a great divide

birds made of wire gawk their slow turning heads,
fix their hallow eyes downward, hover over your deathbed.
while you close your eyes and wait for night to pass,
i fetal on the floor of this house of glass.
know, i see the fields outside this square trap.
i know i can pick one of the blooming flowers if i bridge this gap.
but i can't escape the need to hold your hand as you sleep,
can't let go of the hope of promises you vowed to keep.
but the gaping birds don't squawk lies,
and i know that if i stay here by your bedside,
this house will shatter, my heart will splinter
and we will eventually die.

..

the moment that broke me was when you tangled your fingers between mine and said nothing. the silence spoke everything louder than you ever could have and crossed every single line i had drawn and shattered all the pitifully-built walls i had made for myself. this is wretched-- my skin coming off, my face rotting away, my words losing any support they once had. it is exactly what i hate and, therefore, i hate holding hands.

i want you to know that i didn't mean to dangle my feet.

my name? it doesn't matter.

i had a dream about you last night, and it felt
so real that when I awoke, I felt content
at last.
but, alas, i remembered it was only make believe.
i could have wept a waterfall that drowned
every city below me.

the wind set in
and made everything colder.
froze your heart, made my eyes lower.
took every shred of my torn up letter
and put the pieces back together, solely so you could
read it one more time.
instead, you burned my note and the wind carried its ashes
all the way to the sea.

dirty reflections.

you FOOL!
look, all along you were pointing the finger:
'it's them. it's them that need to stop wearing bows in their hair and reading pop-up picture books!'
you stuck your nose up when you saw them playing in sandboxes,
but you were the one drowning in tiny particles.

everything you thought was so silly
smacked you in the face with a cold hand.
the mirror on your wall is clouded and ugly,
and points right back at you.
nose down, chin up.
act like a grown up.

wailing.

sometimes it's not better to be alone.


i can feel it, feel it feel it.
feel, feel you.
i can feel, too.

could it be that men with guns and blue hoods
aren't really men at all?


where have all their mothers gone?
they never grew up.
no one ever noticed them rolling in mud pits.

mais, bien sur.

Bedroom door.

It's vacant.
Your heart, this house--
you couldn't make it.
I can feel you breathing:
on my shoulder.
You're suffocating.
With stifled breaths
you can't help but close your eyes
as you undress,
stripping away each sin,
each memory, each place,
but never letting me in.
It's cold on this floor,
even more icy is your
bedroom door.
It's vacant--
your heart, this room.
You couldn't take it.

King Cobra.

i waste away. i waste and waste and waste.
i jumped the gun, i forgot for one second that night always follows the sun,
and i can never ever run fast enough.
i'm laying on the bitter pavement, trying to hide
the splattered scene my messy heart made beneath in its attempt
to thump hard enough that you could finally hear every thought that's been slithering down around each of my ribs, squeezing tighter, tighter, suffocating me.
tonight my lungs got so close to collapsing. i couldn't speak,
i couldn't say any of the words i wanted to.
the snakes had roped my mouth shut.
if you could see my insides warping together, you would understand
why it all came out the way it did,
why my bursted heart painted the ground magnificently red.
this is not how it's supposed to be. i know it.

I have not found one.

Look at all these men,
staring into each other's blank hands.
They've come and gone,
they've all passed on;
all these empty men with their lineless hands.

And still, i have not found one
that is willing to stay and absorb the warmth of the sun.
The water shines too brightly in their eyes,
reflecting everything the sea once and still dares to epitomize,
frightening everyone in its glare with its sun-streamed, seaweed hair.

Look at all these men.
These dried-up men, look at them.
They walk in a straight line, dead-eyed, jigsaw-faced.
Every deserving memory, erased.
I stand still. I weep for them.

you dumbstruck baby, now you know.

All my nightmares escaped my head bar the door, please don't let them in you were never supposed to leave now my head's splitting at the seams

in a dark little room
across the nation
you found myself racing
forgetting the strange and the hard

When you sink.

