Light bulb eyes,
burning through me like
crash into me
as I dream,
your ocean spits me out
through seaweed teeth,
and I love you,
but you blink light
and breathe water,
so not only am I blind,
I am drowning.
hey boy, I'm bleeding without youI guess you could say I've been infatuated with death,
but I'm even more consumed by you
in the deadliest way possible.
helium balloon lungsi. You write me notes scribbled on sandpaper
and I run them across my face,
scraping away layers of saccharine skin,
ii. Your eyes, made of cookie crumbs,
I'd like to dip them in milk
and watch them melt,
smoking like dry ice,
iii. You churn my childish heart
in circles and in circles
till I slip into cardiac arrest,
iv. I just remembered that time you
wrapped your arms around me like vines
and held me until you couldn't,
v. Oh what I'd give for a pair of
fortune cookie lungs,
exhaling self-fulfilling prophecy,
vi. I've been fishing for horoscopes,
pasting them onto my bedroom walls
and on the backside of my skin,
hoping that they tell me that
today is the day you will be mine,
vii. But your soul is made up of sins
and I do believe in forgiveness,
but forgive me, for I cannot forget.
a taxidermy fawn,
existing yet comatose,
my soul flickers within a lantern,
releasing a smoke with the scent of
pheromones and vanilla verbena,
but your necromantic whispers
linger in my ears,
so sweet and succulent as peaches,
give me breath,
filling my lungs upon a full moon,
oh i'd so like to take a bite of you,
you and your jungle bred lips,
tropical to taste,
organic to kiss,
jaguar, leopard spots
cover your skin
in patterns painted by the forest,
then a low, throaty growl
slips from your jaw,
haunting me like a past mistake,
but you are wild bamboo
and the sound of my heart beating,
palpitating against soft winters,
pulsing with the rhythm of summer,
for some reason you suit me
in all seasons,
and like gravity
you hold me
so no, i cannot escape you,
for no one can bypass
an autumnal equinox
or an eclipse of the sun,
you only continue to
kindle the flames
you used my wooden ribs to make
and i truly love
that searing sensation in my gut,
steamI'm sprouting crow feathers from my scapulas
while the air is much too thick to swallow,
my body melts into a pool of oil,
poisoning already noxious waters,
Then you find me in the ocean's center
and the water starts to boil
as we become the equator
and lose ourselves under the sun.
i want you because i shouldn't want you at alli want you like i want succulent strawberries dripping over a white lacy dress,
i want you like i want complete silence on a sweltering august night,
i want you like it's dead rats melting over hot gutters and then it's your hot guts on my body.
i want you and your collarbones tied to my strings of saliva,
i want you smelling like you're some wild wolverine with incisors as sharp as rose petals,
i want you broken and bleeding just so i can nourish your wounds.
i want you dangerously close and always so,
i want you angry as you are passionate,
i want you in ways i don't even understand.
as we become ghostsThe air is smooth and thin,
running over my shoulders like buttermilk,
curling wax fingers
and smoke escaping my oak tree bones,
I don't know where I'll end up yet but
I know I'm close,
and I know I'm close because I'm still breathing,
inhaling that charred floral scent
where dahlias are breeding in the curves of my collarbone
and lilacs are blooming between each vertebrae,
intertwining with every rib, climbing them like strands of DNA,
oh you know I wouldn't mind if you used my ribs for a ladder,
go ahead and use me up like some sort of construction worker,
for my body is yours to take, my heart to break,
but I should let you know now that this love is a disease,
it will leave you in ruins with teeth like Aztec tombs rotting inside your mouth,
and it will leave your hands forming empty circles in the sky where the stars should be,
but all of this is okay because when we're together I can see the moon in your eyes
and the sun in your lips,
when they dare form a smile, your kiss
RattlingThe air is still too crisp for my morning skin,
honeydew lungs are ra-ra-rattling and I'm sipping on ice water,
water is made up of such beautiful things,
reflections, refractions, waves, and liquidated lifeforms,
are we dead or are we dying?
