Sundropssundropsonto skin thatshiversthe golden glowfallsinto everythingmeltsaway from the sunand the slivers of lightslide to earthas angelsto becomethe gods of love
22 Degree Halothe windowpanescold reflections of yourtoo-sharp morningsblankets, gracethrown downuntil they stare from the streetglasses, dregs dodgingyour tippy-toefeetdraw the curtains on the sunits lightleaching, reachingthroughto steal your haloat 22
Dirty Sheetsmy bed still smellsof hair andcigarettesstale-sweet alcoholand moisturizer onskinlike the smell ofheatagainst cold airwasnt enoughfor me to leave withouttakingpart of you with me
But if Shebut if shewhere there's none of her,carved paths in mindin mineremained hollowpassing, pastall but a greeting,those feelingthese unfamiliar,these underlying,communicatingfor her namemuch less, a facein memorywhere she might returnwhere I could only remainbut,if shehad made me stay
Tensionstrangerboy, youre allshouldersback pressed into the seatjaw linehardand straight anddisappears, surrounded byoneperfectlayercurves under to touchgracecovetyour throatstrangerwatch the show soI cant see yourfaceI want to know youlose this tensionon youchest tighter foreach way each strandfallsstrangerI want tocurl fingerscurlthem intoyour long redreal rednatural hair
Grandma's SandalsWith my eyes closed that little plastic circle is silver, and that nylon yellow shift, yeah. Thats gold.Theres nothing like it; youre not, that I know. Dressed up for pretend, ugly dirt-scrubbed toes curled over the end of grandmas sandals. Dead-persons clothes.Your tiaras cracked, a terrible sphincter opened were there was once a rosy pink jewel. Its there like its responsible for what youll grow to live; nothing but shit and the stench of pot. Its even there in daddys car, just a part of the fabric; its probably seeped right into your bones.The look of your hair, like maybe I hope child services will take you away. Filthy, sickening blonde, thin and lank and unclean; its how you say monsters stay, even if they bathe. As if youre posing as one of them, to prove to me they do exist, its there, I swear to you, look again. Please, just-One of your drawings is picked up by the wind and is tossed
FingersFingers lift to his mouth, cigarette caught by gentle lips and his eyes close for the seconds he wants to ignore. With the lights out, sunshine, red hot against his eyelids has left the room there anyway, the window, the table, the door. He still cant hear her breathe but feels her chest rise, her shoulders fall against his chest.Frightened, he drops his arm to the couch as if the seconds had become a moment stretched too long; he looks. Taps the crumbling ash into a glass before it falls and hurts her. Burns her.Lips pressed just slightly open by his thigh, her soft body follows. Ups and downs he lives to trace with hands, with eyes, with anything; hes caught wanting to wake her. Lifts fingers to his mouth.She shifts in her sleep; breasts no longer crushed together, her elbow slips off the cushion. Her hand hitting the carpet shocks her, and as she stretches it reaches blindly for his hair. Curls right in and pulls him to her, he abandons the cigarette in favour of thos
StrangersGive me a minute.They know itll be longer, but hes walking away, past the waxen grey expressions, the swollen black balloons. Hes silent beneath the eulogy, soft and distant words fashioned for strangers, falling on blind ears. He knows its all pretend because really, what is there to say? And even the too-light coffin, the box of mahogany and plastic, the bed of white velvet lining and the brass handles and opal inset design; even thats deception, empty and wasted. Itll rest deep below his feet soon, beside the corpse of a teenager and the yellowed bones of a disenchanted poet, unoccupied as it, too, returns to the earth.He little understands this hollow gesture, this lascivious ceremony, but knows its for the strangers. They cling to death, adore it, use it for all the human struggle it superficially adorns them with. Someones mother, lover, brother, friend. Death to them is commercial, a way to pretend to seem real. Real
Personal Reflexthe ripping formslong forgotten, longsince let goshe'sunprecedentedshe'slost all meaningjust a gaping partof past, hooklineand dormantwaits, impatientfor emergenceand becomesengulfing, meshes instinctual, itbecomes me
ReflectionI want to sprinkle a piece of meInto bit-code hoping it sticks.But no one cares about the truthUnless it's funny.And I've lost sight Of what that is;I've been taught that it's all relative.We're all irrelevant in the endAnd so, the fire that use to burn in my heartIs all Charcoal. And I've been tryingTo see with no eyes; to drive withNo direction.But now I know I want to meltTogether people's 90 degree angles,Until the world knows everyone's rights.I want to melt together the distanceThat separates prose and poetry;Fact and Fiction; light and darkness.