I don't know who you are.
You never paint the pictures with the ocean-storm in the middle
and the flowers on the side anymore.
I miss those flowers.
Where'd that sailboat go that once held its own against the mighty wind?
It sank. You sank
with it.


I have finally realized my words do not flow,
my screaming attempts are not heard,
my delight is not met.

And in truth,
it makes me sad.


I can only weep.
I can only weep when you sink.

such a feeling of free. let's F L Y!

your cold feet.

my icy shower this morning did nothing to wake me up.
i still am blind to the fact that this may be the right thing,
that today is happening.
you shook your head yes, but kept your eyes shut and your doors, too.
you mirage of a man;
i-- a dumb-struck, lovefool.
if you keep your bridge drawn forever,
your tears will flood this moat and there will be nothing more i can do for you.
straighten up-- and brace yourself, charles.
i've always been here to warm your cold feet, trumping your new out of place shoes;
but the fact is there is no easy way to say that
--i love you.

the wild things.

slinky don't slip away from me keep me blinking as fast as a bumblebee in the forests filled with leprechaun fairies. you're the only guide i have. it's you that i follow dodging these hollow trees trying hard to swallow iris petals and willow leaves. they say it will help me sleep. you said you believed in unicorns but when one stepped out of the dark forlorn you said it had to be born of a real life animal and broke off its horn leaving me to mourn and weep over the loss of a soul. my soul embodied in this beautiful dying beast. but slinky how could you not see this silly wild thing you sneer at is everything i've ever wanted to be?

making magma pie.

three angels dressed in black floated to the casket
with white, glowing robes hanging from their shoulders.
no one spoke, and no one spoke of the deceased.
but this was not heaven, it couldn't be;
it was a cruel joke played on us all by reality.
faulty, your hand. it quivers as you try to take a stand.
but what? what is this that is falling down?
your head dropped towards the floor and so came tumbling your shiny crown.
icicles are overcrowding this room and scooting underneath your sheets,
filling your deceivingly nice looking bed with doom(and doubt).
i doubt that this would kill you even if it all went under the bridge.
i couldn't tell you which way i came from,
nor the path less traveled. i couldn't tell you right from left,
nor scriptures or life-changing passages.
my throat is raw and it spreads to my lips.
eyes cry lava streams so that everybody runs away from me.
because when i cry, it burns you.
well, it burns me, too.

april 15th does not have to be your downfall.

i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i am not tired.
i could listen forever.
JUMP!
swim to shore from that sinking ship.
faith is something that just hits you, don't let it miss you.
enough treading, paddle until your lungs give out.

Mt. St. Hellens killed President Truman.

what you doing?
don't trip ;
that acid won't make you glad
any more than anything else could.
it smells clean in my room, or maybe just compared to
your long-haired sheets and smell of doubt.
i haven't seen the clouds in so many days.
i must come out!
look at all these pictures,
i wrote you so many letters.
why haven't you written back?
take that back.
retract your hand and take a few steps back.
this room is filled with ten thousand people
and your words float above their heads,
like an eagle passing by that lost all its feathers,
like a mother whose child was taken by the sky,
like the last leaf of summer,
trickling down,
d o w n
o
w
n
.
look at me, i'm still crazy.

le depart.

i've lost you.
and i don't know if you're hiding in castles or caves,
or watching shooting stars from mountain tops,
whether your hands are soothing fields of wheat
or keep busy covering your mouth,
stopping the vernacular from spilling out.
it is either this lake or that ocean
that is holding you hostage,
and i wish with all of my soul that I could somehow
find a way to build you a sailboat.
you will float on.
you will float ahead.
when you finally reach where you want to be,
send me smoke signals so that I know you are finally free.

it's the old brand new.

come on,

think about it.

this could have been the life you always dreamed of,
with cobalt pitchers filled with ice cold lemonade
and the heart of the world displayed on your living room wall!
this could have been it.
but something stopped you, something.
i find myself eight heartbreaks later,
back at the beginning.
only the righteous float above so quickly.
it is this cyclic love that is making me sick at sea.
no patches to cover it up this time,
i realize what is right from wrong,
but i fear i will drown again, and all over,
for i am just not that strong.

