morning thoughtsi woke up and suddenly you weremorning thoughts in Free Verse More Like This
not real anymore.
it felt like invisibility, it felt like alone
it was the world taking away
my sense of colour, an empty friday night.
you were only a shadow because
that's all that unrequited memories are.
it's the week after the death of
your pet bird but you still keep the
copper wire cage because you
just can't bear to stow it away so
instead you expect to hear his
presumptionsi know i'm a very common-,presumptions 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
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
projected profitsi keep picturing us in fifteen years, but it's more like ten. we're sleeping and the quiet sun gently pushes on our eyelids. we turn softly in the mounds of white cloth covering our bed, one or both of us making those slight moans of vague consciousness completely against our wills.projected profits in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we live in a house, or maybe a flat. it might be in europe, in one of the countries you visited when we found our ways back to one another. the buildings are smooth and white, but the garden is not lacking for colour. the greens are denser than water, the sky more saturated blue than our swimsuits, hanging off the lip of the small balcony.
maybe it's switzerland, or germany. neither of us speak the native language, but with signals and human understanding, we make our ways through.
in the mornings we both reach for our car keys. mine are on the table, yours are on the hook by the door. there is always coffee in the early
bruises that won't healthe days i will not think of you mostbruises that won't heal in Free Verse More Like This
are the days i am in therapy.
i hate walking through the doors in
sadness so full that my heart
is begging to burst.
i won't say i've missed you,
but i have. your number is dead
in my phone, & i long for the
music of change echoing from
your heart to your
jean pockets. i don't mean to
apologise, it's only a habit,
just like your nightly smoke fix.
do you remember singing 'no surprises'
to me over the phone,
laughing as your thumbs stumble
over errant strings?
every strum feels like my heart,
i hope you know
the rumble in your throat
becomes its beat.
you are so hard to look at
and everybody looks like you.
the stultified stammer in my belly
flutters like a hummingbird
catching fire on every feather.
any photo of you i can get my hands on,
i do. i let my eyes take in breathless
mouthfuls, my fingers, clawing
daggers digging into the photo and
crumpling it with want.
the hurt is what makes it
you were never supposed
to mean this much to me.
breathe deepbreathe deep.breathe deep in Free Verse More Like This
breathe it shallowly if you need to,
if filling your lungs to bursting
is too much,
but breathe the depth-
of tree roots
and ethnic roots
and the roots planted by love.
and the orgiastic fullness
it gives the empty shell
you try so hard to stuff
but nothing sticks;
because deep is star-soaked
desperate with creeping beauty
like attar and trellis
and the june moon.
this is how you keep her.
this is how you say,
this is our permanent address.
this is how you say i love you
with something more than words.
epiphany no. 458i hate having sad showers.epiphany no. 458 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the hot water seeping from the faucet becomes tears,
spilling so much misery onto aching shoulders.
it is so,
like the raw-red skin breathed over by fire
because you are never warm and the wool sweater
round your neck doesn't remember how to
like a day-old shoe bite lounging around your heels
when you insist on wearing those pumps another day
even if your feet bleed;
the first time in your childhood your mother isn't here to tuck you in.
sore like hearing only your echo when you scream-
a name, or some animalistic, frightened sound;
like the first night alone in your apartment, no body to press against yours,
to calm you down,
to keep you quiet.
just hours alone in the fragile bed, crying to your soul's content.
epiphany no. 458: humans are not the only ones with sad eyes.
listen honey, here comes your mani hear your gaslight anthemlisten honey, here comes your man in Free Verse More Like This
playing in my head
for the first time in months.
my stomach is knitting itself
a raw sweater,
pink and greying flesh
from the sickness of worry.
i made the mistake
of playing it back to you.
you tell me you miss me,
you love me,
these songs in your vernacular
writing your thoughts,
but the thoughts are not yours.
it was well intentioned
but too far gone,
the thought has trailed
its way along lines
of train tracks-
i cannot think of you
unless you come back
constellations named after youThis solar system will self-destruct in...constellations named after you in Free Verse More Like This
i'm planning my exit strategy
four hours ahead, just for it to
fail and fall in the cracks of the
ground; sinking, six feet under,
just let earth swallow me alive!
i promise not to scream or cry,
but promises might as well be
broken if the owner's heart is.
it's a common misconception
that i was born in a planetarium,
so let me clarify:
one misguided prediction
a simple misrepresentation
or flawed communication,
can eclipse common sense.
our universes are imploding
and my bones are exploding
and i'm out of empathy fuel.
i'd eat every star in this forged sky
before letting you touch the insides
of my skin, of my shirt, of my life
if you could call it life without you.
let the sun paint my cheeks blood red;
let the moon laugh at my complexion;
let a black hole swell in my ignominy;
let fifteen apocalypses shine me blind.
my empyrean time machine
is stuck in the fucking past,
with newspapers headlined
paper accordions, paper heartssing me a songpaper accordions, paper hearts in Free Verse More Like This
about how i make your insides shrivel like prunes,
about how i make your outsides wish for surgery,
about how i make your nosides become yessides.
sing me a song
about how you dream of Me,
about how you dream of We,
about how you dream of You
trading places with a teacher
and redefining pronouns A-Z.
