All of Me in Four Partsi.
i want to dig the crevices of my heart clean,
wash it in a cool stream, hand it to you like it's new.
i'll stitch the broken seams and ignore the film over my eyes.
but i know that you would never accept that.
you want to run your fingers through the scars and solve the maze
you don't want just the good parts, or the masks, or the band aids.
you don't need the film that covers my eyes.
you want openness, a shared burden; you need a hiding place
there exists a certain kind of emptiness, a hunger,
that comes with thinking alone and breathing in dusty air.
it is bone deep and aching, a sickness that holds no remedy
but company; twined limbs, soft words, and Earl Grey.
the worst thing to be is alone. i am wrapped in soft fleece
over bony arms. cradling myself, it is almost enough.
hold my hand. we can't say we've never given anything.
freckles make a lovely pattern, tracing them with soft fingertips
a quiet smile is shared and that alone heals.
if this is a
Anger-fear, Midnight, Breathing SoupShe's no longer your skinny nightmare desire,Anger-fear, Midnight, Breathing Soup2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she watches with that unlaced smile
while half of her state burns and she grows scars.
She fell for the Indiana sun,
suspecting someday you might leave her
for air smelling of honeydew.
She chooses to bury herself in her bones.
Aesthetic angles found purchase between
her delicately splayed digits.
Coming down from the mountain air
feels like breathing soup,
drowning in the smog.
Her life is a euphemism for spring
of everything she's seen before returning.
Noting the spots where she's already died.
That's acid, not rain.
Ribcage SonataI am the only one here who has died one thousand deaths by my own hand.Ribcage Sonata2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I read them like a hymnal,
burning my skin with assurances I don't really mean and God smiles down at me
as if I've done something right,
as if I've done some time for my sins.
I tell Him to live in my celiac plexus
just to get a taste of what He's molded.
He's a Cheshire-grinner, sipping a gin and tonic
next to me like He has no new appointments
and tells me to come home with Him.
I implored Him to become the wood-grain in the pew under my thighs.
He hummed and murmured that I was too fickle a congregant and would not stay sitting long enough.
He suggested that I should clasp my hands together and pray a little harder.
I countered, telling Him, "Become a woman and see how it is to be born of a Rib."
I sit at the pew and contemplate each
scar I have found upon my flesh and between
each sewn fingertip, and decided I was wrong.
I wanted Him to live in my sinuses; to whine and complain about each change in pres
Cut Time Dig sonatas into your thighsCut Time2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
knowing that they're never written
for you. The ones written
in the moonlight, reeking of lust
and a cacophony of dissonance,
are the ones your mind screams
Chemical ResolveI still linger in that elegant space between your fingers and your mouth.Chemical Resolve2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And I'm shrewdly vulnerable, careening out expletives against your breath.
You never really figured me out, did you?
Couldn't ever get around this stone-cold, analytical gaze of mine,
dancing across each facial movement as though you were a line in a book.
But stones are never cold; you learned this by shoving my skin into them.
Stones bleed. Stones ache.
Do you ever murmur my name like I, yours?
Lips pursed oh-so-gently in that arrogant pout I used to love.
I hate you, I loathe you. You repel me.
My name grazes your teeth like my tongue almost did one day
like you wanted it to. My name, my name breathes fire dow
Click Playa tape clicks on. a girls voice filters in through the whirr.Click Play2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Did you hear that mommy? Daddy called me beautiful.
But aren't I beautiful mommy? You never told me so.
Daddy called me beautiful because I was thin.
And thin means happy, right?
He doesn't know what you know.
He doesn't know that I'm false-beauty.
Beauty made out of smiles and three fingers down your throat and-
The girl falls silent. the tape whirs on, then sound crackles through again.
Just keep telling me what else I did wrong.
the tape clicks off.
Quarters OnlyChildren knowQuarters Only2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
45 cent post; monetary love.
Distance aches, but only for those
who do not understand
the geography of parenthood.
No one understands.
No one breathes until
child support is sent
we can afford the oxygen.
bete noireA sugar pill the color of lemon,bete noire2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are a pitiful placebo of ignorance and false entitlement.
It is not necessary for us to be kind.
Burned by a hand I do not want,
Tongue pinned with words you deserve,
but I should not want to be the one to say.
Secure your feet upon backs that cannot take your load
Trample, trample, trample your dirt. Your
unrecognizable snarls morph into the eyes of a kicked dog.
You never admit you're wrong, never admit your fault.
The one wrong here is you.
You do not deserve her compassion.
It is raining apples colored by spring's arrival.
Migraine threadsI have a spiderweb splinter of a headache dilating my left eye;Migraine threads2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it travels down my neck, stopping to rotate a firm
diamond of pain just beneath my earlobe.
It tightens in my shoulders, clawing and groaning past my scapula.
Here, I consist of all sharp angles and jagged edges
It clambers down the twelve stairs of my right ribs,
Perhaps it houses itself in my gut, waiting for the right moment
to spring and knead itself into my temples.
You've had to learn from my pain that I am not soft enough to hold
but once I've caught I'm permanent.
Medicinal Shatteringmy grandfather is becoming more likeMedicinal Shattering1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the hospital gown each day
between he and his life-partner is now
etched out in the trenches under their eyes
and i wonder
it will be
until they die
and take my father
my father whom
had just gotten used to
knowing his own father's
after twenty-five years of the
he uses on my sister
amazing how pain
CachexiaYou think your best solution is to bury it.Cachexia1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
But this is one of those things that
takes root and grows and becomes
a grotesque thing in your garden
that all of your neighbors see
when you're begging for help.
