always remember.before you met me, you couldn't sleep.
what did you do in those eight hours of quiet?
i imagine you lying all night in your bed, thoughts closing in on you like flames. but you're still, your brown-sugar skin illuminated by the memories. it sounds beautiful. i know it hurt you very much though. i've seen the scars.
and tonight i can't help but feel like i have a responsibility; an obligation to gather you in my arms and let my bones be your blanket, darling; let the unsteady rhythm of my breath be your only focus. and sleep.
when you wake i will be here. or there. wherever it is you want me to be. hopefully you're thinking what i'm thinking and we can wake up beside each other, tangled in each other.
maybe i'll rise first - these times are my favorite. my eyes drip open and because you are my first sight the day is full of promise. i take every bit of you in;
see you breathe you feel you.
i have you. i always forget this. but each realization of it is more glorious than the last.
the culling songi watch the clock shift,the culling song3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
its hands sinking like ships.
every notch in its rope
lowered into the sea of time,
i realise i spend
most of my time
thinking of dying.
i'm going to kill myself.
please stop laughing,
it's only going to make me
do it faster.
and it goes like this:
you pour your hips into mine
and i hold your bones together
like an eggcup of wine.
truth is i fell apart years ago
and you're only talking to
the fragments of a human now.
i feel you on an airplane,
pushing its way into the sky
as a baby does from its womb.
you're leaving me behind
on crumbling ground,
faster than even you
could have dreamed.
i become an ant,
a segmented being
divided in three-
where i am,
where you are,
where we were.
and it goes like this:
you leave me like dirt
under your fingernails,
and i hope it makes you sad
to drive down my street
to see my house
empty of me.
i want it to make you ache,
like your concerns
for yourself over me
what happens is this:
georgian stones.DO YOU KNOW HOW SAD YOU MAKE MEgeorgian stones.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
HOT BREATH OF A DRAGON
ON THE INSIDE OF MY HIPS
CRESTING WAVES BREAKING WISHBONES
WITH STAINED SEASIDE SHIPS
I AM WINTER WITHOUT YOU.
I AM TUCKED INSIDE THE PAGES
OF BOOKS YOU'VE NEVER READ,
EVERY PAGE YOU'LL NEVER SEE
WITH MY HANDPRINT FOLDED ALONG
YOU WILL ALWAYS FORGET ME.
I AM WALLOWING AND SWALLOWING
MOUTHFUL AFTER MOUTHFUL AFTER
MOUTHFUL OF SALT WATER
THE SEA BREAKING EVEN ON MY TONGUE
THE FIRE NEVER CEASING IN MY LUNGS,
I AM LEFT WITH SMOKE.
little thingsa.little things5 years ago in Open More Like This
Sometimes I just sit
without breaking and try to hold my bones in.
My cerebrum becomes symmetrical,
I agree with myself to hold onto that empty space
where somethings missing among my organs.
No, let it go.
Wait, hold on!
Sometimes I disappear, and theres someone else looking in the mirror.
Sometimes I lie on the tile floor next to the bathtub
and turn up the bass of the stereo until
I cant hear myself screaming the words. There are
some days where I wear dresses,
and others where I swim through the house in black sweats
at all hours of the night.
Sometimes I scribble on my skin so I wont forget what it feels like, and sometimes I dream without sleeping.
Sometimes the roses inject sanity under my skin.
I run velvet petals along my lips and
the dew nourishes something deeper than the body.
I live in a garden of cast-iron thorns and glass blooms;
ready to bite,
ready to break.
