all around absofuckinglutely beautiful

the present

crunchy golden skin
fried and seasoned
free of imperfections from a
artificial periosteum.

the sky will fall tonight
tiny pendulum prisms
streaks across the sky
otherworldly wonders
tiny wishes

completely freed from my chains

spinal nerve roots
its trunk is fibrous
and it branches off
grounding itself like a tree
to transverse processes
its poison ivy vines
snaking down your stem
its veins decorating your vertebra

his voice is melting brown sugar
rough but soothing
and cheek wrinkling from its sweetness
it could spit out anything and you'd
listen, believe it
and this is dangerous but completely
wondrous.

no here

it's funny how
tresses of dead, outstretched epithelium,
keratinized
can determine social status
aesthetic quality or
reproduction capabilities
by its flaunting, manipulation or
scent.

peaking;
the topmost euphoria of any
trip
the hill's clean air
smelled like the ocean
but miraculously, nowhere near one.

lightning bolt flash;
each flint-inspired combustion
lights the scene for only a second
illuminating each beauty in red
and it's picturesque, historical
and heart warming.

my life comes in fragments
and only the beautiful can be
documented
but those are the only film strips i
wish to remember
for all the others are
ugly, tattered
and infectious.

box

so this is
le niveau le plus bas.
i lay back and it's
cold, beautiful
the blood rushes to my head and this is
euphoria.
i am so trapped.

house paint
stained skin
lead poisoning

destroyed

i feel used.
used up, worn out.
i am deteriorating.
i am toxic, i am a disease.
i just want to waste away.
sometimes normal, but
underneath it all i'm just
suffering.
i hope his thoughts
don't breed laughter and
do not lower me.
even after all this time
i cannot make it through.
it's utter devastation but
also seething rage that consumes
my entire life and it is
just
not
fair.
i love purely,
open-endedly and fully
and this is why i get in return
this is what i
deserve?
now my brain, off kilter
will never let this happen again,
shuts down, reboots, goes haywire.
i want and want and want,
browse like window shopping and
touch with dirty hands, smudging fingerprints,
pathetically,
but any touch or inclination
sends me writhing in pain and disgust.
as if
i desire, and desire to be desired
but the act of being desired offends me.
if you're a male,
stay the fuck away from me.
all i can do is hurt you and crush
all your hope away. and i,
i cannot befriend anyone
for all i'm capable of becoming
is
disappointed.

6months to the day

i
orbit around him in
order to
observe his tendencies
determine his
disposition and
calculate his
character
as my interests
as photosynthesis
blossom.

i got it back

reality is painful.
i can live half-asleep
in my fabricated memory,
happily.
i pretend it's all the same and bury the hurt
but substance appears
sharp and loud
and steals me from my
reverie
into the conscious real world.

having too many thoughts is my
one flaw
and lately they've been devouring my brain
-a hole the size of my heart
-a hole the size of his head
but it's not thoughts of him
that butcher your mind
but philosophies unexplained.

light burns my retina
and when my eyes roll backward from fatigue
i see the moon.

october destroys my comfortable
outer-shell of joy
and leaves my honest insides exposed.
they're raw and desecrated,
depressed
a sorry mess
humiliating and ugly
and i am exposed as how i truly feel.
october, it's where my love lies, but
it's so cold
unforgiving
and strips me of any hope of feeling
happy or normal.
(but the fire-trees and golden sun
fill my torso cavity with beauty
and i feel like crying,
so full with pressure)

i've been deprived
so long
and now it's all flooding
back to me.
i can feel it tingle in my
fingertips
100 tiny diamonds
vibrating beneath my skin
their sharp edges pierce from the inside,
out.
microscopic blood seeps from pierced pores
and my creativity smears as words on the page.
i truly believe my veins pump ink
and my skin is
made of paper.
i lacerate my own integument to check
and arrive disappointed.
but it regenerates my outer-shell
:evolutionary-metaphoric-science:

dating is a disgusting culturalized ritual

death

i need someone to hold
so that i wont be so afraid
of slipping away

boy, was i mistaken

heureuse sans toi

vile, putrid
shit show, scumbag
shit-headed loser.
no one even
sparks up about you,
none of their hearts warm
at the thought of you,
at least anymore.
not even the mutant you pursue,
and this is why you're named
as previously stated.

i should
get off my high horse, but
nothing's gone wrong
as of yet
but everything is promising to be
the best it ever was.
i've got three pending targets
while one blips on the radar.
this week ends and my homestead beings
the nostalgia will hit full force
and a blanket of love will keep me warm
while the night drops below zero.
the next week will end
with an event i'll never forget
and each day in between
and each day subsequent
will leave me with pinched corners
tickling my cheeks
and full breath in my lungs
as i breathe life.

happy

‘When you kill someone,
a little part of yourself dies.’

how i feel, sometimes.
i destroyed who he
originally was
and now in his place is
something drastic and
horrible.
maybe it's his own
personality flaws but
i look at him now and see
someone else.
it sickens me to even think about it,
because it feels like
the past two years of my life
were a waste.
sometimes, i beg for things to
reverse, go back to normal
to when everything was easy and
predictable.
but often i can sit back and
smile
because my life is much better now
and i am so much happier...:

my newfound scent blows back at me
and my legs burn fierce
in an act that hasn't occurred
in what seems like forever.
the top of Beech Hill
smells like Deb's car,
familiarity.
lately, my bag is filled with
dunkin donuts wrappers
and safety glasses.
it's my "new normal".
it's not the way i wish things were
but it makes me happy
regardless.

i really am ok,
except for two degrading events;
when his figure appears before my eyes
and when i'm stuck with thoughts
late at night, eyes closed.
at least i'm much better than i was before
and i no longer need him in
any way.
sometimes, i wish we could be friends
but, i fear, still, i would not be able
to handle it.
and maybe that's ok because
who he is now disgusts me and
deserves the label:
scumbag.

keys

spring 2009,
i haven't breathed since
and neither has nature
for the warmth and wonder
died early this year.

perfect description

"i'm lost"

come find me.