Your solution is to chop it down.
But you're left with a stump,
a scar, something deeply
entwined in the earth of you.
It would leaving a gaping maw once removed.
You hire a gardener, get him to rend it
from you and it is painful.
He walks away with it and you feel
Somewhere, it is burned.
You are lost.
You do not know it has left a remnant
SyncopationTrace theSyncopation2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
back like a
Melting GlassWe dissolve.Melting Glass2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We've found the undertones of chaos between our phrases
You have found the lies beneath my nails
while I have found the secrets between your ribs.
We know just how long this shaky reminiscence
of what used to be will last. I saw that look you gave me.
Our dissolution sounds like water flowing;
a door clicks open and I find I am here alone again.
Maybe I was already here and never left
I have found a new smile to drink up like sunlight
Maybe I'd always known it.
Maybe you'd just been a cloud God had drawn my name in.
I am only capable of loving mentally.
SupermassiveYou are not made of constellationsSupermassive2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but your eyes capture the cosmos.
Your lip mouths the heavens over my collarbone.
I shudder, flesh raises into galaxies.
If you are not endless,
why, then, am I terrified?
Eloquence Played In PairsI craveEloquence Played In Pairs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
TidesI tried to stop myselfTides2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from being drawn to you
For a while I had forgotten
but then I spent a few hours with you
and they crushed all semblance of reality
like a fucking bug and I knew
then that I was hopelessly
dead-weighted underwater for you.
Shutter StuckThere's some part of you that's been institutionalized.Shutter Stuck2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are some kind of ritual I repeat to myself
to keep calm and I know that I depend too much on
Over-the-counter medications but you're one of those things
I'm addicted to that I'll never, ever, give up.
There's an inherent healing quality about you that's been memorialized.
You make it so damn hard to remember the universe-shit-stain
that is my existence. An eternity locked inside a box that is my gender
and my fingertips can hold no key that isn't bloody.
I've been foggy. I've been exhausted on ten hours of sleep
I've felt caffeine shudder through my veins until I'm sick.
You're the Valium to the panic switch. I'll breathe.
Capture the moment, stuck here again.
I'll be institutionalized in your memory.
Never Forget, Only ForgiveConscious,Never Forget, Only Forgive3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The ground was always warm under my back
as you shattered my rib cage. The ribs smirk
groan, claw, bite. I frown, sullen
crying, sniffling. Sand grit crumble touch
nothing solid beneath fingertips. Screaming
I dissuaded myself from crying for you,
knowing, wherever you were, you didn't hear.
Blood beats an ethereal sound in black.
I remember your stapled fingers,
you looked me in the eye as you snapped.
The metal shone against crimson rivers
your six-year-old hand scarred by your own doing.
I forgave you then; you apologized in blood.
Knock my teeth out.
We'll exchange pleasantries about it
another time, laughing as you wipe the blood
from my mouth off of your hand.
I'll smile empty-toothed.
I forgave you then. I don't forgive you now.
Just Fucking StopHe spoke in little phrases and then suddenly lines spilled from his lips at a pace he couldn't keep up with anymore. Words came like a river, pouring out of his mind, out his ears and mouth and nose and he screamed. It was agony, this incessant noise. He felt his veins contort. They wound themselves around his bones; ink and parchment shuffled through their passages like blood might. Cut him and he bleeds novels.Just Fucking Stop2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's never his fault, these things that rot his frontal lobe. First it was her voice; the way that it caused his eardrums to cave in. He smiled at her. His ink-blackened teeth glistened. He ran his tongue over his lip, black trail tugging along the tinted skin there. Blackness dripped from the corner of his mouth, trailing down along his chin. He stared at her with yellowed sclera. She grimaced.
He became a poet. The spaces between his words built bridges through the images and the rhythm of his tongue against the roof of his mouth became the meter. He raged about his grievanc
Playing With WordsYou spent 97 seconds alone taking the right stuff,Playing With Words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
then, dancing with your guardian angels,
declared "Mirror, Mirror, I'm Ugly,
It's a terrible lie, these games I play."
You don't want to know how frozen I've been
inexorably saying things don' t ever change
while blindly living the dream.
"I've lost Wilson's heart playing Sherlock--
You do know Watson was an alias?"
Here I am,
no more mister nice guy.
Inside this house's head,
there's little to do but play with your words.
-Needs a Title-I am ugly, marred, and wrong; All twisted lips and spitting teeth.-Needs a Title-2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have oxidation on my imaginary nipple piercing.
Your mind was given to me by your left temple; your psychosis spreads.
Life is a lie fated to only draw blood.
Fingers clenched at your sides; I am never what you need.
Kick, shattered, and I will become your mannequin.
I am sorry two weeks too late; my arms bring out red in its best.
Give me your Neosporin smile and maybe I'll stop for a while.
Give He knew another wave of nausea was coming. He gagged on it. There was no relief for the crawling lurch to his stomach. again his throat spasmed and liquid poured from him like a fucking rainstorm. He was dirty, filthy, worthless. Like food chewed and spat up.Give2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He wasn't good. His fingers clenched into his thighs, digging canyons, creating rivers. Not enough Another storm surge washed up is throat, now burned raw. His chest heaved, ribs flaring out like oars dipping into water. The night changed to dawn with his face pressed to the cool porcelain. The day remained gray as he slept through this mood.
It started once more with scratching, tearing holes into gifts he'd been given, and shredding pictures from the past. His mind flooded and went blank. He didn't fight it this time. Nausea never came.