Forced ResponsibilityShoulders collide as wewalk a line that stretchesbeyond frost and delicateglass expectations;the discontented hum of the massesexacerbates headaches causedby the ever-rising tide ofa standard of living.Is it really too much to considerthat the things that are spinning outyour patience on a broken spoolare the very same things thatsave rubber and spokes from disaster,and your heart from rupturingunder the pressure of forced responsibility?
She was hisHope can be dragged through memoriesand ice skate blades; it can begracelessly covered with clothesthat mismatch the seasons, butit butterflies inside her chest with a simplebrush of chastened skin.
MetamorphosisI wrote you a letter -tried to phrase a suicide note,but instead came outwith words that butterfly with hopeand blades that divide decisionsand not wrists. It spoke of love,of that quiet desperation that I feelwhen I am waiting for you to meet my glance,your averted eyes poised with concentration. It spokeof how long I waited to build a lifetimewith you, and how in many ways I still am.It spoke of promises that balloon as uncontrollablyfrom my chest as panic sometimes drums frommy feet. But mostly,it spoke of the destructive power of trust;moment by moment, you destroy my barriers. Imutilate beyond repair.
I'm not much of a poet.I'm not much of a poet when I talk abouthow the sun rises and sets andsends tendrils of fire across the sky, orhow flower petals lift their faces toward morningwith a beauty uncapturable, unfolding eager petalsinto the waiting feet of frost-laden bees, oreven how your smile curves so carefullyacross the distance between us that it reminds mehow unfair it is to hate you for things you cannot change -I'm not much of a poet. I will never find the wordsto properly describe the feelings you bubble withinmy blood vessels, the taste of your devotion as itsweetens my tongue, the smell of your disgraceas it sours my thoughts of you.
DefeatStars splinter the sky,glowing against cloudswith obstinate brilliance -I flame out beneaththe deflated sun.
RemorseI am riding high ona cloud of angel's dust,cajoling almost-forgottenregrets and half-heartedpromises from beneathstubborn finger joints;the light of dawn singesmy shattered wing bones.
LongingI unfurl behindcareful eardrums,hearing your comatose heartbeatslow my own.We are brokenby decisions and movement.We are bleeding outfrom between the slotsof my ribs, and youare sobbing pulsebeatsthrough sleeping veins.Will we crumble? Will wedisintegrate into fantasiesand childhood daisy chains?I am longing for the daysof holding hands againstthe concrete, making basement angelsout of glowing lights andpool cue fingers, wastingcountless sunsets getting tangledin numbers and arms and rehearsalsand legs.I am longing for the daysof leaping because we can,and never looking back.My nerves are clinging to yourson top of tired skin. You areslipping from their grasp,but at least I canalways find youby the sounds of your dreamsdripping through the weeds.
Daybreaksunlight punctures,splits open the sky in akaleidoscope of burnt twilight
Consequences Be DamnedSheglows witha secretknowledge; and theelectricity whispers through dancingirises; I am reminded of thedevastatingpower ofrecklesshope.
How To Disappear ConvincinglyHow To Disappear Convincingly 12/4/13I am no longer supposed to be here.I finally learned to completely disappear.I am mirrors and smoke,a very subtle hoax.A shadow you thought was there,but when you looked wasn't anywhere.A deceptive feeling that makes you thin.The sharpest point of a minuscule pin.I am a translucent bubblethat envelops your thinking.I am nothing but troubleas your hope is sinking.I have learned to makemy skin turn to vapor.I am flat and thinlike white smooth paper.I'm a transparent sheet.The sharp edge of a razor.A blazing fire's heat.The electric shock of a Taser.I am all the things that you forget.I'm an imprint in the soft sand.I'm the invisible fuel stream of a jet.I'm the deafening sounds of an air band.I'm a wisp of cloud that's barely there.A vacant house - an empty chair.I'm a wind blown plastic bag.See-through cellophane.I am online lag.A shallow pain.A dull ache.A bruised brain.A dried up lake.A soft rain.I am an ap
Moon Shardsabove spiderweb iciclesI hang colored glass shards--a rainbow of moons
1,001 NightsIn a land ofdreams and dust:the curve ofa half-hazed sun,devoured.
The Way I See ItBeyond the train window,Vague impressions of buildingsFly past,But they might as well beMountains in Colorado.I can see Christmas lightsBest when they're tangled;They're like fireflies,GlitteringIn all their splendor.A silhouetteIs all I need to knowAbout a person;I see no blemishes.I've always wonderedWhy height, weight,Skin color,Or disfigurementEver mattered to anyone.We arePerfectIn our imperfections.You see,You may see the forestFor the trees,But I see itInches at a time,And though I sometimesMourn my loss of sight,I find the world isWondrousThe way I see it.