poetry slowly dwindled away

24 hour reset.
my chest quaked
and contracted with such intensities that i
for a second, thought it was
tetanus.
time passes slower than it
seems.
still,
my biological clock has
filled to a point where it should
empty its parts into my open palm.
i enjoy the adventures
lust has taken me on but,
at times it covers my skin
in a thin, imagined sheet of dirt
and i wonder if he'll shudder at the
thought.
i can't even think about touching lips
after his tirade with her but,
i suppose i shouldn't worry
because he'll never accept this faulty
wiring back.
he's so good at ignoring my existence that
i don't believe he ever
gives me a thought
even when my scents and skin particles
swirl in spirals above his mouth.
then again
it turns out i'm easily
ignorable
for the third time, now.
i've got a three course meal
awaiting my consumption, but
i'm still full from the hors d'oeuvres
and my thoughts are beginning to become
foreign to even myself.
near the end of next month will be
the half-year mark
and i can't even believe it.
because i still feel like half a person
i still can't recognize myself
in the mirror, because it's just me.
losing yourself, you take on
the personalities of those around you
until you've forgotten who you were
and you don't even know yourself.
so many questions still unanswered
but it's too late now and
my body is done with arguing.

and after all this time
i don't even know who you
are.

here we go again

the man looked very
canine
as his lips peeled away from his teeth
to reveal a sharp smile.

my fatigue rains so hard that my
vision skips
like
self-induced bliss.
the more iron,
the more opposite the
effect.

every time you sit back and
sigh,
smile and agree with your innards,
that you're happy,
a turnstile smashes into your mood
and spins it upside down.

what do i want?
familiarity or joy.
certain catastrophe or
thoughts of what
could be.

who is you

every embarrassment
ill-feeling
secret or mistake
can still lead to longing,
but why?
staring too particularly
at least today
and it's all over.
(the end or completely throughout?)
eye contact.
you stare back at
your speaker
but see his eyes trace back
if only for a second.
he must have been looking
in order to catch
or was it just
coincidence?

this is never ending
and today,
that makes you smile.

anatomy

obicularis oris quivering
simply, my lips
the lightest sweeping
motions
like a broom-whipped maiden
laden in rags, weeping.
with ease, i mumble, whisper,
i love absolutely
everything
about you.
his omohyoid muscle
moves underneath the thin skin of my
lips
as he smiles to say,
i feel the exact same
way.
and it's almost like an
indirect kiss
the muscles that control his lips
rubbing beneath the skin
against my own blood ridden,
thin epithelius.

sourpatch

maybe if i
peel off multiple
layers of skin from my
face
i will indeed become
a different person
and all my troubles will
erase.

eye opener

haven't felt this way
in a while.
finally content.
i now realize what i
mistook as happiness was
something dark and
misconstrued.
horrible,
but revealed, now.

K;
conscience, sound and thought
spiraling at me
into my eyes
and they in turn
drill into everything
and strengthen my focus
but empty my limbs.

am i weak
for holding on
or strong?

knee itch

"describe your life in one word"
unbearable.
inbearable.
doesn't matter which way you
spin in
rather,
tongue it.
it's almost like
everywhere i turn
i must turn back again,
but it's unfair to place the blame
on any name.

how can all the politicians in that room
be so passionate about life?
maybe if everyone just gave up
we'd all be better off.
people buy guns because they
care too much.

then again
if you lose all ability to care
all that's left is hate and
desperation.

first, i attacked.
then i attempted
and now, i ignore
i forget
because it's the easiest of all three.

ear canal

those who eat up
cliche sayings like
vitamins,
well, they have it right.
roller coaster emotions
perhaps it's just depression
or bipolar, or both
they seem to make a dashing
couple.
as long as you don't dramatize it,
there's no need to panic,
get nervous or
say a word.

who (k)new?

i'm not that...
crazy. i'm just a little...
angry. please don't be
afraid, i'm just reacting
to chemicals and science
the way humans should
react. introduce myself to
this catalyst, i'll shake her hand
but never get friendly.
but here's reality, dear enemy
you shelter her from
who you were, and who you still
are. it's: nervous and
embarrassed, what you feel
and maybe you lie
and wonder why
but you just need to
l e t g o.

i am fire burning outrageously
and i can be a little
self absorbed
especially when there are creatures
with interest in me.
i am perfectly imperfect
and that's so cliche but true
and myself, i adore imperfections and
flaws to a hurtful degree.

if everything could go back in time,
i wouldn't mind
but it's not like i don't love my life
now,
it's just i don't like
change.

and
no matter how many new friends
i acquire
my love grows, thickens and
multiplies to a point where
i love each individual equally,
fully
even after the "first date".
if i didn't have discretion i would
tell them all how much i was
in love.

i think i am ok.

oil burner

just a teddy bear
on a lawn chair.
unidentified flying object
rather,
unnecessarily frilly ox.
everything is ok
like some strange turn of events
that never came.

1hr40, impossible!

i wish i could just
disassemble my
entire fucking body
in order for my conscience to
disappear
in order to obliterate my
thoughts.
it's hard to still want something
you wish would just go away.

it's hard when you're faced
with an emotion you can't describe,
have never heard of..
again, if it could disappear
it would be for the best
but when the time comes for
lives to part 16 different ways
you're not sure if you can
let
everything
go.

deluge

little fellow.
tiny, baby frog
sitting on a frightfully blue
bike-lock spiral cord
waiting to bid me
adieu
on my journey home.
literally millions of dragon flies
cascade from the sky
ethereal like paper-thin crystals
spinning down to earth in a
dance.
depression,
preying on freshman,
faking your way through seven hours days.
it's like a building was built around you,
for you,
formed to you
and now it's being broken down
by a jury of every thing you ever
put a speckle of love into.

this will be interesting.

tastalgia

captain morgan reflux,
got the taste creeping up my throat.
yet there's been no consumption
so i wonder.

insomnia/knee, ah

it's these times.
the tides raise high,
the house quites its voices
and the stillness sounds like
machines crawling in infancy.
times like these that i,
i feel alone in the dark
with the sodium gateway lights
open in front of me.
the chill has come too soon,
not even the month of october has
yet to swallow the trees with
orange and red.
it's now, with no distractions
that i feel the most real,
the most disassembled.

tragedy

it's sad when you can
look at your reflection, and wonder
"who is that looking back at me?"
because you can't recognize yourself
when something's missing

accept it
you will never be happy again
unless you have it.

still

it's almost like
every electron in my body
is excited
and breaking away from the atom,
unraveling my corpse.
i used to be addicted to misery
but a forced trip into rehab's
got me down.
taking away the substance
never guarantees a recovery.

i've got a nightmare that follows me
everywhere.
gold sedan, it rears on it's hind
wheels
and tears apart every thought
stopping life in its tracks.
i cannot live this way.

it's all fucking over
and i'm forever stuck in the same spot.
i am scared and i can admit this
but it wont change a thing.
everyday way a mess
perhaps an occurrence caused by me
but honestly?
i'd rather be falling apart, that way
than falling apart, this way.

pathetic, emotional mess,
he probably laughs behind closed doors
and this hurdle is just too high
to jump over.

eff why eye?