I love you, I love you, I love you
and I've only just forgotten to tell you,
so take your molten fingertips and melt me down
oh please just burn down my firewood ribs as death clings to yours,
I am never alone when I am being held by your lonely ghost,
held, hold, holding,
no, I am never alone.
let your wildfire run freei. It's a warm kind of rain and a growling kind of thunder,
throaty and crackling booms,
I've dreamt of this place before,
there's this room made up of tall glass windows,
outside is a wrap around balcony made up of stone with high ledges,
small fir trees grow in between the crackled rock
and I'm breathing slow, soaking in the sky's sweat.
ii. Perspiring and porous clouds melt over this broken land
and I'm realizing this place lives only inside my soul when sleeping.
iii. It is a hazy painting running over the contours of my unconscious mind,
it is airbrushed afterthoughts swirling with watercolor wishes,
it is the place where my nightmares breed and my hopes climb trees,
it is the place where intuition ricochets off instinct,
it is the place that says burn the place down and let your wildfire run free.
you are my careful ghosti. The air is thick and I'm drinking you in like sunlight through a silver straw,
I'm feeling like my spine has come unzipped and my crayola red innards have become exposed to the cool air,
you're like the slivers in my fingers that I can't pull out,
maybe I should try scraping off layers of skin with tweezers,
goodbye dead cells, hello fresh meat,
damn, why are you so fresh as fuck.
ii. A whirlpool has developed beneath my chest so there goes my sense of sanity,
actually it's more like boiling water, bubbling, spewing out passed my eyes,
and all I've been asking for is for you to either take me or let me go,
let's be honest, I could try to say I am over this whole thing
but I'm not and I don't even want to be.
iii. So let's forget the world,
get lost in each others skin,
tracing ribs like jail bars,
running hands over heartbeats,
brushing lips with lonely aches.
short-term memory.and you'll never forget:
When you realized that everybody dies alone.
When you didn't take your eyeliner off one night, so in the morning
your eyes would look as hollow as you felt.
When you spent a year blacking out the sad endings in your books.
(When you wished that life could also work like that.)
When you learnt that "We need a break" means "I am going to break your heart."
When you fell in love with the stars, and the way he says "us."
When he told you, "More than just a long time."
The first time you hung up to the sound of your father laughing.
When you walked home from a party in January, and couldn't remember
if you were still breathing.
When you begged him to let you be sad, and he smiled and said, "No."
When you saw the irony of drawing trees on paper – and how alive you've felt
after being sure you were dead.
Shake It OffSelective collective
- coagulating -
regret accumulating against you.
Re - living it was the easy part.
No way. There was no light.
the glow of a ghost.
- heart murmurs -
I paused to savor the expansion of blood in my arteries.
A declaration of demons
- monstrosity -
But honestly, I was just like them. I just wanted my pound of flesh.
Beautiful EyesThey speak to me, spilling your secrets, opening your soul.
There's nothing you can hide in your beautiful eyes,
As golden and magical as the morning sunrise.
They're a kaleidoscope of emotion.
Whispers of unwritten stories in each little fleck of green,
Murmuring tales of broken hearts, visits to the between.
The depth of your pain, your albatross
Spins in those eyes, plunging down, down, fathomless;
Yet, they sparkle at a distance, boundless, fearless.
I drown in those eyes, listening eagerly to the stories.
I am lost in your ageless soul...
Be Mine ForeverHold me tight; stroke my hair,
Kiss my lips and twirl me in mid air.
Call me Luv; watch me pray,
Lock me in your arms and caress away.
Sing me songs; brush my tears,
Just let me clutch and my fears shall disappear.
Recite my jokes; and the silly bed-time stories,
Make me accept and bring back the glory.
Be my hope; the one who always inspires,
As you are the one who my heart desires.
Be my strength; show me light,
Watch the stars be aligned tonight.
Show me reality; make me believe.
Else love is the last thing I shall ever perceive.
VoidNever make someone your everything,
Because when they make you their nothing,
Nothing is all you're left with.
Nights RainWe're standing in the rain
Lips connected like this is our last night
Pain intermingled with hope
Love threaded in our grasp
Your voice is just a raspy whisper against my ear
"I love you" my dear,
I love you more than words can display
And yet - everyday
I love you more and more and I must say
"I love you too", my breath just a tickle against your neck
Our bodies pressed close, where the seams end, I dont know...
we're standing in the rain
Staring up into the sky
And I'm no longer asking why
Why must days come to an end
and in this my mind sends,
my heart the messege, and I am sending it right to you
my dreams have become my reality
And suddenly my fairy tales have come true
for I have found them all in you.
Things That You Should KnowI tried to tell you:
You are air and you are glitter
You are smiles
But you shook away the magic
You are cells and I am cells and nothing lasts forever
Maybe I am cells but you are stardust, you are music, you are midnight
Because I know
You have to be made of
Than the diagrams in my textbook
So AloneTis the season of the gray,
More boreal than wintertide,
While fireplaces can warm my palms,
Can their embers thaw my soul?
Can they bring back a blithe memory?