AsphodelA beckoning:watercolour sky shrinking,too late, teeth fall; pearlsfrom a broken string.Blink and the moon ignites—but the sheets are stillenvelope-stiff.
shooting starThe space betweeneach star is a tragedywaiting to happen --and you fallfrom the skyall too easily.
starting over.i wantto cup my hands and catchhoney dripping from everysunrise;feed new days to the soiland watch empires bloom,coated sticky-sweet insunshine andsecond chances.
DefenseReality lulled spirit, until dreams awoke.
lost memories between the sofa cushionsi found the lost boys under the sink again,their eyes boring as dark as a stygian night.black ink tallies were scrawled on their arms --an imaginary clock ticking life away in placeof the years they weren’t growing.they reach their hands out to me,beckoning, whispering the mantra“be our mother again, again, again...”but it was your words that echoed in my mind:even pixie dust isn’t strong enoughto help me fly anymore.
ps: i love youautumn is near and youare falling, fallen you are blowing away from me like dusti have shaken myselfout of your barbed wire gripand oh,i am cut to piecesmemories sing like sirensas you pour from my pores,and i will not cry,i will not let you change mei'm ripping you from my skinlike hot wax and plastersand you do not even hurtnot anymore
Be gentle, love.Be gentle,please.Some daysmy body is too heavyto inhabit,hollowed out andfilled back upwith empty;empty sadness,empty anger,empty fear.Be gentle, love.Be gentle andlet me lay here,still and silent,until my emptinessempties out.
AnaphoraI am from unanswered letters and retro postcards tucked into a hollow book. I am from clacking copy machines beaming white light and stagnant, chalky air. I am from soundproof recording rooms. I am from oven-baked toast dusted with cinnamon; from bergamot and earl grey; from German chocolate that I never eat. I am from dead leaves on campus walks and words of encouragement given on the corner of “you deserve it” and “I’m proud of you.” I am from stained dry-erase boards. I am from mountains of colors and valleys of fog. I am from strands of unworn necklaces and earrings I’m allergic to and rings too small for my fingers. I am from blue ink splotches on essays. I am from unstable brick pathways; broken elevators; distant parking lots; clouded windows. I am from frantic typing and nearly-missed deadlines.
incompletethere is a melodyinside this ribcagebut the worldhas stolen thebeat-there is a sadnessand an insanitythat is inherentin the momentswe fall apartbut a dignityand a beautyin every daythat we do not-spring has comebut i'm not sureif the flowers, yet,have bloomedor if the chillthawed-sometimes i thinkthere is a madnessin dancingto a melody alonebut i remembersometimes, that'sall there is left
With Rain on our TonguesI have been walking our oceans again,having held on forever to the hope of knowingthe dialogue of the tides.The clouds never spoke pounding melodies,only echoes into the nothing.The stars whispered a lie that tells the truth:You waited, praying to fireflies, andI wanted to be someone else.You're never touching anything,singing me oblivion and creating destinywith a void dance and erotic spills:eloquent tradition like petals and leaves.
i want to remember what love songs feel likevalentine,i will break you.you will be silent witnessto the way my heart swingsback and forth, back and forth,like a grandfather clockkeeping timeto the bombs i planted in my fingertips,everyone i touch gets hurt.this way, i have excuses not to get close to people.valentine,though i can see me breaking all vows for you;children i never meant to have,a life i would not have imagined for myself;sometimes you make me feel likea caged predator.all the anger i've learned,all the fight i hold buried in my throat,becomes useless.i become helpless.valentine,i broke you broke me broke up,kissed him a week later.i am not sorry.
if I could go back in timeit all started with a hello thatcame fl-fl-flittering frommy quivering, adolescent lipsand then we[tum] b l e dinto a hypersonicoblivion were me melted togetherin a symphonic mixof words and the distilledinks of dead poets.we g r e w and glowedand slowly we (I)fell deeper intouncharted waters thatmade my bones grow coldand my heartdrown with antic--pation.when you offered toshow me the very galaxies thatswirled in my faltering irises,when you splayedyour fingers againstmy spine and urged metoward the dancingconstellationswith your soft willow-whispersagainst my foolish earsI…I…I…panickedscared, I dashed awaylike a frightenedlamb in the eyesof God,leaving your armsempty andquakingwhile my heartscreamed bloodymurder from withinmy rusted prisonr
The way we do in dreamsI'll climb the highest mountain's crownin both the sun and moonlight's beams;I'll reach as far as I believeand live the way we do in dreams.No Earthly bonds will tie me down,no words will bend or break me,for we can be as fantasies:Let's love the way we do in dreams
Pianissimobluejay midflight, sunrise, birdsighs sound like a songsilhouette soaring, wings aflame with firstlightheat of timefriction, star strikes across skygolden wingspan, turned in for shadeperchhigh noon between the leaves, cool birchreenergize the glide, waftairswirl smooths the feathersthen abreast in duskhomeward, backlitdescensiondarknessrest
NightfallAnd the sun cracklesthe horizon into dustwhile the moon glidesslyly forward totaste the faded daylight.
(LOL, just a coincidence that I'm checking it and you're posting. )