March and April, renamed:
Depression and Schizophrenia.
may and june passed under the radar
and could cease to exist without you
knowing.
July and August, now:
Growth and Rebirth

everything is changing.
your personality gains muscle
and your emotions lose mass.
everything is coming together
albeit slowly
but you still feel
empty.

obstacle

so i've been thinking
that if my heart keeps sinking
it's gotta stop
eventually.

running out, running mouth

i like when city lights
brighten the foggy night sky;
northern lights for those
lacking poles.

i live in overcast
but photograph under golden sun.

gravity is ruling against me
and i feel sick, now,
only because i've realized
i was genuinely happy, then
but never again...

late night dress-up

was it dirt smeared away from his eyes
like some ritualistic makeup
or his inner cherokee?
his face, heavily lined
but healthily dark,
hair free of grays
and clothes a tattered mess.
inside he was young
and his smile revealed the youth
still alive inside.
his words were slurred
like he couldn't fit his mouth around them
to pronounce them properly.

another man in striking contrast
he lives for his health
straightedge and passionate
yet they both sit on the streets
of portsmouth
begging, for lack of a better word
for money, to keep a living.

mr. lekler, he plays the dulcimer
and the melodic pings that shoot out
from in front of him
create beauty you cannot ignore
yet the drunks stumbling their way
down the streets,
they are blind
or rather, deaf
to his passion and his living
and it's terribly sickening.
the words he relayed to you, that night
gave you hope and realization
for his thoughts are your thoughts
and his wisdom is here to help you
to give you guidance.

the cherokee looking for weed on the streets
far away from home was he
and he scrounged yuppies for dirty pocket money
that would become dirtier by his hands
but he also had some stories to tell
that furthered your appreciation,
fed your heart and broadened your mind.
he is the bad conscience in all of us
and he is the hippie everyone strives to be.

their words told you to go in opposite directions
but their hearts lead the same path
and so does yours.

the truth, very obvious

she's ugly, homely
outspoken, too nice and
not interested in anything
you like.

you are beauty, defined.
shy, nervous and
short tempered.

i thought we had something
nice going, but
i guess i was very wrong.

i wont hesitate to
punch her in her ugly face
or spit in her eye
so keep her the fuck away if you
like her at all.

though, how can you
if you let one of your best friends
call her a cunt.

i don't think you realize
what you let go.

self hate prevalent

i don't care what any of you say
this is never ever ever going to change.
words were better with heart still intact.
can't really explain any of this with
justice or beauty or poise.
freaking out because i
count the days without sight, but i
freak out because i count the days until
i must face it again.
my entire life, a paradox,
a conflict.
all of this is bullshit.
so much pain i can never sleep
i can't smile without it
faltering and my thoughts
are never kind.

i should ask
what you're going to do when
school starts and you're
separated but,
i'm sure you'll have the perfect answer.

i just want everything to disappear
this whole year is stress heaven and
i fear my head may explode.

they say you'll look back and realize
it was never what you thought it was.
i say i'll never let this happen again
and they say, everyone else says that, too.
i learn from my mistakes.
primitive instinct makes you stay away
from things that hurt you
and this is no different.

when you realize you can never be happy again
what exactly are you supposed to do?

omgpleasehelp

can't keep doing this every night
it's destroying me.

falling apart more each day
a rag doll ripping at the seams
the sand that fills me slowly drains
and my animated face sags in ghastly humility.
i am inwardly screaming
in a silent plea
pain sizzling off of me from the heat
just bounces off my hard outer shell
trapped inside, never coming out.
i'm too proud
and too scared
to say anything face to face
or more accurately,
text to text
for perhaps i know the ultimate outcome.

he's been gone for too long
a foreigner, now
you can barely remember
the memories you share
and any thought of him seems
ludicrous
and so far away...
almost like none of it ever
happened in the first place.
it's almost funny,
almost.

any kind of reunion would be
asinine and futile
awkward and uncomfortable
not do-able, refuse-able
happily avoidable and impossible.
but each night in bed
your mind regresses and your entire body
screams for him
and you wonder if it will ever stop
if everything will return back to
"normal"
if it could ever be the same and
oh, God, please please
please
i don't know if i can live this way
i don't know if i can win this battle
i can't see myself doing it
this is all too much...

reunion, impossible
friendship, impossible
moving on, impossible

where else is there to go?

je te deteste pour ne m'aime pas

his personality is mind numbing.
her's, comically clashing
a red light district whore,
red fire light spinning on
the crown of her skull.
each rotation
and red is burning in your eyes.

to her, he offers your needles-
-needless to say
it's irrational.
combine words for a thick paste
that mirror in sound and
sight but are
completely different.
the needles keep a metal zipper
pinned to your chest
which when unzipped reveals
your insides.

you are slowly making your way
to being fresh faced
and it's not so bad.
however,
sweat still covers your body
and every area is fair game.

you're hurtin'.
he'll never take you back
never want you back,
never anything.
but you're still going to hope
and dream
and nothing can take that away from you.
it's just how your mind works.
half living in reality
half living in conscious dreaming.

fuming

if i could tear down this entire house
from the foundation up
with a sledgehammer,
i would.
sweat would roll off my skin
like diamonds.
i'd be rich in anger,
high in fiber
with wooden splinters piercing my flesh.
oh, how inventive.
it's all a futile attempt
to release everything.
i could never do such a thing
but dreaming is nice enough for now.

stuffy

i feel imprisoned.
every thought and emotion
seeps out of me
and fills up this house,
clogging the air
suffocating like high humidity.

i scream and
silence reverberates back at me.

i think of how it's been 3 months
and get completely sick.

i'm dying alone in this
godforsaken house.

i think maybe
you gave up on me
when i needed you most

and you know this

resurface

literally drowning under
gravity, fresh air
emotions and thoughts

sometimes i'm not sure i'm
breathing

left them downstairs

i'm sick of feeling this
i thought i was over it.
it's come down to:
given the chance, i'd go back
take it back...
-become what i hate
in order to heal.

i'd be decomposing everyday
happily.
my skin would shed in layers,
i'd be exposed to the cold
naked to the eye
but not to the naked eye
and i'd shiver in shame
but boil beneath tender muscle.
emotional-physical mess,
put myself down
thoughts construed and pointless,
unhappy,
yet my heart on a pedestal
beating erratically for
you.

