love buzz light

​

if i could somehow free

those thoughts that linger in my mind

shedding profound light on unexperienced emotion

those words that wax then wane, forever waiting to be heard in the cavern of my throat

those glances that display the light you’ve illuminated within me

but are at once pulled away from your gaze

eyes closed, nervous laughter

perhaps then you would comprehend

the devotion and affection

that has crept into my thawing soul

the intensity and fear and vigor and adventure

crashing in with the morning light, skipping over your skin

intruding with each intoxicating instant by your side

enveloping me in life and love and laughter and lust

i long to capture this mysterious new thing

to keep us enfolded in stars and midnight kisses

in music and flesh and breath into breath whispers of secrets and truth

in the inebriation of us

and just us

and that could be enough

released unto the world like fireflies exploding against the night sky

swirling and swooning and feeding off each other’s love buzz light

 

existing in our own little world, and fighting the good fight

​

 

 

season of sleep

 

when it happened,

i felt the disappointment

washing over me

like surprisingly

uncomfortably

cold water

unwelcome on my skin

i tried to explain the sounds

to you

the way the notes

rose with subtlety

then dropped again

like a needle 

onto carpet

t1he way the far off distance

of unrecognized sounds

felt like sleeping under water somewhere

but you were wrapped in twisted patches

sleeping right beside me

your bones stained and shadowed

with childish games

created

to connect

in some way

other than the physical piecing together

of our bodies

when it happened

the house shook with fear

before the paralysis

settled in

and i crawled deep within my skin

to tune out

the screeching tires in the street

the crying children

and the deafening bruises

that bloomed so easily

like softness on fruit

the day rose

with sepia overtones

reminding me of something

that should have been frighteningly beautiful

but really was just frightening

demanding our fatigue

with glimpses of a sky

not so black

and rambunctious

and roaring

desiring our attention

as our lives were torn apart

you lay silent

still breathing, sleeping, dreaming

still entangled in my limbs

like branches of a tree

and i stared at your eyelids

while the humidity dripped from the ceiling

and i pictured all the ways

that the past could have been avoided

curling into your body, i joined you

in something that felt like

an endless season of sleep

and outside, the wind was silent

and the basement slowly flooded

and the windows were all broken

​

​

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​

enveloped in impurities, a question never asked, a sentence never allowed to destroy my barrier of something resembling strength. it's like the nights we couldn't sleep, syrupy coca cola Icees and mouths connected like lost jigsaw pieces, watching the humidity bloom with the morning like honey, the sky streaked in smog . in my head, images of blue guitars and wrinkled fingers, on my skin, the smell of your touch still lingers, like that melody that remains on the tip of my tongue of virgins who once were silent because they didn't have a song. i cannot pull you out of this world, i wouldn’t even try. this world where the contrast is higher and you revel in letters from girls in soft sweaters with sad, milky eyes. Quiet girls in wigs and pearls who don't sleep or dream but wander endlessly through inky rooms in blood speckled lace, tiny wrists and and gaping mouths. you sit like a statue next to me, cementing the old photo still of empty perfection across your softly flushed face, never letting go of the bricks you build around yourself each day, never letting reality get in your idealistic way. the salt of a night too long, too afraid, bathes your neck in a desperation that sparkles like diamonds. . don't go through with it. not yet. not here, not now, not ever.. stay with me, in my head, and I promise I'll find a way to save us. thoughts too extreme to express in examples of what they all think is love. untitled emotions reaping havoc beneath my ribcage, withdrawing me from accuracy but only half the time, only words that don't rhyme. i cannot explain what i couldn't have said, though you begged for the thoughts screaming inside of my head. vases shattering in my words, i wish i could find a way to show you the fragility of the moment when you said you couldn't look at me. please don't confuse this jumbled array of misguided words as anything but an attempt to make you understand how much i value you. eyes too deep to see through, words too simple to make sense of, the world is at our disposal and i am reaching for your comfort.

 

 

skin like bruised peaches

​

Sara has skin like bruised peaches

and says she has the taste of quarters in her mouth

every monday when the bad boys come in

 

Sara was told a year ago that anyone, no, everyone

looks better when they're unfed

lying strung out in her canopy bed

in the headless mannquin's jewelry

 

sara lives in a fractured doll house

and leaves behind trails of blood pouring from her mouth

while her father sleeps unshaven before the tv every night

except for when he enters her room

and says, “my little girl,  don't fight.”

