blue born licorice whips,
weaving webs for blood spiders on my thighs,
thin cerulean shoelaces tying knots around my wrists,
hold fast, heartbeats pumping like gasoline,
I am living, but I am not alive.
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.
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.
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.
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.
sometimes i imagine i'm a bird and it's all okayI'm staring through the kitchen window,
the moon looks like it might be a warm place to be,
soft glow, pale light,
sometimes I wonder if it would look better if you were standing next to me,
no, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't,
desperation doesn't make astronomy any prettier,
and it certainly doesn't do my self worth any justice,
but your eyes are like the milky way,
they take me away,
but distant turns to empty and emotionless until the sun has gone and caved in on itself,
it's golden hot beeswax melting in circles because star-hot sinking sand refuses to lets go,
now it's all oh, I've got this scorched tongue that soaks up sunrises when you're not here,
please forgive me for I can't control the fact that it's two minutes passed 1
or the fact that you've already been taken by some girl with tattooed thighs,
now I've got these backwards knees and disjointed thumbs,
it's too bad what you've done to me,
I mean the way your arms felt--
I do not need this,
I am a tortured spider
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.
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.
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,
i am october's love letter to novemberhopeful,
so the same and stretched out like skin over bone,
but different because one means everything and
one takes everything away.
i am not used to this kind of way,
the way where scratches don't heal and bruises grow bigger.
i try to focus on the bass and let the music pulse through me,
allow it to remove the nerve endings to my thoughts
because i want hair that's made up of bass clefs and double stops.
i want the world to come crashing down at my feet
so the ocean fuses with the burning salmon sun-drops that are molding under the collapsing sky.
it will look like citrus fruit bleeding onto royal blue flowing skirts,
it will taste like a cold copper penny,
it will smell like ripe coconut milk braided with kerosene,
and it will feel like you've been bathing in hummingbird nectar that's been set on fire.
then again, how would i know what music tastes like,
it's not like you can lick vocal chords or bite into someone's vibrato,
everything fluctuates and now i don't even know
Ignore AdviceWrite ten bad poems.
Write one hundred
Write and drink.
Keep a notebook with you,
write in public
and make sure that others
know that you are, in fact,
Write a love poem,
then throw it away
because all the good ones
have already been read.
write about the decision
instead of the feeling.
Write one sentence
say to yourself that
this is it, THIS is IT.
and tell yourself that again.
The Last LetterColin,
I know you need space, but I want you to know some things. I don't regret a single day I spent with you. I am so lucky to have had the chance to spend part of life with you. You were my best friend and boyfriend. I couldn't have asked for anything more. You taught me so much about life, love, music, friendship and countless other things.
I completely redefined my idea of love because of you. I believe that what we had was real. It didn't last but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. I hope you feel the same way. I know you won't be open with me like we used to be, but I hope that if you are ever in need of a friend you know you can come to me. I still care.
I know you no longer love me, but I hope I will always hold a special place in your heart. When you think of something we did together, I hope you smile. I will always love you and cherish every memory. Someday, the pain will stop, I'll move on and maybe love again. But you will always be my first and I hope you will
SeducersWet they offer themselves
Delicate like a kiss kept in ice
Hunters with lust-filled veins
On show pretending to be nice
Looking for a prey to devour
But bitten they want to be too
I dream of them every hour
And of them I'll fall prey too
They tease me and play
My lust belongs now to them
They control my every way
My passion tied to their chains
Red, glowing, inviting
I want , I thirst, I desire
Dripping, juicy, seducing
I die, I crave, I need
Sensually calling my name
Whispers subjugate my will
Biting, tracing my flesh in pain
Powerless they make me feel
I surrender and let myself go
For to those lips I can't say no.
cadavershe was born with arctic lips
and overcast skin.
her hair fell like fresh snow
and she was far too thin.
her bones in locked closets,
joints creaked and shrieked
like a rotten floorboard
under gossamer feet.
i pulled a napkin from the silver tin,
wiped the table clear, drops of ketchup staining the center.
i crushed the paper in my palm, felt the dampness reach the edges.
hurt cloud, she said as i let it roll across the table.
shooting baskets as the day ended,
the ball went over the backboard, disappeared into the dark.
she shrugged, then bent low, picked up pebbles.
your poor hands, she said. you have so many scars,
and you're still so young. (she, younger than i, saying this)
she touched one hand, then after a pause she took the other
without looking at me.
some things take so much courage.
we sat like that for a long time,
i passed two old women by the river.
one stopped, pulled off her shoe
and shook a pebble out.
it dropped into the water
and she continued on,
from the absence dented into her foot.
the other had stopped a ways ahead.
she waited and said, a pebble?
the woman nodded. her whole life
biopsyput me under, cover my face, stuff my lungs with your chemical lies.
if they were to take me apart,
slice open my chest,
peel back the skin keeping me whole,
they would find:
a. one heart, slowly ticking.
(they would not find anything,
but they would have to say they did.
after all, girls can't live without a heart.
they forget that i'm not the first:
a score of girls walking even though
they should have faded long ago.)
b. each rib curved so perfectly,
a shield around my lungs.
(a cage, keeping my breath from bursting
out of my skin. know that this is just me,
held together by nature,
unable to lose control of myself.)
c. two sacs of cells, nestled beside each other.