he is utterly beautiful.
his eyes crescents as he looks up
into top eyelashes, at me
they glimmer in the soft glow of the
static television and for that moment
i wish he was
all mine
for i know she will never
care for him like i know i can.
he is pursuing a lost cause,
a heartbreaking unsatisfiable banshee
-words i could never speak to him.
my care, my want
it is born from places unknown
hidden from view, hidden from brain synapses.
he isn't the source of my pain
but he looks like my captor
and perhaps that is the sole reason.

i wouldn't say i'm still in love
but memories keep me grounded
and destroy the muscle keeping me alive
constricts airway passages
and tricks my brain into:
suffocation, arrhythmias
stomaches bottoming out and
bottom-of-a-long-dark-well
feelings.

i thought i was okay
but that's clearly not the case

free it, please

everything's carefully cryptic;
you're too scared of anything else.
emotionless, bottomless well,
welcome to outer appearances:

creamy beige,
the early stages of a baking wonder.
run your fingers up and down,
a tireless exercise
and glow from the fact
that it all belongs to you.
you are the last two people on this earth.
all thoughts revolve around each other
and eye contact brings the realization
that there are no two separate paths,
but in fact, an intertwined web of thoughts
and decisions.
you put all of yourself into one thing
because you believe it's a part of yourself.
you aren't giving yourself away to someone
you're giving yourself away
to yourself.
you can hold on
and feel comfort
because it beats and breathes beneath you
but you never believe it's another entity
and you never give it it's chance, either.

revelation

touching something
you believe with all your heart
is beautiful
makes you, yourself
feel beautiful
and that is the glamor
of love.

i'm not.

tu me manques.
yeah, i'm sorry.

i like temperature

you've broken it so badly
that i've developed heartburn

the worst season

on summer nights
i used to let my love
flourish.
it emanated from my being,
swirling off like smoke,
like the sweat evaporating
from our skin; hot heat.
it tasted
sweet.
i apologized, for my tongue
consumed all the sugar
and left you all the sour.
but ironically,
i'm the one feeling bitter.

summer nights now,
my love is left to rot.
it was given all away
and now it's time to
let it regenerate.
my pores are all closed
and here's the problem:
it's all stuck up inside.
no one to give it to
but no will to give it out, either.

lover

thank you.
you reminded me
i wasn't built to love.
you reminded me
being something i'm not
isn't worth it.
you taught me
the people who love me
are meant to hurt me.
robotically programmed
you as the doctor
frankenstein, perhaps.

you've created a monster.

induced chemicals

how can so much laughter
come out of someone
so devastatingly depressed?

missed this

i do it
so my skin can open like a mouth
and breathe;
my skin's too tight,
needing to be shed
and i am just a personality
stuck inside flesh and bone.

trust in me.
i don't compensate beauty
for identity
but sometimes
everything just isn't enough.

lullaby

you tap the surface of the water
and it ripples, the sunlight
acting as a prism as it colors the water.
the lime-green fish backtracks,
kissing the water once it returns stagnant
and you sing him a lullaby
though he can't hear it.
"i once believed i would die without you,
but now, i know i'm stronger than that"

changes

as he devours my neck
i wonder
what have i become?

no more wishes
for last chances.
i'm done

tall tree

finger biting frustration
leech and lice nesting in your
head, scratch until your bitten fingers
are stiff.

get dolled up
just to cut your foundation down
and destroy self upheaval
and respect.

bend backwards for the pain
and to accommodate for
everything.

breathe the scent of the
fresh, new air
and of the beauty in the
immediate surroundings.

stockholm syndrome

he is the terrorist captor.
i, the hostage.

be cautious

summer heat;
the hazy pavement-rippling waves
sprinkle seeds into the
earth
and bloom love, fabricated.
humidity consumes the mind
and separation anxiety sets in.
summer is like an epidemic,
a disease.
it comes in stages, intensities.
it infects your body
cripples your mind
and feeds you insanity
through your open, willing mouth
expecting thirst-quenching water,
and instead being force fed
deception.

summer and all its stories
are a lie
just don't get caught, stuck in
them.

i am this season

humidity

i must spill you this secret;
if only you didn't hate me,
unfathomably
and want her,
irreversibly.

realized

biggest liar and cheater
of them all

the conversation

fifty naked me's reflected back
in my eyes as i shampoo.
the coil ring snake
laughs at me and says
"my skin matches the metal
in your face"
and i reply
"sir, i pretend to feel
things when i don't and
pretend not to feel things
when i do"

midnight drunk calls

take a bite out of each
metal post on the sides of
his bottom lip;
acquire a taste for his life
and past.

the shaking foundation,
lead post of your existence
vibrating and unforeseeable
a moving mass at
1/10 shutter release.
he is darkened and blurred
but recognizable.
his face downcast
but sharpened robotically

everything you ever wanted
standing in front of you
with your toes brushing the
edge of the world

leaping would be too much work,
would be leaving a heart behind.

a smile like the sun has
a rope in his hand
with the end tied around your wrist,
and ropeburn doesn't hurt
but leaves a permanent
circular stain.

he covers you with his scent;
a snake writhing its way over its victim
and you are pulled under some kind of
deep green, unforgiving ocean wave
suffocating and looking forward to that
one moment of breathing the salty sea water
through nose and mouth into
parched, empty lungs
for rejuvenation and gratification.

he is the world to your
moon.
unwillingly attached, following a path
directed by gravity.
your eyes constantly scanning
toe to crown
and not only is he, to you
a beautiful photograph
but a human savior,
a grounding stick
the epitome of your want
the one thing that makes your
teeth catch your lip like a hook,
barbed wire to weak bait;
that makes your eyes dim half passed
eight and body rigged, but parallel to
the fast forward chemical process
of naturally melting glass.

perhaps he'll blow you into
something beautiful
and usable,
but reality says
he'll shove you from the tallest tower
with the world transforming before his eyes
in a whirlwind of color and noise
just to see you shatter
into a million little pieces;
all deathly prisms
illuminating and reflecting his own sun
into the eyes of the masses
to attract them to their cruel
fates.

