we all knowa gunis alwaysa threat.
the hand ofshe coughs upbrittle wings,bright as a drizzleof sparks.tries singing,but sharp.starlings in flightpart ways withthe beats of theirhearts.she remarksin cursive, sees the wordsloop and flourishand dismember her garden.her embersharden and shatter;she's a smatteringof shards andnumbness.parched and unableto drink, unableto see, she's guarding herface with her hands.she coughs upswashes and seraphim;god is a fontof obsession.meant for a lesson,they observe hercursing.
undoingthe demon's inthe details,checking her grammar andbanishing commasto hell."you summonbut cannot spellworth a damn,"it growled, rattlingthe monitor."well fuck me, right,"she spat. "must be busyrunning a firmand my social lifeinto the ground.meanwhile,you and your horrid kinget to bask in the soundof my sweet command."the demon triedto stifle a grin,but insteadaccidentally deletedevery wordin the document.it looked back,panicked, from the blank screen.luckily she was filing,back to the desk.it muttered"what is that basicnecromancy, two keys...alt+f4?"and with a shriekit accepted death.
piercing gazeit cuts a cross sectionthrough her, asks of hereverything, doesn't takeno.she reflectsonly in her mind,in mirrorsher formlessnessis betrayed.void as the dayshe firstthought to try,crushed as the hopefor correctingright.she would neverthink her eyescould shine.
little warmthsi.she traces the patternof the damask wallpaperbehind her desk, she's alwaysbeen in love with theflourish. she smiles,warm sunbeams coaxing herto peacefulness.this is the mostsafe space she has everbetrayed.ii.she runs her fingertipalong the side of theblade, she wonders whatit tastes like, she's onestep away.she staysquiet, turns off the desklamp. sits in the silenceof midnight.it is tooloud,she cries.iii.she traces a fewveins, contemplatesnaming them.considers sharing themwith strangerson the internet,waits for a minutethen digs her nails intoher skin.she knowsthey would tell herto do itagain.iv.she runs her credit carddebt up, purchasesred wine, lipstick, andsex stuff, items fora fun nightalone.her desk chair isa throne made forquivering.in the morning,she gathers up everythingshe touched in a trashbag.throws it all awayand enviesliving.v.she trades her damaskwallpaper for darker shades,solid as the way herpupils appear.all
emodynamicsi.this room feels familiar. i could draw it, eyes closed.it rests right in the brightest corner of my mind. i open the window.light streams in and the cool air calms me further. i could draw the curtains.i prefer them open; the sun warms my timid skin.i smile to myself, at home.ii.this room feelsfamiliar. i could always tellit would come to haunt. itsets my hair on edge withmy teeth matching. i open mymouth but it is silent. night streamsin and pools in my stomach. i could drawblood; i prefer my veinsopen. someone warn myfrigid skin.i bury myself, alone.iii.this is noroom—it isheat-death,a raw quasarbegging forentropy.it rests anddies accordingly.i open myselfto the end of time.i worry none.
11 3i've been sitting underthe same tree for days and nowthe leaves are leaving and nowthe bark is peeling andis this what they talk aboutwhen the sparks all flickerout?i've been stoned enoughtimes to be called a martyr andmy mind's been getting hazylatelyhow do they expect me to answerall these prayers?i'm not a saint, i've just gotno grasp on sin.
