my heart has turned to fucking stone.
it's suffocating me.

fuck

it was just a game.
female metal shoe
and a male giant, a flesh-creature
he got bored quick
once he had fun playing
he set the shoe aside for something new,
something more stimulating.

but i, too, create my own misery.

i've been burned too hard

My complexities are my simplicity

must not sleep must warn others

i could speak;
so many reasons, feelings
i could exhale a well thought out algorithm of intricate explanations

but for the world's sake
i'll be content to sigh
to avoid your (god damn) eyes
ignore and forget
to completely dissipate and simultaneously atomize you, too.

the only dream i can remember
from the spiraling, confusing wirlwind of overslept-vacation-dreams
is of laying on top of you
stroking the kosher hair at the nape of your neck.

i wonder, if it still lays untouched?

melatonin absence

i feel so heavy all the time.
i cover my face with my hands and fall flat against the wall.

i'm heavy because i can taste my fate.
not just the inevitable end-all
but my sure, unfolding future
constrained to set paths and expectations,
unfoldings.

i will never open
never buckle down again, though i yearn to.

i make the wrong choices
and betray myself in the end
anyway.

unabashedly,
guiltless
i now set out as the predator.

go away

our most tender, intimate thoughts:
the drive home
showering
the moments before we fall asleep
staring up at the night sky
long walks.

i'll never be able to wash your dirt from my skin
it doesn't just run on the surface, it's much deeper.
you have poisoned me,
infected what lies inside me.

a beautiful trainwreck
a mistake.

condescending kiss-ass,
shared and shared and shared

you are the worst kind of person.

december

i'll miss your smile.

it's the kind that completely transforms a person's face,
that goes from beautifully fierce
somber, unchanging and eyes slowly drooping
to sunflowers blooming in ecstasy,
muscles contracting and folding skin
scrunched up but utterly heart warming and wrenching.

that changes the mood
the vibes of the room
with a wave, a sonic boom.
an invisible, unstoppable circular explosion.
it affects everyone inside, even if they can't feel it.

a breath of fresh air;
the deep, wavering inhalation
of a drowning victim on the brink of death breaking the surface.

his smile breathes life.

vocal recordings

i wanna grate you from my skin like dead skill cells;
you’re dead.
but my hollow eyes,
ne’er shedders of epithelium
are just searching for something to hold on to.

nothing feels real anymore;
a distant memory

Love is indifferent to life

spoken

the-woman-behind-me's arms, waving madly
she's pissed, completely pissed
at my inertia, trajectory.
but it's really her windshield wipers frantically swaying back and forth,
not her wavering anger,
in the torrential downpour.

you live inside me.
i've kept you here for a while, now
left you to ferment
hoping that, parasitically,
you could blossom into something beautiful with me.

but my life force cannot sustain yours,
your sinew, still attached to my phalanges
wither
and you must detach.
appearing like a fresh-cut hide,
your limbs curl up
and slowly you crumple, angular, like a sheet of weak paper
into a tight ball at the core of my body.
you manifest,
transcending my flesh
and i throw you away
wishing to rid myself of any hope of you.

but as my paws crawl inside,
what's left of you is a sticky mess
that i can't detach from.
and even as i pull desperately
with my shoulders
with my forearms, elbows and wrists
i can't remove you even from my hands.
and stuck now, are you,
to the very core of me;
stuck to my hands
with my hands stuck to you.

but this is good.

"get me out of here"

no one hears me

i'd love to leave you all behind
but i care too much to hurt you

i'll disappear for a while
but i'll come back, someday.
maybe not for weeks or months
maybe after years

i feel fast asleep
but my eyes betray me, blinking rapidly
none of you could ever comprehend this feeling.
i hope you never have to.
deflate your head, because it's not all because of you.

it costs 50 cents to self destruct
i've got thousands in the bank
it's just a matter of a countdown.
the path in front of me is all down hill;
i'll do nothing to stop this journey.

none of this is worth it
not even writing this-

the brown and white dog
with the long, sharp teeth
gets overly excited
when we descend into his
domain

flesh-packaged curiosity

i stare across the urban farmlands.
a sparse field of colorful, metal crops.
these man-made plants bubble before my eyes
there is no farmer, only pests.
they each parasitically claim ownership of a
vehicular piece of produce
and hungrily use it up
until this process ruins the earth.

horrible, yet beautiful.
it's beauty makes me think of you;
red panda face
or perhaps any feline breed.
his smile turns his face into a sun.

just another pandora's box i should not open.

to be honest

i guess this change in temperature is pretty nice
it's making my hair stand on end.

