little minnow

let us not forget, darling dear,
how each of us
is full of fear.
cross thy wrist
Enunciate.
awful tiny shred of fate!
a confession wrought
thin lines in chalk,
and streams of tepid tears.

mignon

i nick i pick i pry
i twitch i slip i lie
i miss i drip i cry
i flinch i rip i sigh

I don't know how to express myself?

obviation

lay me down
let me weep
for i must
my soul to keep.
blushing bruising,
slips and settles.
under skin,
nestled nettles.
little steps,
wrung out neck.
do not cry child,
you'll be next.

kitten

i am a pet of mine.
a quiet whistling sense of time.
bordering neatly on the lip
into which, my soul it drips.
restless rustling rounded deep,
oh how does it moan and weep.
but nothing hurts and nothing helps,
quite like a twisted sense of self.

mother may i

it tears little bits.
gnawing at ankles.
picking at scabs.
tiny wisps of suggestion.
it seeps out in fits.
you can see the decay in the way the light leaks out from under
each door we close between us.
the claws dig in,
every word cuts deeper
deeper!
a ribbon of flesh.
a sliver of skin.

you, me, and everyone we know

may there never be one thing
quite like how this day feels on the outside
may i never nearly forget
how my emotions rust, breathing in dust
and how every single sunset seems red


=====

I hate mornings,
a cliché trend to be sure, but why not?
But it's not really morning
so I hate mid-mornings, and pre-noons,
and possibly noons, afternoons, and evenings.
(I'll have to tell you when I get there.)

But that's not really what I wanted to write about.
I wanted to write about beauty and trivialities,
and sadness.
In words that would make you weak,
Read with a sigh and a sinking heart.

But that's not really what I wanted to write about.

Things are odd when you're not thinking.
It's funny how, when your mind's working.
It's nearly impossible to say anything at all.
The words drag their feet
clawing at your throat, but only in the wrong direction.
In desperation you'll force yourself to choke them out
But then they're all mixed up, and you forgot what you wanted to say anyway.
And it couldn't of mattered if you couldn't say it in the first place.

just leave it

so now lets lay in bed and listen to my
joints crack back into place
oh what can i do?
there are no words yet.
my feelings are a loaded gun,
hot and heavy in your hand.
crack. crack. crack.
just one more sleeping land mine.

let's go live on the moon my darling

you, me, and the cat.

in a moon house, breathing fresh moon-air.

our children will play,

on moon hills

and in moon gardens we'll grow

the most beautiful moon flowers.

everything will be exactly how you pictured it.

I don't know what I'm writing nowadays.

you're always on my mind, up down sideways in the sunlight.

we're never alone, you're my insides.

knotted devastatingly in veins and arteries

beating out iloveyou in every tha-thump tha-thump

on my sleeve.

wrong.

i want the earth to spin off orbit,
hurtling millions of miles to a new sun.
i want nuclear winter,
and enough hot cocoa to last us till were dead.
i want me and you,
under blankets, skin burning , limbs touching.
we'll watch the planets fly by
sipping hot cocoa,
and i'll tell you i still love you,
no matter what the aliens think.



(are we the aliens now?)

Question: what kind of bear is best?

heartstrings knotted, 

delicately agonizingly beautiful

soft limbs. Lips.

emotions so tangled,
so terribly crossed,

lungs expanding,
vocal chords fused-
a broken bit
of me and you.

#

maybe this is it. 
all you need now is one more hit.

normality is for suckers and I took the bait

What I haven't got is the chance to live inside of your life for a while

I don't deny you are my drug of choice.
your words are the high I keep on
chasing.
but god,
the crash is hell.

alive! I swear it.

i woke up gasping for air,

lungs short circuited, heart exploding.

i feel death in the walls of this house.

my blue eyed boy,

climb out the window and down the hill

with no one but me.

eyes wide, fingers entwined,

running into the sun.

this must be love,

dripping into cracks in the sidewalks.

making the flowers wake up, turning faces to the sun.

let's keep running

till we're gasping for air

lungs short circuited, hearts exploding.

it must be love.

I don't know what else it could be.

quiver

tear it up and spit it out,
all these things I worry about.
kiss me once more like you mean it,
I want more than anything for you to be my knife, and
tell me how to stop making these long drives home.
tell me how to keep you
tell me I mean as much to you
as everything else does.

x

loving you is like pulling my own teeth,
I'm just getting what I deserve.
keep on telling me that this will never end my blue eyed dove
"this is what we get for looking down,
it's all just your happiness turned into sound"

this green ghost

seven years,
and you finally understand the way your parents used to fight.
life tarnishes your heart until you can't bring yourself to use it.
every night it breaks into your home,
climbs in bed,
wraps it's long fingers around your head.
we thought you could make it on your own,
but all you could do is head back home.
she said this is what comes of wanting to be dead
you'll never get it right until you do.
in the end this ghost is mine and mine alone.

you can only take what you can carry

you are the decay inside my cells.

you are the things that belong to no one else.
and it's been a long time since I made my peace with misery,
but I still end the nights,
dripping
after an hour of scalding my own skin,
trying to shower away this horrible taste in my mouth.

I am waiting to stop waiting

we spend years filling up who we are when we are alone.
carefully choosing paint to match the couch cushions.
carpet that affirms the reasons we got a dog.
but today the paint is peeling off the wall.
the dust is thick on the floor
(and I promise you I'll keep a cleaner house,
if only I know you will be coming home.)
we sleep in separate rooms.
every night you pick up the pieces of plate in the dining room,
and I doze, more alone with myself than ever before.
but I cannot blame us for anything any more,
not even for the oil spill spreading
in the sea of this relationship.

wisteria in the water

it is becoming too much, my darling,

spending all our days softly shut in a still cocoon.

if we don't block it out the world will eat all our air. 

so instead out of this quiet porch

we conceive ourselves a room to burn in.

the ash gets in our lungs and eyes

and invents for us another blanket.

gallant

sitting in the room
drinking up our wounds
your words are too thin and sharp
they fill your mouth like another row of teeth.
the light it swings
my eyes are shut
it catches us in corners
"Nothing is ever good enough."
you leave home and it is the most terrifying thing you've ever done.
take me with you,
just let yourself slosh around in my insides
test out the limbs, press against the back of the skin
you wanted a camera for christmas,
and the secret to never being alone.
Welcome Home.

limbo

we live in the spaces between dead leaves on the front lawn

limbs askew 

twisting among the dew

we live in the lines of my palm, 
we decay this way.

tenderly severing our last latent chords
from weary limbs.

"Can you just tell me why ?"

--


"and I am not a saint
just a sinner who sometimes makes mistakes."