Sometimes every time I run outside the sun slips under a clo
presumptionsi know i'm a very common-,presumptions2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i look like i floss my teeth
at least once a week
and have never worn
like i devour books like candy
and never talked during class.
it's funny when people are nothing like how they look.
so let me tell you something,
let me set you straight:
i'd have you believe
i'm not some heavily medicated girl
with snakes up and down her body
in bright red rows, all raw and scabbed and
constant, ceaseless, neverending reminders of fucked-up and failure...
but it never took much for you to talk me into bed.
letting you think i'm some perfect porcelain figurine
without cracks all up my spine is about as ok as forging your mom's signature;
meaning it's alright as long as it's nothing serious.
and maybe that's the problem.
playing hopscotch cross-continent all summer and
making a patchwork quilt out of our travels when the cold sets in
is a pretty serious stab at giving us another go.
i can deal with touch, i just might shudder
such an assso today i met a little boy with no arms. none at all.such an ass3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i introduced myself to him. i told him my name. i stuck out my hand to shake, only to withdraw it, chuckling. i watched him scowl.
god, i'm such an ass.
i took his picture, told him to take it from me. i watched his jaws like a shark undulate and snap til the polaroid was between his teeth. i felt like a seal in those sharp bicuspids.
i torment handicapped children to get my kicks because no woman would love this monster.
i wanted to see what he'd be like when he got older. i wanted to see how he'd hold his cock for pissing or fucking. i wanted to see what his text messages would look like, i was jonesing for a glimpse of his writing. his print, cursive, arabic. i didn't fucking care, i just wanted it.
god, i'm such an ass.
"mister," he started, a look beyond his years tainting his eyes. "
big black body of waterso i guess it is like we are a lot like a two lane highway. you are one side, and i am the other. if you stand in any singular place you will look and see the same stretch of asphalt and tar. there are two yellow lines. one belongs to me, one belongs to you. i guess at some points there will be holes in me and bumps in you. but we are still the same in the most opposite of ways becausebig black body of water3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am heading north. you are heading south. and maybe we cross each other on the way down but we are never after the same purpose. going to or from and i guess it has to be that way because that is the way wind is and birds are and if god had a body, well hell, he'd be that way too
and well shit. you know if we were both on the same path there would just be too much. and i guess that's the main part of it is that if both of us are harboring the same great sadness or the same great hope it is just too goddamn much. maybe we are that important
people always talk about the irrelevance of an individual course
the last poem i will ever write for you.last springthe last poem i will ever write for you.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(after almost a year)
you lost me when
you fell into a venus fly trap.
there was even a sign saying
'THIS IS NOT A VENUS FLY TRAP'
and i believed it. i am so
sorry. you are a rose.
and what you couldn't say,
you spoke with your blood-shot
eyes leaking blood-clear tears
and i believed you because
you meant it.
i painted you turtles.
you pulled my hair.
we wasted gas and blew money on cigarettes.
we fucked like we breathed- erratic,
and savored. you held small
secrets that only i knew. we
promised to get married and
hump each other senseless.
we went hiking
and before we left
you had to have me on
your living room floor.
i had not seen you in a week
and all the messes we made were
cleansed in a semen-salty bath.
on the mountain-
we stopped at every bench for a
cigarette because we were out of
breath. we never made much sense in
the first place and i went down on you in the wilderness
because at that altitude you have to go down
somewhere. you hel
looking backlike reading a book backward, i read you. tears crawled up your cheek and hid themselves in your eyes. i backed forward, pulled my lips against yours, pressed them away, and leaned back. my hand fell up to your face, traced your cheekbone, raised back down to my side.looking back4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you feel like glass against my skin
cold and distant, beautiful, let me in
like a poem bottom to top, i felt you near and against me. your arms wrapped around where i wasn't a few minutes later and where i won't be a moment ago. your eyes spelled out words right to left, .oot ,uoy evol i dna og ot evah uoy das m'i and i love you.
too, you love i and you love i. and backwards gets old quickly. i walked toward you and kept getting further away and no matter how long i held you, for me, it ended where we started. i had to wonder often, did i see you? or was it that you were really just the light that left my eyes?
you feel like crystal on my cheek, break my bones
my heart? trapped twixt them. your chest? its home.<
on leaving it behindi stillon leaving it behind2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
this might appall you
or agonize you but i do.
i remember still evenings
with little to exchange besides
heartbeats and breathing patterns.