i guess (these) change(s) in temperature (are) pretty nice.
it's making my (life) (more exiting)

riddle me this one, bitch

i saw your face in stark hypnagogic clarity
its sharpness cut me

your facial topography a patchwork quilt
glued instead of sewn,
opposing materials combusted before my eyes
and i saw your face melt, smoke,
disfigure.
around your eyes: loose silk
and frayed holes where your eyes should be.
your empty head swayed in a non-existent wind.
your disgusting beauty unsettled me.

in the short pseudo-dream/reality
everything was as it should be.
in the infinitesimal fraction of a second
before my eyelids spoke "raise the curtain"
you wanted desperately to kiss me

and i, you.

its funny how opposite spectrum our cochlear fluids are now.
but i wonder if
in the fleeting seconds before you drift
i wonder,
if you ache?
because i do, now, all the time.

i'm just waiting for everything to end.

you need to disappear

surging, speeding into complete uncertainty
i can tell by the inertia
it pulls all my organs to the left.
but the speedometer is stuck on zero
i'm moving fast but going no where.
i plunge into bright value but dark tone;
a neutral downhill slalom.
i feel sick from all this movement.

the words weren't written
but it doesn't mean they aren't there.
they hang in signal towers,
between satellites swimming past constellations.
you can taste the words
shockingly sour-sweet
like touching your tongue to the contacts of a nine volt.
but when saliva creates a circuit,
far from lip to lip,
it shocks and disconnects the brain
it separates ascending tracts from descending reality.

dear You,
I miss.

ps. i'm a wreck.

no more titles

i miss my Nike's something awful
but they're lost, and always will be.
so i sit here waiting to forget about them

i used to have an affinity for cut diamonds
until one cut me
so i ground my collection down to dust
but it overtook me,
consumed my surroundings, my habitat
it filled my mouth and nose and eyes and ears with dry powder
and i drowned in a sea of silver

it's not even supposed to matter anymore.

but i guess it does

still and statuesque.
silence resonating.
it's quiet in the classroom
the atmosphere appears padded
like solitary confinement.
in my head's a different story;
the sound of fists pounding flesh.
the crack of knuckles connecting with wood.

i am so sick of you.

upside down lady bug

i should melt as i walk.
viscous body part extensions stepping as they drop in globs.
they emulate my legs
carrying me forward a few feet
until my entire body is liquid human;
a puddle on the ground face first.
i embrace the solid ground.
i seep into the earth and dissipate,
still existing
but no longer of homo sapien consciousness.
it's all i want.

i hate being alive.

hynagogic text messages

my brain says:
the crust separates from the mantle
and vibrates the miles that surround it.
ceramic tiles on an un-glued surface
they rattle like the empty shell of a corpse filled with bones.
my optic nerve travels a similar root/route,
plucked and sawed like a stringed instrument
the blood rushing to my head on the weekends doesn't help.
i can only scream so loud.
it doesn't work.

a vampire-blood-lust, throat parching hunger sears my esophagus
literally a blood-lust
but i've held my breath and silently vowed to stay untouched.
i can self satisfy in other ways

this month, it's halloween every weekend.
but if i ever see your devastating face around
i'll rip your clown mask right off at the seams.
you sewed it on for permanence.

detachment from safety and attachments to strangers
i relax my fingers then apply a velcro grip
i'm so backwards.

the letters are all jumbled in my alphabet soup
my eggs scrambled when i wanted them poached
cerebral-stuffed microwave ovens pile up at my feet.

i have so much to say but i've lost my voice
i drink tea with honey to attempt to regain it
only time will tell

reality says:
i'm irrevocably, eternally falling completely apart.

new england dragway

life abides by two extremes,
always;
a seagull and a helpless infant.
the bird is overjoyed
the baby's always crying.

two tops spin on the same plane,
but different axis
time causes them to drift
what a tragedy.

my insides are boiling pitch,
my brain melts from the rising steam
my eyes no longer focus

coming home means seeing the drag all lit up;
metal boxes tear apart the pavement with their rubber mouths
the noise travels,
but so does the highway.