000

i am fucking sick
of everyone i know

emptee

you can put all of yourself
into one thing.
pour each quirk
taste and DNA ribbon
into mirrored drumsticks;
a mountain in procession
cracked like baked earth.

but if you lose it,
what's left?

attraction

toasted with butter
he is warm and sweet.

every one has his own beauty.
previously,
creme brule skin, ocean eyes
and black outlined everything.
and the newest,
a smile so wide
charming, vibrant
it almost hurts to look at.
it's beautiful in aesthetics enough
to make you f e e l.
and hair, not in the least bit
opaque;
fair and weak
but a wonder and a beauty.
slit cut eyes
but a face free of harsh
realities and imperfections

each, their own brand of
purity.
each flawless, smooth
contrasting but
complementing.

red eyelids

you have my nerves convulsing
and my heart's on fire
as each breath it takes
comes faster and sharper

cerf

heat, sweat sniffs at the surface.
the tint under your eyes grows darker
purple, a likable color
but unlikeable
in retrospect.

fatigue is suffocating,
it's blinding.
but comforting and
feels-like-home.

insomnia comes at a price
but pays you back
and perhaps it's accredited
to thoughts racing through your head
or maybe just chemicals
your body produces.
or maybe,
it's just the curse of
youth.

love sparkles from sprinkles
spotted along the driveway to your
house
and along the footsteps to your
bedroom door
but stray no where more.

his personality,
beautiful, just like his
being
but it's just a disenchantment
like everyone else.

the sickness you feel everyday
is a reminder of just that.

the loaf

beautiful song bird
dances his hands across the piano
and his eyes are blind to
sheet music.
beer on the mantle
and each sip makes the notes
easier, smoother
faster and more pretty.
the lights are bright
but shadowed by their
potted covers
and the sun's already set
outside.
the smell of yeast wafts from the kitchen,
plates scream when they make contact
and skateboard wheels
wreck the floor in metered bursts.
it's hot
but sweat doesn't hover
on the surface of skin
and conversation comes in patches
but is constant throughout.
the song bird swipes his mouth
roughly, out of habit and thought.
he looks sullen,
but his music speaks differently.

defeat
despair
hopeless

fangs

i wish you would appreciate these images
like i do!

he would, he would
but it is unreachable, now.

amethyst

grin:
shiny mouth opening wide
each tooth
a lighthouse beacon
inside.

torso; a drum,
security.

happiness but,
deja vu-
you can't get over it
if you keep getting it.

and the waiting line for hell
is already growing.
too many to choose
from

..

york beach sunset plays at my eyelids and fingertips
burning eyes from fatigue and smile lines from happiness

unfinished furniture
unfinished poem.

the call

sometimes
i wish i was born without nerves

i could've avoided
heart racing
breath taking
passenger assigned trips.
surpassed sweaty palms
heart in throat
speeches with dry mouth.
stopped the shaking of hands
and twitching legs.
clenched jaws
nails digging into biceps
biting of
lips.

and perhaps, without nerves
would come the inability to feel

and maybe
the inability to feel
would bring about
the inability to
feel.

"remarkable!" you
remark.

if anyone knew how you really felt...

sore

with straight teeth
to bite your lips
proficiently.

brighten

his scent
soap
laundry detergent
a pinch of cologne.

so different from
vinegar,
sweat metal salt
dirt
sugar
and an intense fragrance
not easily likable.

it's better, in some ways.
simple
not harsh
easily acceptable and not
offensive.

however,
extremely foreign
and indifferent.

confused

nasty food reminds him of you

you mean

you of him.

i just want to break your face
and all i feel is hate

17 emotions

i can see her now
laughing, head back
backhand to lips

fifty obscenities you could
scream at her
to make her
hurt.

eternally confused.
a train with yellow fog lights
blue high beams
billowing smoke whistle
speeding along a curve
towards you.
nuclear sirens ringing in the distance
nuclear holocaust looming
the end of the world is beautiful
and so is his pain.

you could croon and coax him
into happiness
but instead you'd rather
heat up at his suffering

you know, you know
you're knowledgeable
and you know.
she didn't use names
but you hope her conscience eats her at night
telling her you're aware
because of the tone of your voice
over the cracked cell phone connection.
i'm hooking them up



but i like him too

you will destroy her.

ang'r

EMPTY WORDS
LIKE EMPTY BUCKETS
YOU KEEP TRYING TO POUR
ON ME
BUT NOTHING
COMES
OUT.

you hollowed me out
and he filled me up.

still on my mind

similar

post it note reminders.
every time i think i've picked
them all off
another appears
stuck to him.

one year, gone.
no memory, it doesn't
even feel real.
it has no materialistic value
it cannot be touched
it cannot be
reproduced.

i bought him a long time ago
and my warranty is up.

how long will this one last
before it breaks,
before it must be returned
before i no longer get
my money back.

at one time, the world was ending
but it decided,
'that isn't exciting enough'
so here we sit.

everything was so common
and needed no thought
and history is repeating
and repeating
and it's good, but nostalgic
and heart wrenching
and how many more times
must it repeat
before i get it right?

fear swells
for one day he may look
how he used to
and you'll have to face it.
you may have to face him,
accompanied
and that would be worse.

all you are, is rage
sometimes pretending to be
laughter and
every other emotion people
see on your face.

how many months until things go
sour?
not yet do your fingers yearn
to confine themselves
to tracing monotonously
continuously, hungrily,
but you're sure it's getting
close.

things are divided now,
split
but certain days
when the sun is shining bright
it's all the same.

maybe he was going crazy
thinking you thought of him
out of the blue.
or maybe you're just hopeful
and he's angered, contemptuous
and disgusted.

you want to talk for hours
but you also want to
forget.

sweat boils on your dermis
white burns inside your eyelids
and you're spinning backwards
along with your eyes
rolling into the back of your head

he is much better
and you
are much happier

sharp

the wind through the trees
whispered forewarnings of
thunderstorms approaching.
dull ache, middle ear
and apprehension but
excitement.
smooth expanse, full body
the sun comes out
hot and bright
and disappointment swoons
between your eyes.

the last connection
failed to uphold
and it's ruined you since
completely throughout
and left a hole you can
see through.

firelight is a smiling
disposition on scars
and a facade you can't
erase.

painful arm

almost like a father figure
you like the way he wears his pants.

every touch
stops time
and if eyes are closed
the insides flash bright
white.

it's so easy and yet
so odd.

you love it just the same.

save

blistered feet
warm concrete
acid tongue.
your life fills with
daydreams
that begin with a spark
and spiral into a whirlwind
of every shade of every colod
you've ever seen.
eyes high to the sky.
it erupts and ends
with a pop of red lips
and breathless sight
that endows upon you
love and lust.

ice cold

you bite down
and rip pieces off of me.
(sensitive arm flesh)
and as i'm destroyed,
my agony is reflected
back at me
in your reflective-glass eyes.
blue tides.
and your mouth opens wide
as you laugh,
displaying my remains.
i am your sense of humor.