​

 

the static is blaring within my head

and would you please, please change the channel?

 

this town is shrinking in on us

and i can see disfigurement

in the spider cracks

on the celing

while Sara sees nothing but more

tossing through infantile points in time

trying to think of words that rhyme

with empathy

 

and self-inflicted salvation

is eating through our minds

​

 

​

in melancholy town

​

he told me, i told you so, as he lay stirring his caffeinated beverage, hypnotically spiraling my spineless frame , objectifying me through every graceful bludgeon of pattern-esque rotation. Im a stupid girl taking stabs in the dark.

 

I always find myself laying on the ground, searching for answers in radio signals

 

This, is when im most vulnerable, debating whether or not I should.

 

God I cannot let myself get older, older in this neighborhood.

 

Im sleeping with our paradox and I understand now,

 

how killing myself hurts less than leaving the door shut.

 

her face is thinner when he’s pressed it against the ground

 

Another negation in melancholy town.

 

an orchestral brilliance without any sound

 

I found my way back inside myself,

 

while he said she said, please, just listen,

 

i realize impressionistic love is every inquisition

 

and the final resignation of learning how to heal.

 

I always find myself laying on the ground, searching for answers in radio signals

 

this is when i am at my weakest, debating whether or not i should

 

Oh, how lovely chaos tastes tonight.

 

Miss. Overzealous antichrist.

​

​

​

untitled

​

14 and counting, was it all it was cracked up to be, kid?

yeah, we all know the answer. things happened too fast, like a memory's blur of a dream you fight to forget. Just lay their with his hand over your lips and let him do what he does best. don't even try to stop it, he's never going to drop it, just close your eyes and clutch your locket and let him steal your purity....everyone pretends to fight but only a handful of pills gets them through the night, purposely entangling ourselves in webs of apprehension. We pout our lips and smoke candy cigrarettes and feast on what is defined as regret. where were you when i needed to feel something more? miles away on a shining stage while I wrapped myelf in opium smoke and bleeding days and nights of nauseating laughter, erasing all of what was left of my childhood morality. i stayed here in this despicable town and cried myself to sleep when you weren't around., writing you into dozens of unfinished journals, thinking that I could make you real. Thinking that you actually feel a part of me within your heart, pleading for you to play with me while you got drunk on being free

this intolerability to accept the reality of this that is life is displayed through perpetual chills and shaking knees. Can't you feel the growing cold, will you leave me to grow sick and old? There is no cure for it. It's all bullshit. don't try to explain you to me when we both know you thrive on impracticalities. every syllable out of your mouth is just bad poetic tripe, well-read and oh so reeking of rehearsed responsibility. you throw your tantrums and pour out words and fool everyone, it's absolutely absurd, but you cannot fool me. you never have. back into the days when we morphed into fantasy and i was you and you were me......there was never a part of you that i didn't see and understand, hiding aggression in your clenched hands .and still i wonder what it is that sets us so far apart, this thinning cord imprisoning our two black and bleeding hearts

​

​

 

christmas trees

 

I drag my feet heavily

as if i'm only now learning how to walk

one foot, two foot

don't touch, don't look

christmas trees like fragile bodies

stranded, lifeless out in the street

like charred ribcages

that once were beautiful

before all that water

mother nature's “work” at hand

from all those bodies

that once touched each others lives

then that painful, reverberating silence

of chances that were never given

this city's long been dying to save the living

stretched out before the levees

like a charity whore

buildings broken and forgotten

bodies swollen and raw

in the smoky, dead grey of winter

something has got to give

is this the way you'll live

when they're all gone and dead?

profanities spilling from your head

reach back from memory within

and count slowly from one to ten

to a time when these streets

were familiar

and alive

now no longer adventurous 

but maps to disfigurement

blooming from the pavement

like the veins that have finally surfaced

a textbook example of repetitive reality

a little too close to  famed fatality

get a hold, get a grasp

and let's see which one of us will last

forever

​

​

​

untitled

​

it's your constant need to feed on me

your willingness to be fucked up and free

your tendency to forget so easily

you couldn't have done shit if it weren't for me

 

another night devoted to quenching your thirst

another night of furiously fucked up firsts

there's so little that i have to further explain

just shut your mouth and trace your veins

keep quiet this time

maybe you'll learn the game

tomorrow will be different

yeah, tomorrow you'll find

a different way to reach that state of mind

and you'll be so satisfied

so filled with enough and then, of course, we'll kick

and get off this stuff

but tomorrow never seems to come

and we just re-do all that's been undone

ignoring the signs, the patterns, the routines

because we are just feisty little fucking fiends

somehow your innocence never seems real

somehow you've managed to not have to feel

why isn't everyone doing this?