OUCH

mile 104 on
one-oh-one
the car on the overpass above my head-
a shooting star rushing across the night sky.
how metaphorical.

i'm so happy

the marbled dog's eyes burned opalescent;
orange and green in the night light.
neighbor-voices next door:
a chattering, illuminated house through the trees.
foreign spice-rack smoke burns my throat
and collects a film on the back of my tongue.
the night is calm and lukewarm.
vibrations from the highway travel long-distance
to the cilia in my ears and my body charges me
$1.99 for the nostalgia.
nicotine-high with my eyes staring up at the
never-ending universe-sky.
i'm so at peace and so torn, missing you.

wonderland alice has insecurities

skin stretched tight across bone,
the elastic salt is a shield.
it burns red-hot like embers and coals,
sweat droplets fire-walk across the smoldering bed of ashes.

i exhale.

a sharp stick causes the fire to converge;
i wish to evaporate.

he sits high above the rest in a judge's stand,
each paper signed and set aside as easily as the rest;
i flutter to the floor.

his sweat drips on the patrons below
from his furrowed and unkempt brow.
they throw their heads back to catch the precipitation on their tongues,
one taste and they're obsessed.
i keep my seat at the witness stand,
for now.

he loves so easily that i have no face or name,
the cheap generic brand that never tastes as good.
the judge sells his body and convicts it to a cell
but the name-less face-less broad stays at the stand
and she's convicted, too.

she could leave but her self torture is her lust.

knowing is far worse than any twisted daydreams;
it's reality.

painting a pretty picture

a ruffled fisherman casts his line on an overcast day.
his crows feet speak his age
but facial hair hasn't aged a day.
endless eyes equally match, with defiance,
the endless black lake.
i'm a sunfish in this salty body beneath his wooden feet,
it's blue absorbing molecules reflect my mood.
the fisherman expertly lures me in
and suddenly,
without warning,
with my mouth watering around the bait
it pierces me and my passion erupts
and we are attached my a disconnection of string.
i do not fight, i'm too stunned by
rushes of serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin.
ironically, he is the one jerking my scaled body about,
rather than my own convulsions flailing his sinewy machinery.
his dominance over me is overwhelming
and the cultural history and normality of this curses me.
desperation and pride fill my cheeks with blood
and i blanket any bubbles from fleeing my mouth
with swallowed saliva and kind words.
because i choose to believe this
reality.

he extracts me as his prize, consumes me even
and i live about him until my rebirth as
vitamins, bacteria, urea and gaseous elements.

a bird breathes me in and i become the bird.
the fisherman becomes a hunter
and he shoots me down.

observing celestial bodies

dimpling the starry sky
are scurrying monsters.
their paws
fit snuggly in the holes of the
chain-link fence-sky.
their claws
pierce the soft climbing-rock atmosphere,
expertly maneuvering the realistically endless
but encompassing universe-sky, like a dome.
they are crawling towards me,
painfully hungry for my purple-blue aura.
they lick their maws and gobs with gooey salivation,
last meal still hanging precariously from canines and molars.
it's the face of an old acquaintance!
our screaming faces meet
in a collision of wet and heat
and the monsters are consuming me
under the soft, apathetic twilight.
but the safety-civic net keeps me protected
with liquid-sand and shiny metal armor.
i smile at this frightening scene
and think of you.
because each star in the sky reminds me of you,
like millions of copies of your beauty
freckle the sky with breath taking light.

melting

a fusion of egos,
wet flesh connecting.
i wither and bloom in circadian rhythms
while he erodes and reforms with mineralized fervor.
i breathe in his breath
and he breathes in mine.
in this moment we are comprised of
id only,
pure desire and passion, the outer world
disintegrates.
the hunger consuming us is
relentless and life-threatening.
i try hard to consume not only his body,
but his mind and energy as well
and if i could eat away his sadness with our
passionate connections
i would never let it end,
i would never let him exit me.

swimming above

i am a key
and he is the tumblers.
we fit together perfectly,
mathematically,
a well thought out algorithm.
our unity unlocks a door to a room,
bright and pulsing.

this town smells like life
and before i must leave again
i breathe it all in out the window.
i watch the beauty in the street lights as the sun fades
and observe spacious farms and fields,
and houses that intrigue my eyes so much.
the pavement and dirt beneath my naked feet even feels so right
and the river rushing constantly is a perfect lullaby.
demons flood the streets
but their humor is so kind
that i can't mind.

his face in the artificial navigating light
proves even more beautiful
than when its bathed in florescent.
when i wordlessly murmur against
blood-ridden, thin skin,
the opposite of rigor mortis occurs
and all rigidity drains from me
and i become mush.
his entire essence impairs me
and all i can do is want,
but the feeling is so indescribably perfect
that i can't complain.

suffocating under nihilism is unimaginable now,
he gives meaning to everything.

waking up

moments that make you
beg
with every molecule of your corpse to last forever.
my bare silk draped across his smooth leather,
phalangeal hunger grasping for more,
totally insatiable.
his five-pronged outstretch of energy
whisper-walks along my armor
and i feel my insides unravel
as i reach for this solid being laying before me.
rough epithelial outgrowth living on his face
reddens my chin, darker with each kiss.
and on the inside it still feels like
he's snuggly fitting there.