the run-around.

such dreary days do not count as a way
to pass these dragging days of a time to wait.
waiting in vain and waiting for a brand new kind of pain
seems strange when we talk about it being a sort of happiness.
maybe it's more contentedness,
maybe it's your floozy mistress that is making you the least bit prepared.
off with your head! and i will bite my tongue.
this charade has gone on for too long because
we all thought you would have learned by now.
such a beautiful counterfeit seems such a despicable waste.
give it time and give it space,
but there is no time, you see!
wake up from your dreaming!
time doesn't exist, for there was no beginning
and there is no end.
we are all waiting for something that never comes
and sticking our noses up at the things that did.
if we're all waiting forever, the middle seems insignificant
and this rainy day is no different than tomorrow's.

maybe this isn't mendable.

god.

i can't look away fast enough.
i'm now ready to pack
-my entire life- up.
it should only take a few boxes,
and possibly, a bag,
seeing as i've lost much of what i used to have,

but am i the one really missing out??


maybe i am finally seeing the light,
finally seeing that all along the
wrong was right.
what a mind-blowing, yet calm realization;
what a tedious test of my-
p a t i e n c e.

but we all know a hunchback is no dancing queen.


what if i leave here tomorrow
and arrive
at the place where i'm hoping to come alive
and they all point and laugh,
as naturally as the winter comes
and the world slaps me in the face
for ever expecting to

find freedom!

ready.

even carrie didn't marry until her mid-forties.
what does that mean for the rest of us???

fake letters put together.

breathe.

breathe.

tell me, why do i have such bad dreams?

you're the one that is leaving.

escaping, more like: drowning.

it is painful to see

all these horrible things even when i am asleep!

i couldn't stop shivering.

all the failed attempts had finally caught up with me.

breathe.

breathe.

rid your thoughts of swimming in the tempestuous sea.

if you never come up for air,

you'll lose all the things you've ever found

and you will surely drown.

three more saturdays.

but really, let's talk seriously:
i see everything that falls around me,
and i realize the truth quite easily.
you are not for me.
this shamble of a story should have,
in different ways than one,
exploded in the beginning.
so, how come you've waited until now to light the flame?
now the smoke entices you,
but not because you like it. because you don't know what else to do.
it's not my fish fetish, it's your's.
it's my crazy mind that is either making me dumbly blind
or see things for the very first time.
i'm not sure which is worse.

6th time this week: signs of plummeting.

it's simply my time to go.
i cannot sit here, encumbered with your giddy laughter
and your childish breath of enticing shams.
these are my shaking hands.
this time, our time, is not worth waiting for.

really, it's just an old scary story.

if you can interpret the sayings
of a crazy lady, through the smoke
and stuttered misgivings, she would say this:

mermen don't exist,
and if you stay in caves for too long,
you'll never beam like the sun.

sciatic nerves.

i could have sworn it was winter again
when i saw that evergreen covered in snow.
it was not a dream,
i was awake and breathing,
i know what i saw on that evergreen.
afterwards, i rushed away to pull the covers over my head
and hope the sun would be standing next to me when i
opened my eyes for the very first time.

your hips are uneven
causing your feet to be out of line.
so does that mean i've finally stepped outside the box?
come back,
i fear that we've all let you jump.

mas.

la da da DA da bala da.
run for three hours EVERY SINGLE MORNING
and then come talk to me.
don't lay in my morning bed.
IT WAS ONLY A DREAM! IT WAS ONLY A DREAM!
it was so much more than a dream.
it was so much more.
it was so much.
it was so.
it was. it was.
deliver me good opera music. educate me in it. enhance my brain. cleanse clense.
and i do not like rotating sushi, nor do i think i ever will. crying in the bathroom with the flower painted step-up stool is enough.


i feel like up-chucking.
head butting.
no mas fuck buddies.
crow plucking.
don't ever follow the scent of a beast.

