Sunday, November 8, 2009

legs lit bright with the soft peach fuzz of winter
the fall of blonde, the autumn of red.
the growing strands that tickle the air around when i walk
all small and simple things, feminine and shadowed
wisps of cigarette smoke, the dip of a waist
golden freckles splattered over porcelain.
you are the greatest creation

and i am the sun that marks your bedroom floor

Monday, November 2, 2009

hold on, yoko, yoko, hold on

got this hopeless feeling lodged in my chest
and i hope you read this
keep pulling at my hair hoping someday i'll stop
and i hope you read this
i feel as if i'm diving back into the warm darkness of a mistake
but i want to see
but i want to hold
at the end of the day

(but i miss everything else)

will you hold my hand?
i hope you read this, boy
(will you forgive me?
i hope you read this, boy)

oh, fuck, i need to stop being so serious.

Thursday, October 22, 2009


home 'sick'.
so much has happened. i feel emotionally exhausted.
learning my limits.
this isn't coming from my brain, i don't even know what i look like anymore.
i try and see myself, and i can't.
if love is noticing all the little things' significance, is depression love?
is life love?
i've got a lot of questions, but i can't expect any answers.
too much input- not enough output.
curiosity gets the best of me- i'll die by my own hand someday.
writing a book in the mountains doesn't sound so awful right now.
it is impossible for me to be alone

that fact leaves me in a mix of trapped and reassured.
mostly trapped.
i don't know who i am
and i can't handle a room of screaming kids right now.
and probably never, not this month at least.
i've got so much shit to do and if i let it slide over my head maybe i could make it out alive
but i can't let that happen
it means so much in some weird way
i want this year to be perfect. i want to learn my limits and weirdness and be able to control myself
out of control is not a good attitude for school
but i feel like i'm not the one making the decisions.
everything exists
in some strange way

i just want a stretch of time where i'm happy.
where i deal with things
and learn from it
and move forward
and know the direction i'm heading

it's not fair to you, boy. it's not fair.
those fucking hormones are pulling me by a chain
and i'm far too scared of the dangers of life without it
it's how they reel you in
by month

i'm almost sick of this place already
and i want to be in love with everything happpening to me
but i've got no memory
and that's the only thing holding me to it all

not to sound so hopeless, of course.
i need to simmer down
i need to take it one problem at a time
i need to stop cutting my teeth on it all
the cuticles, the follicles, the pills, the cigarettes.
one item at a time

i need more sleep, i need isolated help.
first therapy tonight, cross your fingers.
maybe talking about me will do some good.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

when we made love you used to cry

i'm happy, i promise.
just as confused as ever
but at least i've got a rope to pull me through the cloud.
grabbing in the dark
pale arm extended above your head
moonlit bones
i can't find you lately
but i'll search till i do

i'm happy, i promise.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

the feel of a waltz runs through your fingers,

shivers and twists, and still it lingers.

when i miss you,
i cry.
i pound my baby-tiny fists into the twisted dreaded woven mess of overdyed underbleached fuckups galore that lies in my scalp and grows its way into nowhere; headaches abound, i weep.
i press my face into whatever material i can grasp onto, feeling the spot on my thigh where we last brushed like it's a battle scar, wonder and memory controlling my senses. i feel the heat seep from my face as i simply cry into space, moving and writhing my body in the darkness to try and extract some sort of comfort from these sheets that envelop me.

(i could write novels of remembrance, of how your voice cannot even comfort, how your presence is all my body craves, how vivid my memories can be, how we are each one's halves, how we are magnetized by the poles; but no amount of literary purging can make these feelings depart.)

when i cannot bring the feeling of your proximity to my consciousness,
no sun can warm me, no drug can cure me. i am the same as the stormcloud ahead, looming slow and sad and scary above every tiny happy intertwined fingers, resting between hips on the sofa, watching tv with a head rested on a shoulder.
i want to electric-volt zap every little conglomerate like they're the scum of the earth, daring to whisper sweet nothings to the inner ear.

i can't help but miss you, boy. you know my trouble with loneliness and now the option to crawl back to every poison lip, every nettled touch that ever rested on my form, well, it's gone. you are my protector from each cruel slap to sanity, each bad decision placed at my choosing. and of course i thank you, of course i worship your presence, of course i cry for the familiarity that tingles in the skin on my inner arms.
like a stolen antique from an old house;
the patterned dust screams of a thief.

one day, some day,
we can fall asleep close each and every night
and need not worry of the hour on the clock
you're my cinderella boy; gone always at the stroke of twelve.

i know it makes you sad to see me cry, but it's for you.
i'd rather be crying alone for a heart halfway home in a big white truck, than a heart beating next to mine, as i lay kept awake by the hate for the body.
peace and love always.

Sunday, June 7, 2009


i have more future than i ever imagined nowadays
springing from my fingertips and the ends of brain neurons
the longest cells in your body are the ones that run from your spine to the tips of your toes
but they never took interconnection into consideration

i can feel that i love you.
i always miss your hands and your face in front of mine
red cheeks to kiss and eyelids to close
we learn with each other every moment we spend in the presence
i love the taste of your drink on your lips
and your voice when you slur and smile and i can almost see
i am saying everything to
someone i can say anything to
i am trying my hardest not to let how lucky i know i am to get lost
even when it does it always comes back

lets not get too routine
i don't need what you do
and my time will come
patience is key

i have bruises on my knees
and more broken blood vessels

i have never been this close to anyone ever before
i never want to be this close to anyone else but you
ever again

if i am your gem then you are my emerald eye prince
if i were only a jewel on your finger
with the grace to see the face each day
i'd be content

like two atoms in a molecule
we are inseparably combined

love letters with a recipient
i can't thank the gods enough

Monday, May 4, 2009

well, fuck.