Or a recollection of a long lost heyday,
Solicitously saved, oh so cautiously cached,
So I may call upon it on at a pluvial time,
And as I concede to this immedicable disease,
It is curious, to be cheered by one's own enemies,
The jarring repercussion of this heinous malady,
Make my rivals too afflicted to make me bleed,
Make me a shadow, a phantasm, a sprite,
Oh make me an onyx blot in the umbral night,
Let me be torn from the binding pages of history,
And forgotten by the wrinkled brow of time,
For a life without companions, consorts and crones,
Is but death, deprived of its placidity,
It is a laggard descent, I am going insane,
When I long for love just as I long for pain,
But I endure the lack of desire and despair,
And continue with my poverty of amour and zeal,
Whilst my frenzied heart beats,
But I, try as I may, cannot f
One Kiss From HimIt seems one kiss from him was all it took,
the glass facade has splintered, leaving
spiders webs distorting her appearance,
like some worn out, battered cover of a book.
So now she finds it hard to catch his eye.
Perhaps it's for the best; their feelings
never had the lift to leave the surface,
of a freezing ground that sapped their will to fly.
SnowLet's lose our faces tonight
Chemical anxiety and paper highs
Thrown to the curb by something stronger, small and white
While stars burn out their insides; Prometheus in the sky.
I always thought you were a lie:
Stinking pop culture curling bright around my eye
But now I wonder if your treasure is something I could find
Leaping from the bass lines into my frenzied, eager mind.
frozen/headlightsI am nervous
impressed to the point of
perhaps I am playing the part of
a girlchild, reincarnated from something striped
hands-shaking, violin bones (high-
perhaps it is/has been/will be
is it cliché to make comparisons to
an envelope delivered with a
white settling of
your smile tangles with the
half-poetry you breathe out instinctively, sharp and
you are surprising like
frostbite. the soft teeth of morning
freeze; and I, dull, wordless,
naive and lightning-struck
I am nervous
upsmokewhen thinking of you
i like a smoke or six
drive a poisonstick
deep into my lungs
rot might reach my brain
erase our wheezing laughs
nights of nicotine haze
smog mixing with sweat
you're fumes of a cig
wispy, wonderful whirls
absorbed into corners
never to be seen again
smelling of burnt skin
i'm pulled from nostalgia
and light another match
Ghost StoryWhat is this
on the next horizon
holding strong against the wind,
it is a figment,
it is an oil stain,
it is something
less than a blur
and more than a photograph.
InkShe looked around the box she was trapped in
As she took the knife and cut open her chest
All that was left of importance to her was her broken pen
Breathing in and out, slowly
Her box was filling with ink...
It was time
She jabbed the pen in her chest
Her wishes skimmed the last of her sanity
Trying to remember when the world was bright
Instead of covered with dark
Her blood turned black
Still obbsessing with her story book dreams
Of taking her pathetic thoughts of insanity
And making her pen drip poetry
So she grabbed her notebook
Her fake reality in stazas
As the snake slithered out of her chest
Her fingers shook as she used her own darkness
Her inky soul to write her last words
For the power of the pen
Poisoned her on the inside
Made her sanity spin out racing thoughts
And pooling ink in the hidden corners of her mind
Until her breaths slowly filled with ink
Turning the coners of her mouths up
As the ink rose in her box
For her eyes cried ink when the gash was made
Death Plays the PianoAnd he's not bad either.
Arrived at the third funeral today, the sun
Was shining, the bouquets and wreaths
All in their respective vases, their dignified
Grief, yes, no one
No one really knows
Why he showed up.
Now here's the room, we'll hold the service
Here, right where there
Is enough room, there's
Plenty of room where that came from.
And the casket, open
We don't want the body
Unseen like the circumstances
That led to
He's really quite good isn't he?
Skeleton hands and everything?
Must've had a lot of practice, with
These types of things.
Death plays the piano, well
Who would have thought?
You can hear Comptine
D'un Autre Été
From the movie "Amélie"
Fall in little cascades
Down on the grass gardens
At this time of year.
Your face, my friend
Has never been so lovely.
The body? Oh, yes.
The river's at the seams
Charon, be a dear.
Here's five-and-a-half pounds
WaitingA few minutes too late
a couple hours too early
But what difference does it make
when you're gone
I'm tired of waiting
The GateHe stands at the gate,
his smile proud and reassuring,
as he watches his baby girl
on her first day at kindergarten.
She turns around
her tiny pink lips wobbling
and her searching eyes filling up with tears,
until she finds him,
sees his reassuring face,
and then she smiles; a brave little soldier's smile
25 years later
he finds himself standing at another gate,
an airport railing,
as he watches his child
and her child
walk into their new future.
She turns around
and this time
it's his eyes that well up in tears,
his breath that hitched slightly,
and her smile
that washes over him in reassurance