8 days.

what I think is you're
SCREAMING at the top of your lungs
and walking like a monster
just so you can be alone.





R.I.P.

i couldn't begin to compose.

you sat in the chair
i sat on the floor to wash your feet.
the blood streamed from my hands
like rubies falling on the concrete.
the ships took down their sails,
the white fell like you from grace.
people gathered under a same tent
because they didn't know what to do but congregate.

soak wash rinse scrub rinse
repeat
repeat
repeat.

i told them to bury him with his rachet,
only the finest things,
and not to touch his tousled hair because
all good things are wild and free.
but, i was stopped by a meek little voice
coming from the smallest of persons in the crowd
that told me 'i'm sorry,
but sweet mr. thomas is already in the ground.'
'but, but..
i didn't even get to say goodbye!
how could you? TELL ME
where do i find his graveside?'

soak wash rinse scrub rinse
repeat
repeat
repeat.

oh, what a horrible mound of dirt
to hover over both of our heads
like a life size storm cloud
that rains hot tears of red.
i dig and dig and dig
until the truth i finally see
that there is nothing,
nothing but an empty abyss where you should be.

soak wash rinse scrub rinse
repeat
repeat
repeat.

whats the sense in washing when, in the end, there are fishnet shoes on your feet!

real life vs. what should've been.

stick flowers in your mouth!
do anything to keep from saying what you did.
you fool, you goon,
you gave up entirely too soon.
or maybe this space ship never took off.
what if this is all in my head?
what if i wake up tomorrow and don't remember a thing?
with octopus hair
and zombie eyes
and it's not even 2009?
i cannot pass this road once again.
i shall turn away and say
'i have seen where this leads,
and i would finally like to have a day that exceeds
the low expectations i keep,
and see what's ahead for me.'
excuse my selfishness,
but karen wouldn't be pleased if i kept up this way.

best unsaid.

i wanted you to see

how many flowers i planted for you, all the lillies!

in my garden that i breathed for you --

gently.

you can stop holding your breath now.

you can stop holding onto your breath--

and every thread of violet that is clinging to your heaving chest.

the rain!

the rain that streamed down the side of the

fish bowl,

mirrored the way i felt today

and caused me to rub my itching eyes,

leaving not humanly windows, but gaping black holes.

would you discount me

as one of the sorcerers that bewitched your mortal soul?

you beast.

i had nothing to do with your silencing.

you had every moment at the foot of your doorstep

but you watched the rain-fall instead.

the heat in this car--

the fire in your closed lips--

it's stife-l-ing.

but you breathe so cooly.

icicles shoot out of your mouth like lightning from zeus' house,

and what is there to do but weep?

for you? for me?

oh, how sad that people yield at the sight of you.

you mongrel.

you beast.

???

dear all, 

watch me do summersaults! 

watch the wrinkling man cry,

watch palm sized babies die.

eat leaves and eat berries.

eat your words like they are magic fairies.

stand in the rain,

sit on the tracks of a train.

follow, don't think.

SPEAK!

birds don't break their wings for nothing

flightless is simply settling.

f-ing weird.

untitled.

i had something really good to say,
but the storm rolled in and the wind blew it away.
i sat here yesterday
and the day before that, and the day before that...
i can hear the thumping pulse of your heart
leaping out, ready for its life to start,
ready to be on its own and apart
of something better than the life of a bricklayer.
but if you saw the way the sun danced to please
and heard the sweet sounds composed by the trees,
you, too, would weep at their melodies
and stay inside, because they bend over backwards for her.
i know that if i might have had glowing eyes
that were bluer and bigger than the Alaskan sky,
this wouldn't be a lie!
and you wouldn't have to grin like a howling mule.
don'tletthemonstersgetyouwhenyou'redown.

cement handprint.

oh, who knows what that crazy girl is doing
plucking out each eye, lash by lash.
'she's crazy, you know!
nose always in a book,
her only company is the cello,
and i swear, her eyes are indigo!'
who's ever seen indigo eyes??
maMA, what if the kids at school don't like me?