what i want to say vs. what i should say

i will glaze your heart and fire it in a kiln.
i will kiss its wound to better it.
surgically remove the nociceptors.
give you all my love to fill your empty ventricles.

vs.

i hope you can better it.
i am an on-call EMT for your heart.
please be well while i lay dormant.
i'll watch for you politely.

for you

you should look familiar from all the times i've seen you now,
but your eyes appear to me as "too-familiar",
like i've seen them a million times.
on top of that,
they are so entrancing,
my life and tissue unravel when my own and yours connect.
i can see in them everything you yearn for,
everything you wish to be,
everything you want in me.
yesterday i felt your energy coursing from your palm to mine,
eccrine-pore design.
i hunger for your arms,
to touch them,
to taste them,
to encircle me.
weeks could i spend exploring every aspect of them
and letting them explore me while we sweat in the summer heat.
your breath upon my lips is enough to intoxicate me
into lethargy and love-drunk comas.
yet your touch gets my nerves reeling,
vibrating,
sympathetic nervous system set to work.
but don't waver, my love, don't doubt,
it's my own inhibitions convulsing my confidence.
i have fear and pain on my side and i'm sorry for not being in bloom.
i wish to open all my petals to you,
to reveal the sweet nectar and pollen inside;
but anxiety keeps me closed to the winters lasting,
slow-fading chill.
you've replanted me and slowly i am sprouting,
my stem intimately wrapping around your
organic but imperfect
paralyzing crystalline beauty.
your lips could find mine in a room diffused of all light.
so close your eyes and follow my energy,
because a life devoid of drinking up your stare would be
life-less.

decrease in words

you stab a fork in my heart
and eat it like a ravenous man would
after starving for a week, or eating his last meal.
you salt it for taste and spite,
to hurt me more.
the nerves are still attached
and i can still feel.

--

i attempt to savor the
umami set before me.
a mold-able two-by-four,
i errupt, claiming it mine for just one night
and fall, regrettably responsible for returning it,
upset that i must give it back to the real world.
but so free spirited is the wooden plank
he is a butterfly, transformed, spreading its wings.

..

sinking deeper under the sea of exhaustion
drowning.
too tired to inflate my lungs
asphyxiating.
i can feel my brain cells pop
disappear.
diffusing under pressure
lights-out.
straining to keep a mind shutting down,
running.
unconsciously walking through a conscious world,
zombified.
i notice nothing, care for nothing,
desensitized.
my skin peeled back, banana, revealing my raw
insides.
i cannot function this way,
i function this way everyday.

here's the fucking truth

my life is a slimy, salty sea
whose density is inconstant.
i either float above the deep blue
on a bed of sodium chloride
or surrender, sink into its depths
consumed by thoughts and doubts.

every week, a roller coaster
though less daunting then my companion's
we use our brains to over-think
instead of just: think.
my current grocery list:
self-conscious
self-hate
close-minded
social anxiety
depression
philosophy
fear.
i am finally plugged in.
almost as if a new part of my brain has turned on
something i had never thought before,
now dominant.

figures with narrow pelvic brims
strong muscles,
bigger hyoid bones
i've come to believe that i am their puppet.
eighty percent of my happiness, in their hands
if i am not constantly pursued by at least one
i am lost.
what is this terrible truth?
why does it surround me, control me?
all i wish is to beat it,
overcome it.

i fear the traveling hand,
the palm's extensions that hunger for adventure,
for discovery.
i fear wandering cornea and lenses
being judged and used and exposed
the very act that society deems in two extremes:
as something meaningless
as something unspeakable.
i fear you who has done it,
whose body reeks with invisible odeur
emanates with a dirt-filled aura
i cannot stand the thought of being second
(or third or fourth...)

brain, no longer reeling
when i rest at night, alone except for
my thoughts to keep me company
i return to one lonesome thought
swimming in cerebrospinal fluid
basking in the warmth of firing neurons..
we are all living just to die.
on our deathbed
we wont look back on a full life
and be happy for what we did.
we will look back
and severely miss everything that made us happy
for we're going to a place
where nothing's tangible, or possible
or touchable or thinkable
ever again.

nothing i can do

i'm trying my very hardest to feel-
but it's not easy.
nihilism is eating at my core
i wish on my lucky star there is someone who can
pull me from under this
save me from consumption,
but the quick sand aint so quick.
i've got time to think this over
no need for panic.
13 hours i've been awake
3 milligrams of melatonin bathing in my stomach acid.
my eyes are no body builders,
no weight to induce drooping
maybe it's just my brain reeling.