i remember soft afternoons
with my back raking against the carpet
leaving sporadic scars and stitches of memory.
i remember dark roads, and darker rains.
i remember a longer faith and a shorter pain.
the wounds are not as fresh, they do not sting,
but they ache and the few times i hear your voice
wedges your fingers in my brain and i can feel the cake
of neglected cum stains and i can hear the desperation in
the small whimper of my name and the way it was hard for your
breath to escape and my mind is running on thin rails, paper train,
and all i ever wanted from you was a home, not a place.
you would finger fuck me in the movie theater
and i would squirm and you would laugh because
i am not so good at keeping quiet. and all it would take
was a look from me or my hand up your knee or my lip under my
teeth and your eyes would
i don't have the heart to call it summer lovewe drank sparkling wateri don't have the heart to call it summer love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the sun stripping us down
to our barest elements.
we were the wind,
two hearts in the air,
unanchored and set at sea.
you would wear your hat
loosely like a ribbon
of air on the top of your head,
and smile with your whole face;
you would imagine what i looked like
in only my underwear
until the next hour when your
your hands becoming excavation
shovels, revelling in discovery-
i had liked you best
when you were naked
on my bed,
head between your knees
as you caught your breath.
this was the last time
i felt good about you,
the last that it was safe
to sink myself into your arms.
i have realised this:
i love you,
but that is not enough.
i'll just embrace
the new space
put between us,
and all one thousand miles
that act like a membrane
between two fluids,
wanting little more
than to mesh
it fails to end me,
the paining i feel,
in my chest,
but i am unsure
sent out to sea,
went down in
verilygod shakes the earthverily3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to loosen the leaves from his trees,
the love pressed over his eyelids
leave fingerprints in his sleep.
he will not see the moon
changing its gravitational pull
to lift the corners of his
lips, the sparrows of spring,
into a curled smile,
nor the shoulders of every man,
woman, and child sag with every
word he does not speak.
his bench grows cold in the
february air, lonely and counting
its splinters as it waits for his return.
no river shifts direction
to please him, to clean him of his sins
and sing to him from the sky.
the biggest mountain of soul
won't call himself beautiful,
he will say he is a mash up
of cocaine, weed, and schizophrenia
and does not understand
that i love him.
there's no right way anymorei do not know why we do these things to each other.there's no right way anymore3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
our sentences lack all the proper meaning. we only say what we're feeling when we're feeling nothing at all and keep all the most important things we could ever think to say safe beneath guarded tongues. we are clever in all the wrong ways.
it's about how we do all the things we're expected to because to actually do what we want the mostthe things that scare uswould mean having to take a risk. we might need to deal with the possibility that we have something to lose by doing nothing at all.
there is a complete certainty that we've gotten content in our lonelinessin our misery. we're stuck standing still, not at all responsible for the way we function, because even our hearts just keep beating because it's committed to memorynot because we make them. not because we want them to. we are incomplete in exactly the way we want to be.
if the fact that tomorrow never arrives because it's always today means that nothin
on hindsightif you would have told meon hindsight3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i will love you conditionally,
when i am feeling good, but not too good
because when i feel my very best i will
not need you, when i am feeling bad,
but not too bad because at my very worst
i will hate you.
i will stand with you provisionally,
so long as i do not have to stand very long
and i can take breaks from you as i please-
i will look into you tentatively
and reach the decision that i am better than you,
that you are one big fucking joke, that i have
a higher calling to marijuana and making
temporary homes inside of nice, but stupid
if you had told me that now when we talk
it's only because you want to know who i'm fucking
and where i'm at and what i'm doing not because
you care about me, but because somewhere in the
back of your mind you claimed me and even though
you are not stepping up to fill your position as
high conqueror of my cunt, you expect me not
to look for satisfaction elsewhere.
if you had told me that i would waste the past few m
sanguinetattoos cutting down my legsanguine3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
red and running
miles and miles and miles
and never slowing
means nothing nothing nothing nothing
NOTHING so let me go
your fingers dig into tunnels of my skin
and break and break until more thread
and i am left
naked on the floor
until i am emptier
than that heart of mine
glass jarred and fragile
you used to keep.