(no first-hand smoke here, no sir.
only second-hand dust, only
things i could not get rid of,
only bits of places i've been,
caught in my body.
postcards of memories i can't see.)
d. a skeleton, still and alive.
(sleeping, with blood cells being produced
in the hollows of my curves.
the rattling of my bones cannot
MusingI'm too young to spend my life
running from the thunder,
staring at the kitchen walls wondering
how life would be different
if they weren't the same color.
Upon my breast
Finding sensitivity with urgency
Hands press into my hips
Passion flowing from eager fingertips
Pressing strong into my willing flesh
He whispers hotly into flushed skin
Words falling like a kiss upon my ear
I want you
I need you.
how to pay the plumberthe sun is born of ink that leaks from dog-eared galaxies
and the night is made of copper eyes that pipe the constellations
but we are too polite to stare.
any hand that may brush my back must bleed the alphabet
from wearied fingertips, and this is why:
happiness is ice and crinkled bones all wrapped up warm in the
childless rings of saturn
and your smiling face-of-a-cliff that scorches pretty spring skin dry.
we will never say we will never love so
i will die beside,
you die below.
it was all skinned knees
and stop signs between us.
we pushed too hard
or not hard enough.
the last star i wished upon
turned out to be a satellite,
and the last time i kissed you
really wasn't the last time.
the scent of romance- pine needles
and sawdust clung to my shoulders
where your fingers left goose flesh
when i least expected it.
i'd be tangled up in you and bed sheets
if i didn't know you better than that,
[sweetheart,] you're thunderstorms on
Saturday nights and "Why don't you stay
for awhile"'s and the infidelities
that line my cheeks.
a drug or choosingYour oily prints upon my eyes
Blessed art thou
You bleed through the cracks in my walls
Eyes, pores in every centimeter of wallpaper
Watching me sleep, watching my night-mare
The horse running from the fire-like river
Pouring down the mountain to the plains below
Engulfing my atmosphere in golden red smoke
I am not addicted
ariseToday the raindrops taste spicy
how I've missed them.
I've a bad case of wanderlust
And a silver sonnet skyfever,
and I want to be spinning like a planet in orbit.
The blue winterblush tiptoes onto my cheekbones
and I realize:
purgeheaving up a universe
is nothing on my stomach,
yet my scared molested heart
jumps out of the way.
the purge, a dark scent
weeping over the pointlessness
the ache and sorrow
the filling and emptying
of a creature so profoundly
ifif i could fall in love with you,
i'd yank the blue sky from its perch and wrap it around your
shoulders like grandma's woollen blanket;
i'd extract the spirit from
between your toes and douse your eyes in it, so maybe
then i'd understand what makes your thoughts
and i'd write the words of
a love-bitten victim on the insides of your wrists, just to
make sure i won't find scratches there in the
if i could fall in love with you,
i'd glue your sentences on the walls, and tell everyone
the paint was peeling anyway; and i like falling asleep
to the scent of your ink-spelt feelings;
and i'd give away the coffee that
keeps me upright every day, if only to rub the nightmares
from underneath your ragged fingernails;
and maybe i'd even
name a skin-deep butterfly after you because my superstitious nature
would still my fingers; and you'd have claim of my
if i could fall in love with you,
i would not speak your name anymore because it would taste
too sweet &
Flock Echo PassionThe gentle tone of your fingers
defly handling my thoughts.
You soften the regrets in my ribs
weaken the bones with love
pressed into my shoes.
You melt my marrow with murmurs
lazily spent in the mornings
rested on the sighs of your breath.
swallow my heartbeats
to keep them warm
and in tune with yours.
You unlock and rob my tongue of words
like a piano with too many keys
spilling its lullabies onto the floor
softly turning the locks of my mind
with the music in you
if I would only stop to listen.
Census of Ghostshe now resides in susurration:
shaken from our summer sheets,
flags drawn taut and shuddering,
and wispseeds rising into the light
with their dressing gowns unbuttoned,
planting onto my lips that name
i've tried to hang with himself;
on a late morning,
while folding your laundry,
i found him again and held his tongue
when he yearned to speak of love
that once transpired in his passion,
or maybe it was the infatuation
of surrealists: brown skin but touched
upon each other,
marking the insignificant with brands
of remembrance: like the crinkling of
tinfoil or the crisping of smokers' lungs
or the thought that cigarettes are only
romantic if you can witness their glow
or hear them faintly burning—
white ash rests on the dashboard
and his fingers are caked with rust
in my flashbulb drug collections:
the color of blood that's been drying
in my mouth while i try to recall how it felt
to hold someone who might have come
and remained forever breathing
if that letter had never reached my
Shatterglass MemoriesWe hold in our hands
Memories in shattered glass baubles
that we have pieced together
fragment by fragment.
The shards are sharp and jagged
and cut our hands
as we build memories
of happy days.
The lifeblood of our bodies
spiderweb through the cracks
in those fragile figurines
because the glue of our hope
has been forever stained by it.
Place it in a cherished spot
on a shelf in your mind
to gather dust until a dark time
that comes so often
in our bleak and dreary lives.
Millions of fragments
are yet to be discovered
and made into memories
of a happy life.
Hand in hand
we walk barefoot down a path
littered with shards
and I think I have found
the meaning of the word love
in your eyes.
Our heartbeats entwined
to pound out a trail
for our hope to follow
and I will only be happy
if I can walk it with you.