it was all feeling before, now i've fucked myself over with my past again. the mindset of a whore, a teenage girl, typical in every way, naked pictures of herself spread across a useless boy's consciousness so thin, just for one compliment texted in the late hours, barely registered with the shame in her brain. sex. finger fucking. the explicit details run thick. look away. now i'm dreaming of your rejection and differences and proximity. i know i don't want you. i know i don't want this. i don't fucking want this. i want what i've found, so lucky, waited for so long. going slow is such a foreign concept to me it makes my eyes water with my own self-pity. i want pure and clumsy and true and loving, and i don't want to fuck it over with who i've been. i need to escape the old feelings, old habits, old numbers, old me old me old me, drowning my former self in a bathtub doesn't seem like such a bad idea. i want a warm hand to hold, not a cold one getting me off only to sleep on their own side of the bed before morning. i don't want secret exchanges with a boy who won't look at me in the eye the next morning, especially one i'm far too embarrassed of to tote around anywhere. i don't want to reject love anymore. i fucking want love, not want fucking love. i want you, i want you, i want you. i want you in every moment of your being. i want you in every inch of your body. i want yo u in every cell in your brain. i want you to know. i need you to know. i've never felt such a pure feeling with you and i fucking need you to know. i don't want semantics, i don't want bullshit, i want you and you and you and only you. i want butterflies in my belly, not pulse in a sex organ. so fucking lucky to have found you, i am not going to fuck this up. inadequacy complex swallowing me whole. only, i don't even know if it's okay to speak like this, i don't even know if this is within our realm. i don't know if we're to this stage again, i feel trapped by social laws i could feel before but i'm blindly reaching at now. my mind is so fucked over i can't even speak and it's best you didn't answer the phone. i need to tell you, though. i'm a lie, i'm a lie, i'm a lie. i'm not a precious little girl with her heart crossed and hope to die, i'm not. i was before i let myself give in to cliches and senses and pure want, loneliness complex flaring up like never before. i only wanted a hand to hold, a body warm, a moment of something i could pass off as happiness. funny enough, they were hardly that. wolf in a sheep's clothing, all fucking over againandagainandagainandagain. i know you're not. i know you're not. i know. and i'm sorry you chose me, this fucked up little thing torturing herself with every bad thought, every bad movement, every bad word done and said until the sobs wrack me to sleep.
i've sobbed under a computer desk late at night, gasping for breath and clutching the phone at my ear, asking why why why why can't i fall in love? why can they feel it and why can't i? why do they mean it when they say it and i don't?
well, the pathological liar found someone in the end.
i don't even know what else to say. i miss you. i need you. i apologize for the position in which you've been placed.
this is unplanned. i'm sorry.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

help, i'm alive.

if all i am is piano lines in e minor
and all those other sad things
then i wish to have my moments of joy
to smile without substance
and to remember
having ringing in your ears is alright
when you can sing along.

the contrast is incredible.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

i'm not trying to spout something profound. this is just the way it is now.

like the little girl in the movie
with the dried flowers in her mouth
pulling her hair and screaming
and holding hands
and zoning out
and it's okay
because we accept you.
we're all accepting here.
all accepting here.
accepting here.

i'm not writing for you.
i don't know why i'm writing.

never been more gone.
gone, gone, gone.
get used to the feeling, kid.
get used to this.
i'm no longer using metaphors.
my life is late.

sorry, mom. sorry, god.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

everyone is exactly who they are.

"i'm a million different people from one day to the next. i can change."

when i can,
i want to live free.
take picture of mountains.
tan my skin in the sun of the coast.
abandon base.
couch dive, dumpster hop.
wear the same clothes for weeks at a time.
bathe in rivers.
hop a plane to the east.
confined to nothing.
not even baggage claim.
when i can,
i'm tangling my mouse brown hair into dreads.
stripping my bones down bare.
ribbons on my wrist claim my wishes.
i will escape my family.
i will get out.
i will be okay.
i will sleep on picnic tables on the beach.
i'll be okay.
i'll be okay.

Monday, February 9, 2009

when i awoke

the new definition for the word wallflower.

"Mary Magdalen, she said to me, “This is the pain of being a woman,” and she traced a red line around her breast.
She said, “I’m sorry,” and “that didn’t make me feel any better,” and she started to bleed."

i will bottle these feelings and drink them the nights i can't cry.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

deja vu deja vu deja vu deja vu deja vu deja vu

less is more. less to say is more to say. less to say to you is more to say to them.
it's another family problem.
it's another avoidance strategy.
it's another threat-and-challenge.
it's another defense put up when i thought it was okay to tear them down.
it's another thing to fuck with my head again.

i don't want to deal with this again.
i don't want to sleep to escape. again.
i don't want this to boil down to breakdowns and therapists.

but tales of mockery and insults and the way he doesn't know how to live on the outside,
the way he treats us all like inmates, the way we diagnose him on our own, the way we fight, the way we react.
the way i can't walk downstairs when i want for fear of being stopped.
the way i feel the grip of control at the nape of my neck and the lump in my throat called defiance, the way i can't stop it from shouting out my arguments, my final say, my heartbreaking last line.

"can't we just get along?"
"i don't want to get along with you."

Thursday, January 22, 2009

you know the feeling, right?

when you a song from a time when you didn't feel good but you felt comfortable. when you realized the difference between content and happy. your answer was never what you wanted. and it still isn't.
i don't want to talk about it. i just want to sleep. escape.
it's enough to make me scream over wire lines, hang up with tear stains on the screen. it's enough to write about it, it's enough melodrama to hold a captive audience, it's enough to shut me down and shut me off.
almost every surprise i've ever gotten in my life has been a bad one. nearly all change has brought late nights and 'sorry' mornings.
i'm trapped.
i just want to go home. and i can't.