it's funny
i've never felt so awake at such a period of unrest
it's unsettling to say the least
downright earth shattering, in fact.

all i need is someone
who can show me meaning in
everything

i'm glad i have this back

i just wanna live in my own world
unconsumed by everyone
with red ruled arms
and a clear head
thoughts and conscious swimming on a blue sea,
softly buzzing like tiny bees.

i just want acceptance by you
but your silence is worrying me.
i'll be good for you if you're good to me
but your tainted centrifugal force
sends me reeling away, hissing
arched cat-back and hair standing on end.
my skin crawls with dirt when i think of you
you with a sighing mouth beneath you
am i right minded in being picky,
or is my brain tricking me, only to save my heart?

thoughts as of late

everything in my life is slipping
farther and farther away from my conscious
understanding.

thin, dry lips slick over teeth.
his smile lines look like gyri
mountain ranges
fluffy, pillowy epithelial ridges.
i want to run my fingers over his age lines
like a blind person reading braille,
i could determine his age.
i bet his skin, sensory-sweet
underneath my fingertips
would quench my thirst.
a beautiful but starkly proper figure in my life.

my brain is constantly over-thinking
i connect lips and read eyes, eyebrows, mouths
if they deceive my own emotions
their shape eats away at me for hours.
it's impossible to do anything without
worrying it was wrong.
intimacy tastes sour on my tongue
but i put it upon myself to give it a try.
maybe i'm to expectant of its ease;
i'll never know.
i feel like a boot with worn shoelaces
that keep getting tied, untied and retied.
is my brain subconsciously keeping me from this?
or am i really just surrounded with
nightmares?

today, i faced death
and it made me want to cry-
how can it be, to not exist?
i can't wrap my head around it.

poison spit

right now
i feel like i never want to sleep, ever again.
i don't deserve the break from mental torment.
my cingulate gyrus, malfunctioning
entirely absent?
my ankle is still twisted
and it never will be fixed;
a physical manifestation of my entire existence.

standing behind two pillars i'm so drawn towards,
i listen to the words of a master
and a veteran romantic
my breath heavy from all the emotion.
Parkinson's;
A man's hand trembles like the waves of the ocean
my lip trembles with it
from pity, fear, compassion
He is constantly trying to steady it
you don't need to see his face to sense the anguish.
the veteran romantic warbles about her dead husband
i sigh.

a couple weeks ago i picked a sunflower
he smiled at me and produced precious stones
his pollen tickled my nose.
i loved him, but rootless, he withered away
i care more than i could ever say.
i try
and shy
away from beauty such as this
but when i allow it, it always winds up in decay
i never learn from my mistakes.

i don't want this, ever.
i'll say it again, i'm done with it.
i'll consume every one of your seeds
so nothing like you will ever grow again.
my stomach acid consumes any good you ever held.
I will treat every future potential like dirt beneath my feet
don't get too close, i'll stomp all over you like weeds.
crown me malicious gardener
my spit and sweat as liquid nutrients
the sun may shine on you, but it will never be warm
i'll enjoy your weak attempts to break the soil's surface

my sunburned chest begins to heave
perhaps i should stay indoors.

wish i could speak my mind
buried in makeup
sleepwalking through consciousness

slowly consume me
je t'aime

he died

my eyes, two bird wings
two almonds, two octopi
two eggplants.

my bottom canines match one another,
perfect copies.

my open jaw's a prism
its rainbow pours over my berlin wall
and what comes out is never a connection
of my thoughts into speech
properly, at least.

my teeth rubbing against one another
is the most beautiful symphony i've ever heard
i close my eyes and see a big top
its symbolic of my thoughts
as the shaman flicks his smoke to create
words of the future.

this institution is polluting my mind
its devastated frequenters clog its wide arteries
and the vibes it emits
have got me down.

how does the sun shine
on an afternoon like this?

returning

seagull's a sharp contrast against the grey dismal sky
with a sunset orange snack in its pointed beak
i watch it fly and i lock up inside
with my nose and eyes pointed to the sky
the cold freezes my jaw but so does the scene
and orange giants wheeze by so close
that i can sense them without sight.
they're almost touchable.

the branching spines look like palm trees
but how could they, so covered in snow?
an oxymoronic, hysterical sight
the snow clods thud to the earth
gracious to gravity
and you giggle.

the air is warmer with snow on the ground
and you wonder how
must be precipitation in the atmosphere
fornicating insulation.

everything seemed complicated after that day
but perhaps i just finally opened my eyes

i'm unsure if i can do this
but i know i can still speak:
he is a little intricate diamond
and my eye catches his light always.
the other pillar, so physical
i shy away, i am ruined for this.