cinderella dressed in yella
went upstairs to kiss her fella
oh, but he was no where to be found.
he had wrapped himself in a blanket and absorbed into the corner wall,
growing so very small,
in hopes she might forget him.
but poor cinderella could only sing her days away
of the man she wanted to save,
and never forgot him at all.

nightmares.

i dreamt of you last night.
you wore a beautiful white dress, that hugged your hips and hung at your knees, and the beautiful lace design that laid upon your chest, crawled up your neck and illuminated your beautiful narrow shoulders. and as you grabbed my hand so tightly and smiled as if to convey it was so good to see me!, i noticed your glowing blue eyes. they took my breath away. your eyes glittered as if composed of tiny blue diamonds and the sun that washed softly over your head and shoulders caught each one, making your shimmering eyes pop out of your head. your red hair was pinned back by gardenias, and we talked and i couldn't believe how many times you squeezed my hand and how irrevocably glad it made me. the sun lit up the room because there was no roof above our heads. you walked away and i tried to take a picture of a rainbow, but every time i missed and could not capture the beautiful scene of the purple flowers that sprouted from the green grass to lay against the blue sky with the rainbow spread above. even still, the day smiled at your beauty. the flowers would have wilted and the rainbow would have bent had you graced your presence past them. the sky held no candle to your eyes, and when i awoke, i was weeping.

stand still, march.

did you see the look on their faces?
it was something of complete dumbfoundedness.
and they all looked the same!

i swear, you'll be okay.
what a waste of seventy thousand flashes and a new toothbrush.

i find myself weeping over sandcastles.

i have spent many nights awake
analyzing each pigment of my skin.
scrutinizing the curves, and shapes, and circles it forms.
i guzzle chloroform.
and bathe myself in coconut oils.
but none of this will diminish my wrists.
yes, my wrists that are too big around,
that i wish were much more petite and fragile
and less pronounced.
and the skin on them to be smooth as the summer breeze,
but in my head at midnight i can realize what's been right in front of me this entire time.
i could never go to africa!
i don't know if the clouds there would billow as foreboding as the ones above your small 2-bedroom house on leopards street.
i can never help you pack up your things.
this is not a part of yourself you want to share with me.
i can never trust you completely.
i can never tell you everything i will never be.
darling, this is scaring me.
something frightening is happening to me.
chug your can, drown your sorrows.
i'll sew my lips and pray it will be better tomorrow.

oh, leonardo!

if it were up to me,
i would obliterate the sea
and every single wave that torments your soul,
dragging you through the undertow
until you think you are free.
No, this is not freedom.
Dance, leonardo. Dance like you are meant for.
Dance until your fingers bleed.
Dance freely, individually.
Dance with me.
THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME, BUT NEITHER IS THE SEA.
you belong in the color blue,
with your hair blowing in the wind,
let it envelop you.
only the good shade of blue,
like that of the sky,
of babies eyes,
nothing to do with the waves of the sea.
it is your love, and in it you can be free.

there is no battle, i'm not in the middle of anything.

I cannot stay in this room with you for the next thirty three hours
just so you'll have enough comfort to sleep easy.
You're a big boy, time to turn off the night light,
let go of my hand, LET GO OF MY HAND.
let go of my hand. let go of my hand.
you childish boy,
can't you see that it's time for you to leave?
I'm trying to be easy, i'm trying to start you on training wheels,
but sometimes you have to jump in the water
with no warning of how it feels.

