From Mia, With Lovelast night i caught her with a finger so far down the back of her throat,From Mia, With Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she pulled up her thoughts
into all the water
a refraction of light &
suspended until suddenly all the water in her head sloshes
(a faint inner ripple
as the pain leaks out her ears, her nose)
she was gasping to throw herself onto the next comma
she sinks or swims [the cliche, a baracuda, drags her down]
but if this was a love song
she'd hate it
because she's already written 46 on her hand
to remind herself she's only human & a weak gag reflex runs in her family
so walk straight in, my love
& sink to the bottom
six feet under these bulimic stars
I would love to give upi.I would love to give up2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'there's a second hand that holds mine, and stuffs the words back down my throat.'
her voice a crack--
sticks & stones breaking
between her teeth
but when she tries to find the sound
her pen runs dry
[can someone flip the switch to 'yes' or 'no'
i've been so de
& my head is saying 'maybe']
(i would ask myself,
but i don't trust liars)
she tries to string the words
down a thread
but they always c r u mb l e
(& the cinders burn
with the same old questions)
but when you turn
she'll be gone
there are rocks in her throat when she asks you for help.
the words grind to sand on her tongue.
smoke in her head
smeared across her hands
her fingers are broken;
o k e d
she reaches for some kind of
at the corner
& turn of each & every page
every night my hair is falling outI have heard that in 7 yearsevery night my hair is falling out1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
every cell in your body
& isn't it beautiful that it will be
a body you have never touched
but I know that when your brain cells
fall like ashes through your skull
they stay dead
& I can never scrap the memories out of their corpses
i don't need to sell my soul laughing against frost,i don't need to sell my soul2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stylish arsonists + I still
escaping from your lips
Never A Clear Mindmy spiders do not pay rentNever A Clear Mind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& the three in the garden keep the weeds
[in the shower
staring him down i think of you
& maybe if I steal the spiders from your head
you will stop destroying it
I know you don't know any better
than to end up on my bathroom floor
but you are a moth
& I can't find the lightswitch
things stay the sameStripped tinselthings stay the same1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
warm lights and
the red-gold glow of
Crepe and cellophane
half-empty wine glasses--
tape hung over
under trash and
the re-gifted morning
Tree-lights and ribbon-frays
tracing paper and
of years to come
don't tell me you're up to it again.1.don't tell me you're up to it again.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i've tried to eat the dust on my walls
my guts are already coated in the stuff, anyway;
for i'll take papers i've used for nothing
and burn them in the backyard
the fire smells like cigarettes,
man, i could use one of those;
but i can't swim in the lava i’ve fabricated like little stars burning
you know, i’ve never liked the heat.
my lips are better off fried
but I know I can’t stop your secret
from being gutted
what have you done this time?
don't tell me you’re up to it again.
boney fingers attached to hands shake with the twinge of
remorse i'd been warned about.
but i blame it on the caffeine
in that lousy expensive latte.
smokey whispers course through my veins
what have you done this time?”
crying is a chore.
because instead of the dust collecting in your stomach,
it collects upon your face
and it's quite hard to see through.
my vision is cobwebs
and darkness now
smoke from the fire res
I do not like you poetsI do not like you poetsI do not like you poets1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
breathing into my sorry head
like the air hasn't been wasted a half-a-million times
folding up my lungs
to place them neatly into a wastebasket
how can you make me stop hurting
& then just leave me
a limp lettuce leaf
on the backside of some dirty napkin verse
I am not the jealous type
but I'm going to call up Melpomene & ask her where she's been
send her drunk texts
because I'm too tired of filling up my skull
with cicada skins instead of led
while you make it all too easy
to sleep through a heartattack or two
my pygmalion, my god, my thing of legends
when you were being taught the siren's song
was I writing myself a migraine?
last love (wanderlust was your home).kites flew in his mindlast love (wanderlust was your home).1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
& kept his head in the clouds,
forcing me to send messages to the sky
in hope he doesn't take flight
with my world on his shoulders.
he was a traveler
intent on conquering every mountain
he could lay his hands on,
& leaving every atlas
to burn beneath his fingers;
like pain searing on a map of hurt
on his lover's skin -
directionless but in motion.
cigarettes were his staple diet
with beer to wash out
the bitter taste of a quick fix.
his smoke & ashes injected adrenaline
into my wasted body
& set my vision straight
when i was getting drunk off of him
on a monday, or tuesday
(or any day mid-week).
intoxication was a breath of fresh air
on nights when he wasn't -
the nights that i had promised myself
i wouldn't cave in to my
spirits gave me spirit
& silenced my thoughts
to allow my body to speak for me
in a language i knew
he would understand.
he kept me close by his side
as he slept through the nights
that the weather shared our bodies' passion,
.all we are is cheap.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
goldfish drowning in
the ocean, birds that forget how to
flap their wings, mid-flight
a ratio of freckles to starsvirginia,a ratio of freckles to stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are floating away in
of sunlight & marrow bones
i want to know
had vertigo then--
a certain horse sadness
i remember how you
would swallow the stars:
watch them glow through your cheeks
(no one told you
what they thought of light & dying
of being a constellation
drawn across your face)
you are the milky way:
a firefly drowning
but i will trail you--
hold your coat above the water
exploding a million miles away
with a number for a name)
symptoms of red a materialistsymptoms of red1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside of you
unknitting your sweater
& in your dream
you are a wolf eating
a flower in an orange field. the world
is ending. an unnamed girl stains you
as if she were tea
giving up to a
she writes a story: the unrequited
blurry visions of two visionaries
honeythief.straw-stitched and hanginghoneythief.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
off every word--
pressing my ears
against your brittle
cyclical decay.an apple falls and hits the headcyclical decay.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a seamstress in a straight jacket
who ties her knots a bit too tightly
and can't crawl out of her own skin, but
she smiles like a jackal and plays games
with the school children in the garden
that visit her when class is over. they
bring her wood and coals so she can
set herself on fire when the moon comes
to scold her in the night. by dawn, she
is ashes and loose threads, but has just
enough time to repair herself by noon.