dazea gut feeling (and the completedaze3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
absence of a tender crimson fairy)
leads me to believe that two has
turned into three...
two skinny fish and one bouncing pearl
along the river's edge. one fish says
to the other fish: gosh, it's awful pretty
but we just can't carry the weight right now. besides,
there will be other pearls in the future when we are
bigger and stronger and closer to home.
the other fish listens, and watches as the
pearl sinks deep into the shit and sediment.
as skinny and bright and young as she is,
her heart grows too burdened for her
body to carry and she sinks along
with it, desperate to be close
with just the one thing that
she refused to accept
on giving a fuckthere were more excuseson giving a fuck2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
than there was sincerity
it is easier to blame
the gods or your father
than to accept the fact
you're an asshole.
last summer was sweet
with peanut butter & jelly,
your beautiful head on my
the girl who said that
i was so smart and pretty, and
she admired me because i really
didn't give a fuck about any of it.
she was wrong-
i give more fucks than
my hands can handle,
where to put them, who to
give them to?
so now i have a nice pile of fucks
in my room.
it is why i don't clean
it is why my father yells at me
they do not smell, and you cannot see them,
but the fucks no one will accept
are killing me-
there used to be a time when there
were never any excuses. there was
i have forgotten how that sounds-
i walk the aisles at the store
and count off the fibonacci sequence
to keep my carefully calculated face
the year of the rabbitto matt:the year of the rabbit3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
calling into question every conventional way of being,
i am two or three or sevens solar poppings away from
a complete degradation into separate cells of matter
what i am really trying to say is that all this
bullshit with the dollar is making me mad. not the
sweet, rampant mad that leaves flowers in its rear
and churns the dirt into dust into dreams but the
silent, steady mad that will cause the body
to do horrible things to itself. if i was asked a
question: what is your soul's deepest desire?
i would respond: well, i would go to california
and work a shitty job and rent a shitty room that
has windows with beautiful things in them. i would
take matthew and we would smoke a lot and have a lot
of love and i would write all the time and he would
be there and encourage me to live, not believe, but just
live like there is a rabbit foot beating on the root
of my heart. and i would do it too i would live
and if the questioner were to counter: well, why don't you?
i would know the a
mother.i'm not exactly a person-mother.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
more like a body
filled up with
things i never should've known
and things i never could've said.
and i wonder what you'd do
if i could.
so i tell strangers, i tell you,
because i'll never have to
look you in the face
or see your eyes hide
behind walls that never had to be built-
there are bodies buried in those, you know.
i never wanted any of that.
the way i never wanted to be the girl
who ran away from womanhood as it approached,
because adolescence was so much sweeter
at four feet tall.
i sprouted breasts in panic.
my limbs stretched and the pains at night
weren't just from growing pains- they were from
not being able to shrink back down.
i never signed up to reach twenty years old.
i never wanted boys with sweaty hands
to touch me, i never wanted to see
that red flower in my bottoms until they did.
i wonder what you'd think of me
if i told you how i'm never fooled
by your husband, even if you are.
six trips to the bottle last night,
did you know?
For MadisonStreams of summer air carried well-wishings and sleepy symphonies of crickets' nighttime magic, but nothing compared during sunlit hours to the music made by his own two hands.For Madison3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
They would never touch a piano again, never breathe notes in patterns full enough of beauty that they would make Debussy bleed with envy, never resurface from the cold glass of the lake's mirror. He was a sorcerer of sound, a soul on fire with compassion and artistry -- he was dead. Caught in the undertow. Forever frozen in insufficient rescue of a boy smaller than himself. His heart had gone still, but was bigger than any beating above ground.