'clean up this mess. fold this shirt!'
don't hang your head. don't close your eyes.
just come lay beside me. stay for me.
what a waste of an evening.
what a waste of seventy thousand thoughts,
and of four new wrinkles.
they could have been from smiling instead.

hey, look up boy.
the lamppost came on outside your window.
JUMP , LEONARDO, JUMP.
feel. breathe in. breathe out. embrace the summer sun.

an honor commending your efforts in the war.

this is not who i want to be.
i wish i was much stronger,
self dependent, independent from all things, including myself.
i wish i was much more diligent.
more understated.
more deliberately vague.
how do i not fit here?
why can i not be small enough to be the missing piece,
the one that completes the puzzle and
cracks the code?
why can i not be your skeleton key?

your blacker than black hair distracts brown eyes
from seeing what thoughts are truly thought underneath.
and your shifting eyes keep from lingering for too long
over anyone
or anything
escaping probing fingers, digging to find what's beneath.
WHAT IS YOUR HAPPINESS?
you like to run,
you like the sun,
you surround yourself with fun.
but i take things slow,
and i like the snow,
and i have less fun than i let show.
not really. this could all change if only
things would
f
a
l
l
into place.
come on, spaceman.
i'm keeping you too down to earth.
i understand now why you need a change of pace.
but you can't fly to space
just because you like the suits they wear
or because she's down here
and you'd be up there.
just because you're five thousand feet closer
doesn't mean the stars will aline.
everything looks perfect from far away so you may find
that the star you've chased after for so long
explodes in front of your eyes and everything you've ever hoped for dies.

grown men don't climb trees.

charles, if you don't love me, let me go.
set me free onto another sinking boat,
pray that i will find the shore,leave no note.
scuddle into the sunset
and forget all your regrets.
you're breaking every promise's heart you've ever met.
or write it in big red letters in the sky
that you no longer want to try
and hopefully i will see through the water in my eyes
the truth: are you sailing away to build power lines?
or mud pits or water slides?
will i be stuck here forever treading this inescapable tide?
charles, your name sounds like such a man's,
which is why i cannot figure out why your heart doesn't match your strong hands.

I can never be the person you were on October 3, 2003

i am going to drive myself crazy with how often i look at you.
i know.
no, i don't have high cheek bones
or a slouchy hunter greent jacket
that buttons in the front with a grey patterned shirt to wear underneath.
nor can i lay on a couch comfortably, at ease.
i cannot run as fast as you.
i cannot laugh like you do.
i do not know how to carry myself anymore because
i analyze every move i make according to you.
i often feel like throwing up,
because it makes me sick to know it will never be.
i will never have a brother,
i will never have a number of troubles,
i will never switch rooms,
nor have a mirror for a wall to do make up in front of.
i will only ever have the thoughts inside my head
that spin out of control but never to anyone else
other than the three me's inside.
i will never go to hawaii and not tend to my phone.
it's just not me.
and i'm going to drive myself crazy
until i have become what i want to be.
it's sickening.
don't take this or anything too seriously.

nini legs in the air.

you're a horrible man, macbeth.
and lady, you made him do terrible things.
you are no angel,
you no longer radiate the sun.
it is with disdain that we pass,
you wreaking the colors of a garbage can,
on different paths seperated from one.


and i know you're going to hate me for this.
but it's nauseating to look at, or even breathe in.
so try to understand that i am choking,
on spit, on blood, on tears. still,
i know you're going to hate me for this.

if you cannot walk twelve miles in the rain
to hold my hand from trembling,
you are not who i thought you were.
do not drag me.
do not tease me.
do not deceive me.
do not leave me.




and i want to die because of it, too.

#81

get it out of me, get it all out.
press my soul against the washing board and
pray that i'll be renewed;
something worth saving,
tucked neatly, or carelessly, in a drawer in the very least.
wring my skin
so to rid it from its stains of sin
and drain my tears to be lost forevermore.

but if you can't risk wasting the soap,
don't bother trying to salvage what's left of me.
think no more of me blowing in the wind happily.
you can find new things, save the old ones only for the memories,
and you might remember a day that i made you feel.
i feel all the time when you're swinging beside me.
but Karen always said you either live in love or in fear,
and i suppose the latter got the best of me.
i know this must be really hard for you.
it's okay, i knew all along it was too good to be true.


i know, I KNOW. i got my hopes up too soon,
held you too high up on that pedestool.
but i was surprised to see how easily you jumped.
i guess it's that i'm asking for too much.
is it? too much time wasted, waiting for me to catch up?
by all means, sir,
don't risk the soap if you don't see fit,
if these stains are too deep now to make it worth it.

don't ever assume you know everything.