Lovely knees, scraped elbowsshe wishes she has lovely knees, instead she has a lovelyway to see the world. she doesn't believe in umbrellas, onlythe stars in the midnight sky and the raindrops running downher neck, arms, legs, spine.she knows things that most will find useless: there are morestars in outer space than there are grains of sand on earth. dogshave over three hundred facial expressions, mostly made withtheir ears. the average person will spend two weeks waitingfor the traffic lights to change in their lifetime.she wonders: what if stars are just dead pixels in the sky? whatif they are specks with worlds living in them? that would meanthat we are just a speck to someone who thinks they are alonein the universe.she does not get along with logic. logic is not wisdom, creativityis. she wakes up in the middle of the night and scribbles herthoughts on post it notes: through the forest, down to your bones.the air sleeps under people's beds. when we get there, we'llbe lost again: send me a po
FrostI am devouring chaos,chasing it down with winter's chill.Spare me your fingerprints,summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyeshave me second guessing the wild churningin my bones. You are the sleep that sweepsmy eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.When was it...that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
Battle CryI write poetry to ghosts in my dreamsawakening with ink stained sheetsfrom nights I can't remember,meaningless phantom words upon my flesh.And this cigarette between my fingertipstaunts me,"Hey baby, heycatch me on fireand I'll burn you away." I laugh, hollowunafraid of flames & smoke & shadows.I've felt it all before.I'm washing away the ink with homemaderemedies. Like it never was;Like I never was.But there is love on my arms nowsmirking and itching away at me.I'll claw it out a hundred times overbecause remembering youthat is worse than self-inflicted injury.
Aura: The ResparkAura: The ResparkI, the sheltered child who started to tragically fall from your graceInto the void of this sudden lonelinessRealizing I followed every single one of your stepsBut yet, I failed to hold onto those uplifting momentsNow I feel as if maybe I had forced you to make every one of those promisesThat which you still keptSo I don't want to sound dishonest, but out of us, you are the strongestYou make sure to protectTo you, everyone, and everything is dearestNone left to neglectBut with all of that, you take on those heavy burdensAnd try your bestCalling out your name into the nothingnessForgetting about the peace you bestowed upon meI guess it's just too hard to be away from
CuddleI want to be heldWithin your comforting armsNothing being saidJust listening to musicWith your chinResting on my headOne arm across my neckThe other playing with my hairHolding me closeIt shows me that you careLeaning up ageanist your chestListening to you breathI feel completly safeWhen you are holding me
You.You told me onceyou would break my stars,tear them from the sky and devour thems l o w l y.I neglected to tell youthey all had their own feelingsand your bruises form my own constellationin the quiet valleys of my firefly skin.I am the milky way.And you, my sweet-You are nothing morethan a dead starwith a pretty name.
VampireVampireA living oxymoronAn immortalOr a corpse?A bringer of deathOr a savior of life?A curseOr a blessing?On the brink of deathAnd saved by a vampire's biteBecoming free of disease and natural deathAt the prime of your lifeAnd having it taken by a vampireDropped into the abnormal darknessTo be a living humanBlind to the beauty of the worldAnd ignorant to the problemsOr a vampireAble to see our faultsAble to understand the true meaning of thingsSo which is it better to be?Human or vampireAlways aging to a final deathOr living forever without worrySurviving in ignoranceOr existing in understandingA heavy priceBut the rewards greatYou have to askIs the cost of life worth it?Most people sayThat vampires don't existBut if you look closely aroundYou see themMaybe not devilish creatures like you expectThose hell-destined beings that find their pleasure from our veinsBut dark souls, sad and desperateDesperate for a feelingThese people you will seeAnd bein
how to tell me my scars are beautiful.leave roses with thorns on my stairwell, the kindthat would entice me when i was fourteen but nowserve as silent irritation—when we eat steak, useyour thinnest, sharpest knife to cleave the meatinto tiny squares and let me watch you wash itand put it away when you’re done—open yourpackages with your trusty pocket knife, peterpan boy scout, and when i move in, let meborrow it; don’t question the t-shirts i orderin winter and the sweatshirts i order during thesweltering heat of summer—when i lay beside youat night and talk about the state of the universethat day, nibble on my ear, scratch my arm, slapmy rump until i giggle and push you away, finallyready to fall into the quiet abyss of dark and sleep
wildlandgears stuckwith ribsrub shivsthrough deerskulls splitin fifthsdumb hungerfixedfox wispslure spearsdull spitof lipsnumb lickof waspwhips crossedsips fearfrom lostlimb frostveers sickand slopsslip-softgrip nearexhaustionstops