---

this is the most alive you've felt
in a very, very long time.
gray clouds, gray air
salty, it's delightful
on the tip of your tongue.
nostalgia, lust and want
emanates from your being
and it's cool but not
cold.
the past is still haunting
but slowly it's being
masked.

numbers

#1. you hunger for him

#2. his smile is a fucking beacon

#3. the most beautiful thing you've
ever done
was look into his eyes

#4. he's never around
anymore.

your body will
explode from the inside
into a million little pieces
of flesh and bone and muscle;
spiderweb cracks,
the quake emitting from the
center point.
you shiver from your heart
outwards
and it swells to twice its size
fluttering from frail wings
coming back to life

enthusiastic

he is sunshine in a bowl.
you eat the rays
with a tarnished spoon
and smile with big, wide teeth
at the warmth

and cut it, too

blue toxic paint
acrid and flammable;
red flame retardant jumpsuit
similar to the sweet
jeune fille.
undercooked pancake
with powdered sugar and syrup.

a figure that makes you feel
inadequate,
small and pitiful.
the washington monument
smalls in comparison.
wide and soft and an
int ter est
yet his mouth makes you feel
ad e quate.

you still sleep
within the salty sea
with small waves that
rock you back and forth.
you're still bent,
an oak boat
with no passengers.
fireworks explode off of you
in a display of beauty
and color
that spark debate
on light spectra
and colors that do not exist.

everyone is reconnected
every one is reconnecting.
paper cups attached with strings,
primitive,
and they all can hear
but you cannot.
it's magic can't work for you
worthy, you are not.

you will take every
opportunity
and none will move you
from your spot in hell.
the place mat is set
your spot, reserved.
perpetual pain and perpetual
want.
tribal and stupid,
disintegrates your worth.

"fuck the pain away"

i'm sick of all of you pretending
and lying
and cheating
and being fucked up
just to get through the night.

vertical

you leave the entry form
blank
because the words are stuck
underneath your skin.

you leave
to pull them out

out

the earth in its infancy
dry, cracked
solid, sandy desert plain
a circle of withered life
not yet begun.
it reminds you of your own
inner core.
as if the earth's outside
represented your insides
and your outsides
represented the earth's
insides.

you never talked.
perhaps that is what
destroys you
every waking moment
of bated breath you take.
relaxed, your heart raced this morning
and threatened to over count.
your nerves vibrated
making stationary stature
impossible.

some feeling emerge
that tell you to give up.
some tell you to hope
some encourage violence
and others, neutral ground
and even sweet anecdotes.

you persist the unobtainable
in a frail attempt
at a shot in the dark.

he is closed off and arrogant
outgoing and the center of attention
but speak so, "faire face"
and he will anger, deny
a match struck, hundreds of degrees
spewing from painful friction.

so many things in the dark
and any success or improvement
would be futile.

one year to the date,
and many other dates to come
that chill your bones
tremble your jaw
blend and strike your heart.

it will never be over.

the sweet face easily forgiven
now you taste doubt
anger, passion, absolute hatred
and your body elongates and grows
and you stand above her,
towering and screaming
breath so powerful it knocks her down
and you crush every platform she ever
stood upon
and remorse laughs at your pity
and regret
and he doesn't have reason but
he's always there, and he's always
right.

you want to know
every minute detail
of july 11th,
but knowing would mean
the tearing of every skin layer
and every vertical sector
of your body.

he will never speak of anything
you wish to know
no matter how tame,
and it turns skin to sandpaper
that you scratch at
to hurt and be hurt
to peel away
and to scrape up palms.

honey on the tip of your tongue
and it burns the skin that has
gone away.
you use it, pooled
towards "enemies"
and those who do not appreciate
all that you've become.

DO YOU EVEN FUCKING STILL CONTAIN
ANY SLIVER OF CARE OR WONDER
OR THOUGHT FOR ME?

"i don't think i'll kill myself,
not tonight"
are you pussying out?
"i'm finally pierced, they haven't healed"
but they are there.
"my mother would instruct the mortician
to remove them. everyone's last memory
of my face would be of scabbed wounds
and cheap morgue makeup, an attempt
to cover them up"
excuses, you will never have the guts
"i will not let you become a part of me"

outside, you swell and you swell
and you swell
inside you shrink to almost nothing.

not even real words
that escape your mouth
arise, now.
they settle and content themselves
with buzzing around your brain.

it's impossible to speak.

"it feels good to hear you whisper my name"

"it feels so good to whisper your name"

i hurt

the sun warms
and the wind blows my
forehead
and it feels like
air light kisses,
like nostalgia and
sweet bliss
and the taste i
can't remember.

dry corners

please excuse me
while the organ-fist
splits and becomes a
jumper.
excuse me while i
fall, posing into the
corner.

mark your calendars
for the date approaches.

words and emotions;
alphabet cereal.
a dirty word floating
in a dirty spoon.
consume it and it becomes
a part of you.

you used to have fun
but you can no longer
find it.

it's like a bast of
cold and hot hair.
your skin knows not
whether to
sweat or
shiver.

your skin knows not
whether to
weather
or toughen.

one way

cranberry-pomegranate
juice.
leftovers,
they hide in the corners
of lip meeting lip.
sticky as it dries.

no wonder your face
is always stuck
to the backside of a
camera.

le weekend

love is blind
but he regained his sight.

thunderstorms bring
nostalgia
strong and yearning.

a bath of yellow light
orange citrus that burns
and scars retinas.
mood lighting,
somber lighting.
dark and bright as the
center of attention.

similar in stature;
statues in the same
frozen pose
90 degree angle elbows
a camera glued to your faces.

similar in scars.

the couple in the corner
move as snakes.
a game of twister
zero gravity on the
walls.

goolash

i am a withering
shriveled flower
in the bright sun's rays.

warm breeze.
your heart pounds
and you don't feel it
until you remount.
the plummet and ascent
captures your heart and lungs
in a cage.

the bitch in the acura
spreads organic poison
into your eyes.
again.

his walk is
distinct
in a bad way.

couchez-vous

too young
to feel this old
too young to feel so
worn out and tired.
too young to feel like
you're dying.

cold mornings

"your lips looks
positively glacial"
he remarks
and i reply
"they froze
in the wind"
glazed and fired in a
kiln.
if he makes a move
use a little teeth
and his lips will become
frost-bitten.

a woodpecker spoke to me
this morning
in foreign tongues.
it sounded like the
sun early rising
over a sparse hill.
he spoke to me words of
wisdom
and taught me the secret to
life.

a man kept pace with me
blue shirt, blue sunglasses
and never spoke a word.

round the corner
and come face to face
with a vanity-riden
brown on brown.
side step
and exhale.

journal1

the sun blanketed,
the white sheet pulled
over the deceased.
for the past week
you forgot how the sun
splices and deforms
and the ray of light
shining on one side
cuts that side of your heart
and consumes it

--

kneecap or
muscle, vein
nerve or tendon
shrieks with pain.
and cements joints;
a stiff walk.
tender elbows
stinging lobes
prickling wrists.

you stand and
static fills your eyes
head clouds and
brain swims in your skull.

falling apart physically

falling apart mentally

it joys you to sport wounds
especially ones you can
tug.