(redefining vowels I-U)
sing me a song
about how we dance on typewriters,
about how we smash our keyboards,
about how we confuse plastic pianos
for claviers, confuse fingers for choirs,
confuse lovesongs for record players.
(any other genre of "players" as well)
sing me a song
about how you lost your voice
serenading your heart to your
soulmate. about how you got
laryngitis standing outside his
window in the below-freezing.
sing me a song until i'm deaf.
someone in the world loves youtoo bad it's not mesomeone in the world loves you in Free Verse More Like This
Simple Method to Get PublishedTHREE EASY STEPS TO GET YOUR BOOK PUBLISHED:Simple Method to Get Published in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I) Write book as fast and as sloppy as you can; make sure to not spend any time thinking about it.
II) Find Stephanie Meyers' publisher, and send her your manuscript.
III) Enjoy irrational fame.
you rigged the obstacle courseour souls run marathons,you rigged the obstacle course in Free Verse More Like This
jumping over hurdles,
climbing rock walls,
swinging across lava
with a broken rope,
but the only sports in
your untitled triathlon
are the only ones
i've never played:
ROUND I) hide-and-seek
in other words,
Outcome: you win, naturally.
ROUND II) pin-the-heart-on-someone-else
Winner? You, of course.
Like you really need another
medal for your Wall-of-Betrayal
ROUND III) find the truth in the lie-stack (this one's a personal favorite)
Guess who takes gold?
(and silver and bronze)
Well, here's three hints:
1. WHY do i keep losing?
2. OH, don't blame me...
wait, that last one was a dead giveaway
(as if you gave me anything but trouble)
silly me for trying to answer
a question with an answer;
but i'm all wornout by now:
out of your league;
out of stamina,
out of energy,
out of patience,
since i'm out of breath,
can you lend me yours?
i know i am no athlete,
but how fun can it be
tearing pages from the rulebook
or carving paper
the alarm clock paradox -colabyou stripped your sweater tothe alarm clock paradox -colab in Free Verse More Like This
show me your freckles,
and oh how i'd love to peel them off,
because you're no swan, lovely--
not with those small brown accidents
kissing your every inch of
when they should be
kissing every inch of mine.
formed a coalition
to sign a petition
to ban you from
the sky, but i
what else could i wish on?
when you're alone, you'll always
lust for the bedroom door
to lock you in forevermore,
to lock me out forevermore;
that way you're safe to be the
sweet nothing that you see--
the ghostling in the mirror.
you're still just one
of those dirty little things,
and it scares you to tears.
i promised not to be a
liar, when you
promised to make me love you
(remember how i said
i could never love you?
well, i was lying)
you should know, darling,
a liar always lies.
you should know, darling,
this is not a lie.
and you should know, darling,
there's no difference between
dishonesty and disinterest.
so just forget to remember me
you must be this tall to love:i've grown tiredyou must be this tall to love: in Free Verse More Like This
of waiting for you
to come over here
and kiss me like
i've never been kissed before
because, in all honesty,
i've never been kissed before
i've grown plants
weeds and sunflowers,
(though, there's no difference)
gardens you trespass through,
gardens the size of Pluto,
and i know Pluto isn't a planet,
but, in all honesty, neither are you
i've grown feet
three miles wide
on each tarsus,
(that's 4.8 kilometers to you)
each one tripping on your ego
because, in all honesty,
it's so hard to maintain balance
when you keep kicking my Achilles Heel
i've grown up
and down, and right,
and even backwards,
(this is called withering)
but i don't see the point
in maturing normally
when, in all honesty,
my head is on crooked
i've grown attached to you,
but i've gained so much wait
weighting for you to kiss me
that i've grown out of you
and into my newest clothes
one if by paper, two if by seai will compare you to a comparisonone if by paper, two if by sea in Free Verse More Like This
about me just so i can hear you say
"no one's ever said me that before"
i will fold you into an origami swan
and place you in my pocket just so i
never feel alone, never feel unloved.
i will kiss your paper cheeks,
smooth the creases, making a
new crimp. art. manipulation.
i will reform you into an airplane
and toss you into the river. one
more thing: i forgot to fuel you.
i will watch as you pretend
you can evolve into a boat,
and i will watch you drown.
blitzkrieg luminanceAnywhere there's smoke, anywhereblitzkrieg luminance in Free Verse More Like This
there's light; anywhere there's
a riot, a reason, and a military,
there will be pharaohs entombed
in their houses and in fields
of sanguinary debris. A clarion
of triumph will echo into the sky;
now they sing of Sumer, they sing
of wheat and rye and hops,
trembling in bloodstained fatigues
under the sickle moon's soothing
lights. The only smoke now whistled
from the pockmarked earth, an argent
joke among thieves and warriors.
The pyramid homes lined
outside the modern day
Colosseum, silver madonna'd lawns,
idols in every window. Children
escaping doorways, gambolling
into the open arms of heroes.
Anywhere there's smoke,
there will be burning effigies;
anywhere there's smoke,
there will be dancing victories.
And anywhere there's light,
there will be greenery.