whitewashedmother refuses to drink the honeywhitewashed1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
she paints our rooms with, for
curtaining the timid female quarters of home
is just as frightening
as a monsoon-poor September.
the kind she weaves
with her own words seem far
sweeter than the jars they make
in the farm down
the tree-cut boulevard.
she hides stories in her collars, spilling
only when her honey jars are raised
her red-hot honesty
and our yellow, foolish,
the forlorn scent of industry
seeps into the cheap marble floor
and cracked bathroom tiles,
till it reaches father's nose where it
vaporizes in fear of being shunned.
father will paint the ceiling blue
because aloof girls make broken homes, sewn seam
by seam to a delusional perfection.
we are perfect, bent at the knees and spine
to the fetus we compare to
but the shoulders we always are.
we dare not tremble;
his reign, unquestionable,
ocean lungsyou weigh something like gravityocean lungs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my tired expanse. you are
(my once splendid mountain)
my love is the ocean
that has worn you down.
with my monstrous tongue,
i pulled you in.
as you fall,
sweeping peacefully into the depths
and filling each crevice,
i am learning to inhale shores.
some would say i'm suffocating
and bring me buckets of air (only to have it
escape my slippery grip).
no, the tides need something heavy
to make of her
will you ever learn to love yourselfshe was deadwill you ever learn to love yourself2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
before she hit the ground
frazzled & 60 percent water
or whatever you call them
brimming on the bus & never
haven’t you ever seen clouds before?’
she threw a handful of stones
sinking like balloons
a hungry ghost
tracing the outline
of a breaking surface
can you tell me real thingsi didn't bother to ask you for anything this yearcan you tell me real things1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
(even if black friday lasts all week
and dirt is cheaper on christmas eve)
no matter the cliche--
what i want you can't find in a store
the sound of bursting glass
and the strings of light out-of-focus
the bleeding hands
the burning eyes
the world is not a cold dead placesour milk & antsthe world is not a cold dead place2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
vying for the stains clinging
& trying not to be
all the light
or wearing new wrist watches
crawling from the
she sits beside
just the heat pressed to her skull
(the static space gasps between
the sofa cushions)
blue-grey against the walls
& i wonder if we'll both
make it to morning
our shadows on the
& the worlds we
wanted to know
Venus in black leatherin '69 furs were enoughVenus in black leather1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
wearing a dead thing is rather indicative of what you're paying for
but we've clipped off the claws & gave the lion a gun
shaved off the mane and the babbling blonde
for a party city costume
& something just taboo enough to be a bestseller
I throw down the newspaper--
porn just isn't classy anymore
in our minds we rot.my lips taste like soot.in our minds we rot.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i realize that we
are nothing but hell-brought fire,
the seven deadly sins
(you be lust, i'll be pride)
and a mess of upside down picture frames.
my teacher once told me
that most writers are introverts;
we drink in the world
and spew it back in ink and titles.
we tattoo words
across the inside of our eyelids--
but somewhere in the process
i must have drawn you
inside the convex of my irises,
because all i can think about
is your wind-shaken frame
flames licking across your hips.
you turn black
beneath my hands.
i can't write about that.
Melatonin Addictioncan i fill you up?Melatonin Addiction1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
on brine, boosts and bronze.
I mean that literally,
The Earth is hollow but we still drill through.
Space is a concept evidently named.
I'm a warrior and you be the princess,
you're already rescued, promised to curses.
is a line is a line is a line is a line
and I'm in enigmas, sure by shore leaves.
sunken ships launch from the beach front
and take their ghosts,
a secret suicide.
If ants drew us and we marched past,
would it be any different, would it be any different?
in a line to end all lines,
and seductive co-workers fling their shit at me.
once primal, always primal, just anthropomorphic.
I'm just a collection of piss stains,
wrung out and forgotten
stinky and melancholic.
addicted to that pin-prick well,
settling for justice with a bucket,
we dip our heads into water and crack the rot over bemusement.
I hope you wake up
oh, god i hope you fucking wake up
we were found beneath the seai've been meaning to tell youwe were found beneath the sea2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(i swear i have)
i'm hopelessly addicted to throwing
messages in bottles
and losing them
the milky way.
i had once thrown them across the mid-
-length of seas
but then you would
and leave them,
much like the nights you found
rhythm in my
i found your messages
(i swear i have)
i'm tired of shooting seagulls
and watch them fly
the milky way.
i had once chased them shouting mid-
-length of the sea
but then you would
write a letter,
throw it to me,
and windowsill sit,
much like the night you found
poetry on my
and then i found verses
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i thought you stopped
yelling metaphors to keep me
i just thought you'd
stop painting your dreams
on my salty
i wrote fabricated honesty
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i wanted to whisp