--

i'm just a human
made up of a million little
problems.
cauterized together
or some bound with rope
how else would
hundreds of different
unrelated problems
stick together?

you were made
and not created.

sick of it

before everything
he gave a chance
to discontinue your advancements
and you wish
desperately
that you had
complied

out of focus

14
the ripe old age of
softness.
water drops and streams
on the windows
loneliness in the front seat
driver side only
and lighting strikes
and illuminates the sky
he remarks
"it's like a camera's flash"
and the truth is
suffocating

the only thing that could make you
happier
would be a cigarette in one hand,
razor blade in the other
and 50 new lacerations
on each wrist.

bear trap

of all seated in a circle
around you
with the exception of one
place,
sharp spice to the left,
mouth watering sweet
fruit to the right
and suffocating incense
across.
yet all you can smell
is, not only a sour
throat clenching taste
but his home, too
and it fills your head.

the clock strikes
time that's the same
backwards as it is forwards
only upside down
and your heart destroys
your careful composition.

mobile blog works

le coeur qui fremit.
shatters, sparkling hair sized fractures,
spider web break.
destroyed with horse blinders
and silence.
campfire under a boiling pot
with the broken porcelain
inside,
it scalds.
cold rain violently screams
for bodies to curl around
biceps, forearms, hands.
to press into soft,
to scent.
feet slam
wishing to break themselves
into hard wood.

the cause totally unforgiving
and unwilling to change.

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la table ronde

people mistake your silence
for arrogance.
and blank slate gray face
for apathy.

The Round Table.
you stare down at it.
and smiles fornicate
on your face.

three times wide
because the event
is all too fake.

old writing

exactly how it's written on paper.

--

everyone gets scared sometimes-
all i see is red-
red brake lights, red traffic lights,
red veins beneath my eyelids.
the boy whose scarf conjoins his head
and neck-
his bust out the window-
scarf blowing in the wind-
and it is just that-
which almost blows it away-
my head turns and i deliver a
secret "i love you"-
and he mouths it back-
it is this which i live for.

--

his fingertips as sandpaper
rub against your own to
erase your finger prints.
yearning for the static that's
missing when you kiss.

half your personalities are
opposing
but the other half
identical.

--

the middle of both your lips
glued together
the corners open and rise
few teeth show.
you don't want to smile
but can't help it.
he mirrors your expression
and it's like a visit to the
dentists
office inside a house of mirrors.

perfect in symmetry
perfect in color.
expressions of the same expressionless
stare.

same eyes lidded
and sunken in.

it would be cruel if he didn't
think the same as you.

the obvious already stated
never questioned.

twin stability
different cause, same effect.

there is something floating in the
corner of your eye.
it catches and snaps each
eyelid shut.
there is something there you
can't ignore.

the agreement spoken, more or
less.
but four steps, you turn your
head to look back
and 7 steps, he turns
but your head is straight forward.

you're almost certain, it can't
be nothing.
but you truly are
drowning in naivety and false
romance.

--

accidentally initiated.
is it out of nerves or
interest?
that it's as if
he's pretending
to play the bass drum
on your foot.
barely any words to the left
but a constant flow to the
right.
an old colleague and a new
friend.
a past lover.

a jolt
raising skin as it passes along
a fleeting motion
a relative reflex of muscle
replacing something displaced
a scent tiptoes along the
cord
and it's sweet, but faint.
it asks for your company
but you decline.

his face, a sickle
his profile is bordered.
you can imagine when he sleeps
little agricultural geniuses
cutting & tilling and trimming
to keep everything
in line.

the searchlight did not pass
his eyes.
so the purple half moons were
not acknowledged, if there.
and everything registered too
fast.

he left with "what?"
and "alone"
and without any formal
issue of farewell
like a criminal
avoiding the question.
he's a man who doesn't
accept "goodbye"

--

faces everywhere
melting.
a girl with black lined beneath
each eye
they droop
and identically so do the mouth
and cheeks.
another girl faintly resembles
melted wax.
but maybe that's just your
eyes swish panning to view
something else.
the elder woman
who spreads sadness, hatred,
depression,
her face, permanently melting
frozen, cooled wax
its crevices deep and dropping.
at Walgrins
'bringin the grin since 1989'
the cashier has a kind soul
it pulsates warm and big
his voice is endearing, caring
his eyes search yours
but when you agree to look
back
agree to play a game of
glances
he is already ready
for another customer.
his jacket was sporty
wind breaker shifting in the
stagnant wind of inside an
artificial
pharmacy, convenience store.
the wind outside chills to the
bone
but brings with it the scent
of a new season and the
song of birds' rebirth.

slowly, alone
destroy yourself.
this time, it's real.
it's coming and it's real.
you don't want it
but it's an unstoppable force.

--

deep fluttering heart beats
that nestle in your throat
making it impossible to breathe.
it hurts.

empty stomach
its contents rise
and pool at the opening
everything in your body
assembled in one place.

--

each beat conjures lightening
and it strikes, sharply
left ventricle,
right.

your life is
pretty vibrant.
your life is:
pretty,
vibrant.

self

opposites

never good enough for him

en realité

too good for him

;;

help me help me help me
help me help help help me
help me help me help me help me help me
helpmehelpme
help
me



slowly

d i s i n t e g r a t i n g

skin deep

bitchy, grouchy
hard crunchy exterior

soft, mushy
loving, accepting interior.

cake makeup and
dark lines.

business suit of lies.

completely oppose the exterior
in order to change the interior.

bleeding

fishing line lassoed
round your heart.
each tug creates
a laceration.

classic piano feeds your ears.
loud.

alone,
ghosts surround you.
each latch on
with a sharp iron jaw
and feed,
relentless.

all is still
and company is sparse
blood pours from your mouth,
the pressure resumes.
the ghosts coax from you

one scream, to the ceiling
another, the sky
a third, distant nebulae and
twin neutron stars.
each reaching farther distances
than the one before it.

alone,
a "help wanted" sign
hangs from your neck.

ruin

what outerspace feels like
tremendous pressure
and breathless lungs.

infinite and black
with no one around
to hold your hand

it's like being underwater
with no way to
resurface.

springtime

your heart as the earth;
broken, each piece a
tectonic plate.
it quakes,
trembles and quivers
and the plates move.

