You Buy Me A SodaYou've got the friction in your shoulder blades to start a forest fire,and a lot of things can be divine sometimes."Get off your skin," she said. "You never liked coffee anyway."
Is it like today?Pulling out the kind of nature that only your ankles can touch,you guess God's name and tell me how similar we look without any skin."Hush, darling," you said. "We don't have to share the same universe today."
We are far too young and clever.I am of other suns than you,and in the light all I can see are your shadows. He asks, "What's gotten into you lately?"and she says, "Obviously not you."
The face you make is priceless.I've got wrists like empty pockets,and a spine I made out of your weekly pay.You crack open my bones, and scour for the loose change.
Swallow My AstronomyHe had a black hole for a mouth,and eyes like the dying stars that I would never collide with."Speak me the universe," I told him.He laughed, and swallowed my galaxy.
Cheap Talk"My body is a language," she said. "Can't you read?"
I'm not listening anyhow.Make them believe thatAll the people in the world areSomething beautifulThat only you and I canUnderstand when we close our eyes andRun so far away with our thoughts like aBuzz in the back of our brains becauseAnatomy is something that we still haven'tThought too much aboutIn the dark behind our eyelids that willOnly visit us whenNo one else is around.
Soy Sauce for the Closed MindYou've got hips like an avalanche,and a body made of fortune cookie philosophy.She says, "Take your head off when you're talking to me. inbedinbedinbed."
I won't tell anyone.Mouths made of masturbation, and eyes like dying stars,you aim for something short of profanity.
You Deserve to SmileDo what you have to do to be happy.Eat an entire chocolate cake,Swallow all the pills you need to take -'Medication' isn't a dirty word.Wear a princess dressOr a band t-shirt withJeans in distress -Boy or girl or anything in between,Stand before that mirrorTake a twirlAnd see how beautiful you are.Go for a run,Have some fun,Watch Netflix until your eyes burn,Curl up in bed -Take a vacation from your head.Phone a friendAnd talk for hours,Or stay in your roomAnd wait for the darknessTo end -No need to pretend,Just do what you need.Paint a pictureOr write a sonnet,Or just sit stillAnd breathe -Things willGet better.Pick some flowers,Take hoursJust for yourself -You are just as specialAs anyone else.
Can You Hold on One More Day?I read a poem about a boy.Who had lost all of his pride and joy.He wore his heart on his sleeves.Which were stained red,From all of the blood that he bled.The boy died...By the blade of a knife.That he ran up and down his wrists.And I couldn't help but cry.That poem was fake.There wasn't such a boy.It wasn't a true story.But... Then I began to realize.That just because it wasn't that specific boy.There are others just like him.Begging for death.Slitting their wrists,And hoping to die.Because so many times,They've tried,And so many times,They've cried.But nothing gets better!I just wanted to say,I've been that boy.At some point.I felt that way.And I just wanted to say,I am so sorry.I know it hurts but hang on another day.Another month,Another year.Please, stay with me dear.Don't join that boy,No, not tonight.Stay with me,Please?
Suckerpunch SweetheartRed lipstick war paintEyeliner eyes.I am a soldier in my own war;A force split in two sides.I am a force of natureBring about my own raptureAnd I’ll bring you to your knees.Say pleaseLittle girl lost.Cut off my hairCut into my skinPretty princess girlCardinal sin.Let me inLet me in.Sugar in my veinsAnd poison in my heart;I can turn bloodInto a work of art.I won’t go there againWon’t do itI won’t.HandsA sea of handsAnd andsIn my head.A universe inside.Dead.Icy skinFiery eyesNobody knowsJust what's inside.
