a jaw of glassyou are made of glass, lit with fireflies andMore Like This
firemen and fireflowers. i can see the heat
tremble like smoke to the black sky as you
tap on your jaw.
pearls slide to the cherry pits of your stomach,
tickled with daisies and ipecac syrup to
gut you like an oyster.
hollow boy, save the glow caught between
your transient, transparent bones- i can see
the snakes in your stomach writhing, pulled
taut and shelled like intestines, wrought like
a chain necklace about your throat.
you are gauze-between-
oh, like a butterfly locked inside its chrysalis,
oh, with cotton wings sticking as they become
viscous in the water, oh, the death of something
beautiful, more beautiful than you.
I don't do kissesShe asks me jokingly if I feel anything, ever.More Like This
I simply shrug, and continue doodling dull skull-like faces.
Sometimes I think Im going insane then I interrupt my trainwreck of thought dont flatter yourself, you are normal!
Just a single customary unit of monochromatic manhood; easy to replace
(And a damaged one to boot).
Observation of a couple in love triggers straying verminsbutterflies in my belly; Feels like I ate something rotten...
They kiss I cringe: Soaked tongues fighting a grotesque slimy battle, particles of partially-digested food dancing in their - now mixed - saliva, millions of happy bacteria eagerly rushing to their new host.
And parasitesbutterflies decay into nauseating quivering mucus.
Remember when you were 6 (and the whole world was 6 and no one lived
anywhere else but here and there were no worries and nothing else mattered but
fifty-seven degrees.i.More Like This
it is summer and i want to write you poems
about how it is fifty-seven degrees and i am shaking.
it is summer and i want to crawl through your second-story
window and tell you about the butterfly i saw and named "cloudcityscandal,"
but you are always asleep and dreamless.
it is summer and whenever i sleep i only dream about you, so how is that fair.
it is summer and i don't go to church but spend all my time confessing.
it is summer and i don't discharge static before pumping gas.
it is summer and where is my paradise. where is my sanity.
where is my personal weight-loss consultant and complimentary iced beverage.
it is summer and i am already wishing it were spring.
when i was five i made a green and purple
friendship bracelet at summer camp.
i don't know where it is,
but sometimes it's all i want.
you and i hike up past the clouds until
the rain and cold can't touch us.
we have three bruised shins and two quiet
arguments between us, and we name them summer.
(you climb moun
kitestrings.you confessed that when you were little you would pull apart monarch butterflies because they were much too beautiful--More Like This
so beautiful that they made you feel uneasy.
(you always did call me the most beautiful thing you'd ever known.)
it's almost december now, and the only reason i wish you were here is so you could make snow angels and i could rip off their wings.
you wanted a kite for your birthday, so i got you one that was shaped like a bat and we took it to the beach, watched it crash into the surf over and over until it was bent and broken. i rescued it from the tide and surfaced dripping saltwater -- you told me i looked like the goddess of sailors lost at sea.
after that day you put the kite in the back of your closet and forgot about it, but immediately began talking about getting a new one.
that could fly higher.
i sometimes tell myself that we were never meant to be because i was stuck in the ocean watching people drown while you were hanging from
letters from no one.dear someone,More Like This
i know you probably don't care.
i know you're probably busy watching tv or dealing with your own problems, or maybe you're busy laughing and chasing butterflies. maybe you spend afternoons in the grass, smelling the sun and tasting life.
maybe you don't have time to worry about me.
but i'm going to pretend you care. i just want someone to hear me, honestly.
i don't expect you to understand or care or even listen.
i'm just hoping that you will.
i guess i should start by telling you that i wish i didn't have to live anymore. free time is spent wondering if there's any way i could possibly suffocate myself.
i guess i should tell you that i'm sorry about this, but the problem is i'm not.
there's a constant throbbing behind my eyes. i dream of cliff jumping (i've heard it feels like flying). i sleep with ice in my nervous heart, and reality slowly melts into nightmares.
i think of life as a waterfall. hope and happiness and love fall into the hands of the people