Dead or alive?I feel numbAnd coldIs this death?Or am I still alive?If I'm aliveI shouldn't beBecause death is betterThan this cursed lifeTo dieTo sleepNo more
He only dates broken girls.I will destroy you. I willmake you love mewithout even trying;you’ll love the scabson my knees, the bruisesunder my eyes, mysinged hair. You will lovethe rush of holdingmy hand as we crossthe bridge; you’ll feellike a hero each timeI don’t jump. You will buyme chocolates, the mostexpensive, to guilt meinto eating. You will buyme seeds instead of flowers,to give me a reason toget up in the morning. Youwill make me dependent,even as I feed your whiteknight complex. I will destroymyself, and so you,and you will know why storms are named after people.
Ignorant WisdomThe best of us die youngWhy?We are blood and bodyMind and muddled matterThat decays from the very airNecessary like an addictionOur eyes are skin and sinewSenses intaking a surfaceBut to the machine of faultsWhat is there lost to us?The best of us are of willAs what will be passed beliefThe demanding of subconsciousEdicts of the soulThen why do they die?Why must a will be severedWhen it drives our existenceAll that there isAnd will ever represent us?Why do vessels feed the muscle?Bones hold up our legsAnd a head with strong neckThat its aspirations rise?The best of us accomplishTasks of a higher calibreLike a barrel of the cannonOne volley into the starsThey undertake with all motiveAnd lose the unwinnable conditionFor through their demarcationRevitalize our weak heartsThe best of us die youngWhy?Because they are not usAnd remind us what we should beThrough the greatest leagueOf history's lessonsThey sacrifice their chance to liveAs watcher of the
While You Were SleepingWhile you were sleepingCells clusteredto whisper about you jealouslyin their tiny little chain gangbefore poppingpoppoppoppoppop -bigger, badder, better.While you were sleepingThey cementedtheir undying bond of friendshipand every face hardenedbefore poppingpoppoppoppoppop -sadder, snider, solid.While you were sleepingconspiracies rose and fellwith your breathand They rustled with laughterbefore poppingpoppoppoppoppop -more, malicious, mayhem.While you were sleepingCancer shoved over other kidsin the playgroundand took their placebefore poppingpoppoppoppoppop -suddenly, so, scared.While you were sleepingyou were overrunand we can fight it, of course,with artilleries in the arteriespoppingpoppoppoppoppop -we'll, wield, weaponsbut while you were sleepingthey took a misered,bleak,first victory;poppingpoppoppoppoppop -into tumultous, tumourtuous, laughteras you lay undefendedand they captured your heart.
coming of agethere are parts of meyou can still hearon the radio;at first, you'll mouththe words, but youwon't be able to tellif the static touchingyour ears rests inmemory, and memory alone.my love is not leagues deep.you'll always be the oneto decide if i'm worth standingin up to the ankle,lukewarm and lapping,or if you'd like to sleepbeneath my shores, milesbelow discernible life.the long lesions scoringthe belly of my pridehave scabbed over,and trust me when i sayi clench my fists uponremembering those who havebruised me in the nameof disgust -trust me when i saymy teeth are baredand i am snarling,the blood from past fearsstaining my lips.
Wingswe're well enoughto stand aloneholding ownpast the coldwe're alivetogether wholestitched up soulwings spreadwe're goneinto nightleaving lighthold onwe're bledrun drytime to flyangel mine