Bullied On Our Friendly Website DA There was once a two authors on a website that wanted to let their opinion out.But a famous author set to put them out.She took the flame of these little author’s hearts making them burn from blue to red.And here’s what she said,“Your little fire shall extinguished because I want you to get the Fuck Out!”The tiny authors wept and cried.Wondering was it because they picked a side.Maybe if they had gone with the flow of everyone elsethey wouldn't have suffered being a different self?The small male author thought it was too much to handle and left.But the dainty female author stayed behind. HoweverThe light within her grew dimmer and dimmer.And its glow became barely a shimmer.Her originality became to be like everything else she owned: plastic.She wasn't real anymore; just another author following the trends.All hope was lost.No one to come save her.Sadness reigned within her, making her shallow and pale as Frost.Nothin
quirks.when i was a child:i loved to steal.i would go around my neighborhoodand steal lawn ornaments.at daycare, i would steal moneyand toysand food.once, i stole my next door neighbor’srabbit statute.when my parents confronted me,the lie was smooth and solid:i saw so-and-so take it.--when i was a child:i loved to lie.i would make up storiesto get reactions out of people.to see if they’d believe me.for fun.once, i convinced my friend charlottethat i had twenty-four hours to live.when she burst into tears,i had to bite my tongueto keep from laughing.--when i was a child:i loved animals.i would lock my dog in the closetand in the bathroom.a lot of my neighbors left birdcages outduring the dayso i set all of the birds free.once, i imagined what it would be liketo kill an animal.then, i imagined what it would be liketo run over it repeatedlywith a carso i did it with my scooterto a rose i foundbecause it was redlike blood.--when i was a
Eternity Comes Only Once ...In a dream of eternal youthwith beautiful eyes and unspoken truths,dancing on a thin thread drawn by Selenain a blue night when all four winds talking about peace;...In that unique poem when loveshines more than the Sun God on your ring finger,weaving lasting hopes on a delicate cobwebin a white day of the beginning of all beginnings;...In a cold afternoon of Decemberwith memories which surrounds the Arctic Circle,melting everlasting snows that floods the time, paradoxically, leaving behind them the fire which burns your heart;....In the black hole of a single moment,with pain, with answers, with courage, maybe with joy, or Not,Waltz with the time between seconds,Eternity comes only once...
absent resolvei.i cradle my hopewith both hands,as if holding it closewill give it the warmthto stay alive.when you come nearit flares and rustles,begging to take flight;yet i am both caressand cage.ii.we have confused our signals,mixed our drinks andnever together.closure looms ominousbut i would rather forgetthan be caught in thisluminous void ofperhaps -iii.i am weakand perhapsyou are blind,we, silent,are nothingperhaps we could beeverythingif only we spoke.iv.enigma,you have unknowinglytwisted yourselfin helical fundamentalsabout my identity,shaped me inabsence andthe embers ofa chance.i wish i knewwhen to releasethis frail hope.v.we're both drunkand you're shaking,caught in a momentneither here nor now.entwined fingersbring you back tothe present, and i lingerbut you are eager to eclipsethis vulnerability,so you run.vi.i'm too afraid to ask,but at least the question'sanswered:we're both cowards.
Demons Can Feel TooI'll admit that I'm a demon.I'm cold and cruel,Hateful and quick to anger.I'm flawed.I prefer darkness over light.But demons can have feelings too.I can be hurt, offended.I can be sympathetic.I can care for other peopleAnd I can love.I may be a cruel being.Excessively so at times.But that doesn't make me heartless.Though I may seem so,I'm not.I do have a heart.And I do use it.Just not often.Because the problem with having a heartIs it can be broken.And I don't want a broken heart.I think maybe that's why demons seem so cruel and hateful.They're just afraid of getting hurt.
bound in retrospectpart i.let's talkabout wreckage and dreaming,about nights wept weary,and how city limitscompress to claim youwhen you run.let’s talkabout slippingaway early mo(u)rningand choosing dark over light;how eventually i stoppedwishing upon starsbecause really,what’s the point.let's talk;there is no true wayfor someone this self-consciousto let loose streams ofconsciousness,but i'm trying.interlude: youyou,you are an immersionheartbeatracing down my spine,along vertebrae as ifthey belong to youbut they shouldn’t,not now.you,you are long-limbed eyelashes,a study in faux-reluctance.you are a cagei never could penetratealthough you never had much troubleignoring my reluctance;penetration became a gamei never won.part ii.let’s talk;this was never a love story,but add enough adjectiveand i guess it can bewhatever you want it to be.warped to your ideal,turn me to my better angleand hide the flaws;hide the fa
Rain and Hypnagogic StatesI glance at you through the sea of babbling faces,and suddenly you're squirming in your seat."How beautiful you are when you dance for me."