Don't they know that this exists?

If you could access heaven, wouldn't you go today?

and throw out your ethics along the way?

This is love and light and truth

this is the portrait of my youth

this is freedom, this is fun

this is crawling after you've already learned to run

my darling girl, where did she go?

best friends turned into your fiercest foes

 

and your naivety never pretends

to be anything but what it really is

aged and redundant

spreading through and through

sadly the only thing

i've come to depend on in you

​

 

 

bi-weekly breakdown

 

somehow

you unfurled

leaving behind all of the inane prospects

of your past

shifting between that old boring balance

and your biweekly breakdown

writhing to fit between the cracks

dimming out

dumbing down

your philosophies

to fit with hers

so that in time, inevitably

naive expectations

led you here

enveloped in disappointment

pale girls with massive, blue eyes

who starved themselves

in the middle of the night

immortalized on paper

written in to all your lies

did you think that you 

could make her real?

did you think that possibly

you might feel

something other than a a fucked up fantasy

written in a children's book

silly of me to ask

i know.

you live between her pages and words

floating in space

and fighting disease

or on this shattered earth writhing in pain

with me

choking on mistakes,

ignoring the pleas

of an inevitable, appalling reality

turn the page!

come to.

come to.

 

you're enabling

that dreaming sense of adventure

...cradling the familiar infantile vision

twenty two and alive

darling, head on collision

​

 

easter sunday

​

picture this. my crumpled hand inside your fist. easter sunday and the streets are parting for us like silver lockets with nothing inside. déjà vu keeps happening again and again. i keep losing track of where i really am. i tried to catch a fleeting shadow i saw of you, but your profile evaporated into the hot, sticky concrete, and besides, maybe i was dreaming inside of this perpetual fever and it was never real at all. skin peels in layers from sunburns of summers past , and all the sounds of my childhood were born in the spring of '93. sweet olive and hairspray. coffee and sawdust on his fingers, carved from petrified wood, i guess. And you...you pulled the wings from insects and i'd named every one. you hid under your bed from the noon day sun. i could see your eyes peeking out from the delirious darkness as i walked over the creaking floors to my side of the world. 

the clouds cave into themselves and i am back to this century again. sad songs rattle from white

trash trailer cages down the street. i can hear every note but her words melt into one crumbling, sad syllable. I watch as the beautiful children of a drunken generation next door run through the dead, rotting grass and laugh, form their fingers into pistols and wipe out the garbage pail children from the alleys, massive, untainted eyes rolling back into their spotted skulls, grass stains on their knees. they wrap their fingers around each others' fingers, invisible tattoos of mountain dew energy on their stained, angelic faces and fleshy inner elbows. it's been so long since i've seen the pretty, pearlescent shine of those oysters reflect the high noon sun, face up in the water in some pretend paradise that's always just out of reach, but those savage storms keep raining down on us and flooding the bayous with muddy blues and browns and subtle sounds of the monsters behind those clouds in the sky to the point where this nightmare has become too real to deny. I listen to the trains pass and picture running away from this sinking shit-hole town, if only my scarred legs could hold my weight, if only I wasn't always just one minute too late. I'd never tell my mother these fantasies. I just grin and bite my tongue and wrap myself in some disease that eats me from the inside out. She smoothes my hair and says I was the perfect little girl because I created my own little world where I wasn't asking for her hand. That perfect, little world crumbled years ago, shaking the earth as my imagination and ideas littered a new side of this rocky street. If only I could find a man to plant his corrupt seed within me so I could lose the precious little life beneath my belly, then at least I could say that I tried. Just another person who died from this culmination of a “life.”

​

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