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.