mostly, subduction and
convergent.
but tiny pieces break off
with every tremor.
they can start in your head
or control your torso

both equally painful
(convulsions,
like electricity passing through
a grid
wreck your torso
in small bursts
and long
back-arching strikes)

the sunlight brightens.
tints subjects yellow
and creates
3d cardboard cut-out nightmares
in front of your very own eyes.

springtime brought the sun
and the sun, in turn
brought you nightmares.
and every walk outside is
struck with a myriad of
buzzing bees
telling you to close your eyes
in fear of the scenery popping up
and reaching out for you.

reconnection

tangy metal bounced off
the walls inside your nose.
tickled the back of your throat,
swam inside a teapot
the teabag filled with dirt and
stitched closed with sweat.
hair a dirty mess, just the same
and another scent prevailed
still unfamiliar, yet
safer and warmer.

spicy and warm, like chai
but not sweet enough to drink
just tantalizing enough to inhale
and to press lips together,
perhaps tonguing the chapped outside
safely hidden, stuck together inside.
invisible but knowingly visible.

the day changed and night fell
and another came and aged halfway
and the smell of fast food and pine
mixed together.
it was like organic and artificial mated
and labored something new
not-so-nose-upturning
and not nostalgic, either.
the rain cascaded and didn't soak,
the wind, though bothersome
standing hair on end and
passing tendrils as curtains
in front of eyes,
it didn't phase you.
there was no chill where there could have been.
and perhaps this is all attributed
to what was in front of you.

and in between these two occurrences
metal so cold it numbed your feet,
but thankful were you of it's inched support,
your arms wrapped around at the perfect point
where hand meets hair
and fingers thread through tufts
and noses, 70 degree angles
meet scent saturated necks
the frogs sang in a chorus of
hundreds
and silenced every other sound of the night.
a symphony, an orchestra
of different pitches
all conducted just for you.

blood pressure

a long-bladed dagger in your heart
with every beat, it ticks
side to side
like a metronome
as if your breast plate was
irregularly absent.

and if the scent
catches any updraft
it's necessary to hold your breath
to keep the downpour
at bay.

even the water
drowning you
is hard to swallow
now

burning

daybreak
it's eyes drooping with fatigue
squinted, maybe even
stuck together.
it yawns, stretches
and never truly
wakes.

it's terrible from the start.
nonstop action
until, ass to seat
letting yourself blink for more than
a fraction of a second
you're asleep again.

skin crawling.

bones convulsing
under stagnant skin

it is absolute, irreversible
torture.

longer hair than ever
there is now not enough
to curtain a wide-eyed face.

depression is supposed to die off
with the snow
and yet as the days grow warmer
it gets worse.

the voice of reason,
no longer logical
screams everyone is looking
screams, this is not enough
everything is wrong

bellows,
get
out.

598urgfhfre6

the fear of
childhood inadequacy.
the sound of a truck's
back up warning
reminds you of summer.
the teach who is most alike
her students,
a year older,
voice 5 years younger,
the day bounces with happiness.

up down, updown
up.
just listen to a windows culling song
it calls you to its valor
lock your legs together and
dive.

life is unbearable sometimes
and other times, its too short.

pro-choice, just so you know

chapped lips
stained yellow
from
too-much-tea-intake.
tea leaves
tea tree.
oil.

swollen throat
not yet sore or stinging
but certainly a newborn cold
its eyes still shut
all it can do is breathe, now.
the crying will commence in
few days time.

the salt will sting irritations
and the ruddy face will
spill over your soft tissue
to create the mother of all
sicknesses.

drink enough vitamin c to sustain yourself.
drink enough to almost die
but just enough to save yourself.
a lethal amount will abort an unborn fetus
and everyone should have this knowledge.

8

you sigh
and as if the air was filled
with hydrogen
your breath emits combustion
and fire snakes throughout the room
but no one gets burned.

7

his eyes lined with purple
transparent and not opaque
is it exhaustion
or blue veins?
long black eyelashes embark;
perfect parabolas
they spark the idea
of eyelash-root-pain.

on the bus,
crowded,
the air is thick
disgusting.
you watch the man in his mirror
and the girl pictured next to him
in reality, behind him.
she smiles at the world outside
she smiles from her thoughts.
similar in comparison to another
similar in aesthetic distaste.
you marvel at her.

you marvel at the man as well
his face a permanent frown,
slightly different from every other day
his face does not mirror (in the mirror)
the names of children
written along his bus.

it doesn't match up.

i see you little star

a distant star
or planet or plane
reflected through the window in the mirror
a fake justification of light
refracted image of reality
a real life copy
a real life fake
a frightening amount of lightyears away.

it seems to be getting closer
it seems to blush when i look into its eyes

if we were to determine its gender
from it's color
characteristics, size
personality
would we say male
or female?

would we sweet talk it
like it was a plant?
bid our breath
to paint it's exhale
onto each sunburst
each skin melting celcius point?

i would hug it like an old friend
breathe deep to evoke a scent
heat my arms to such a
degree
that they exist
no more.

school work

Entering,
It backsplashes
Coils like a snake
Or smoke billowing.
It spreads its body
But never dissipates
Multiplying like a disease
Encompassing pure, clear beauty.
A solid mass
But separate in sight.

Another enters,
Sinks,
Grows still
But backwards,
And aged man shrinking.
Midlife crisis.
Acne.
Fetus: umbilical cord
Intact.

It grows
Like a trees roots
Or vines crawling
Spreading like butter
Over bricks.

Mini atomic clouds bloom
A flower spreading its petals
Yearning towards the sun.
Smiling.
It is reproduction in motion.
Something solid, small
Growing, thinning
Into something much greater
But far more transparent.
Fare more dull.

Past it is nothing.
It’s form obscures the world
Around you.
Captures your eyes
And averts them from reality.
It’s current essence
Reflecting a sliver by the base
Refracted
But encased
In the diseases perfect captor.

The two evils dance together
Bow and become one.
Now the mix,
Too dark, too ugly
You see your world
Completely encased
Leaving you solely one mind
In a room of
White.

lip sore

i will never surpass anyone else.
i am a one and they are all tens.

back stiff, waterlogged 4x4
slightly bent.

a dividend, a separator
perpendicular to each eyebrow
perfectly vertical
your line of symmetry.

personality flaw
a fault
a weigh you drag along
the scale to someone self conscious
success to the last born

it hangs by a flesh hook on your wrist
it's jealousy perhaps
selfdoubtinconsistency.
who knows.

it doesn't hurt
but it's constantly pulling you
down.
down and to the left

procrastinator

time spent