I heard him breathing Clair de Lune every afternoon as I walked home. He was invisible, as though he was hidden behind thick veils of water, quashing his reflection, but never his sound. I could hear how beautiful his fingers were as they pressed gently over ivory and ebony, solid bricks and thin like enamel, striking chord after chord of pure moonlight. As the leaves and
his mother in readingit might've been the weighthis mother in reading3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she gained in her
hips and stomach
her only child,
or the heft of responsibility
brought on by jobs and bills
and eviction notices,
but she wasn't beautiful
some key element
left her skin empty
and let it sag
and slump like her shoulders.
she looked like wet laundry
hung like papier mache
streamers dragged down
by a cold summer rain.
it choked the life out of her
i can see it in her eyes
in her face
she just sits in front of the television
she doesn't feel love anymore-
telling a story that has no end,
breaking her heart just to feel again-
there is a big nothing
where love should be.
march 24th, 2008.there is a chinese proverb that says your teeth will fall out if you tell lies.march 24th, 2008.3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
i used to always dream my teeth would crumble from my mouth and lay glittering on the street like coins. i used to dream that the slightest touch jarred them loose, knocked them from my jaw leaving only swells of broken tissue behind. i used to dream of rivulets of blood streaming from the corners of my mouth, of thirty two pieces of myself lying naked on the ground, thirty two tooth fairies that would never come. i used to dream of screaming.
"you know," said my psychology TA, "to dream of losing one's teeth is very common. it typically means that you're concerned about your physical appearance. it's a dream that is prevalent among many young women."
i used to dream my mom would try to kill me. i used to dream she'd push me down flights of stairs or hold a gun to my temple or run a razor lovingly along my throat. i used to dream she'd watch me drown and smile, that she would set my room on fire, would lock
from edear,from e3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
i am not miserable, i am sad- for the beauty in the world, for the poisoned lungs and minds fluttering like one-winged butterflies in dizzying circles in this world.
i am listening to your music. you sound so sad- you sound like me. i want to hold you in the fold of my arm, a pen for a sheep, a comfort, protection from the world so sharp on your skin. i could write you a hundred letters, but it would be much clearer to show you if i could hold you in my body of glass, knowing i'm holding the only thing worth saving.
with you, i am not infatuated with thinness any more than i am with money. it would be nice to have both, but it dims in comparison to the heat radiating from my core, the fire behind ribs. the satisfaction from your joy, your acceptance, your anything-but-hurt, is electricity running over my skin. it is more than enough. i do not need romance, i do not need sex, as long as i have you, i will
'til deathit occurs to me that maybe i will grow up and get divorced. i will love you as long as i can and eventually, we will wake up and not love each other anymore. i guess it won't happen overnight but it sure as hell will be intolerable one day.'til death3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
our kids will be grown. they will be surprised because they often saw us drunk together at family functions and honestly staring into each other's eyes. and they sometimes heard us having sex. and they found the love letters i wrote to you in high school. i will be brushing my teeth and you will be smoking a cigarette and then we will be looking at each other in the mirror. i rinse my mouth out and look up at you.
'how long has is been since we had sex?'
'how long has it been since you had sex?'
'how long has it been since we made love?'
'jesus, at least five years.'
i will smile at you and fix your hair, take a long drag on your cigarette and say, 'i can't believe i married you. you are one boring son of bitch. i'll
this isn't progress, because you're irreversible.You were never meant for me.this isn't progress, because you're irreversible.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I knew it in the most obvious manner. It was in the way you had a subtle sort of comfort in your own skin a quiet and humble confidence while I struggled to make sense of the prints on my fingertips and the way one of my eyes crinkled in the corner more than the other when I smiled. You felt safe with yourself while I was always warring with my own reflection. Half the time, I didn't know who I was. A quarter of the time, I still don't. You would call this progress if you were here to see, but I just call it sad.
When you miss something for long enough, you start to forget the exact way that things happened. Or the exact way they happened to fall apart. For instance, I don't remember the first time you didn't call, but I do remember when you told me you loved me but not enough. It's never enough, is it? The point is you were gone before I could even say goodbye. You were gone before you were ever really here, but somehow I let myself bu