'I didn't know you had it in you;interesting.'
But I know something you don't know;
I know more about the night.
Yes, I know how cold it gets when
children are tucked safely in bed,
how long the alley goes outside my window
and just how much the moon hates the earth.
It seems as though it's a leo,
stealing the spotlight away from us all,
making us all feel so intolerably small,
only sharing its light to point out our blemishes;
such a vein fettish it has.



No, I don't only speak of rainbows.
I do not think the world is a pretty place
and my mind does not run slow.
It races, lapping Seahorse atleast three times
before I've realized I'm racing.
I do not burn bridges; instead,
I let them melt away, like the snow on a january day,
and watch them fall to pieces and drip
through my hands and finger creases.
I walked through the dark with no hand to hold but my own,
Don't tell me I don't know these morose things I've known.

the hunt.

'don't put all your eggs into one basket.'
is what my mother always said.
she warned the unwise to keep their prizes
safely tucked into different nooks,
fill their libraries with different books,
with so many subjects and pictures that you could never
read them all.
but you would have them,
if only to have them,
if it meant a thing at all.

'loveless bedrooms filled with doom bring
silent heartache july to june.'


he stole her balloon, accidentally, of course.
but made her cry, nonetheless.
i told you to gather your gold
and wrap it in love
and give it to her to make her love you again.
lay, don't be crazy.
no one likes a dumb baby.

pulse.

but what if i took you away
from searching through the lincoln exhibit,
trying to find what you're looking for and told you,
LOOK AT ME.
i think you might still be upset that i stole you away
from admiring your tall brother,
your funny feet, your grand adventure.
and you wouldn't see me, standing in front of you.

'it's a only a lamppost!'
no, no can't you see?
that is so much more than just a light in the middle of the city.
how could you think it made things safer?

'It's Snowing In April!'
WHAT?
what are you fighting about?
you have nothing to fight about.
you have nothing to fight for.

alarm clocks mean everything to me.

I can't speak french.
and i'm writing, I'M WRITING BY GOLLY!!
I'm writing again and my fingers are bleeding,
but in a good way. in a happy, exciting way.
Dance, I AM DANCING! to ganesha music,
in which i belong.
in which, i live and smile and look up.
and keep my eyes open, just a little bit, at all times.

you were so silly, not so long ago.
look how foolish you were
back when you didn't have me
and saw things so narrow mindedly.

The clouds have parted,
but are still here, fluffy and grand, so to keep me occupied
during the day, trying to help me focus on something. ANYTHING.
but I can't focus
and I CAN'T SPEAK FRENCH.
so speak to me
in words i know
in gestures of happiness
in the language of free.

fruhling.

you swayed so gracefully in the paths of the sun,
moving angelically in and out of light,
flightlessly dancing over all of our faces and souls,
creating silhouettes and shadows,
and you gather.
you gather the roses that,
in your heart,
bloom in the spring time.
and since it is spring, it's time!
your heart is blooming,
so gather, gather
your roses and the sun.


listen to her whisper.
this is
the wind.
this is
your chilling spine.
this is the
way we say goodbye.

this is not
normal.

lost at sea.

if you put bricks on the sides of your eyes,
it's much harder to see things clearly.
you met me under a plain-covered umbrella
and i watched the rain slide down your shoulder.

'it's amazing to me,
how bipolar the clouds can be,
one second hate the city
and the next shine on it merrily.'

and the smile that came across your face
was that of the stars,
shooting past, by chance happily seen.

'i thought i knew where this road would lead,
but Rain at the hands of merciless Clouds
has made me rethink things.
signs form ambiguous shapes, water is raising like waves,
bleeding the colors of my map into each another,
crossing paths, leading me astray...'

the rain fell harder, and she looked at me.

'but then again,
aren't we all a little lost at sea?'

'play it loud, that's how i like it,' he spoke so eloquently.

If I could, I would with all my might
take away all the devilish pain
that's taken place tonight,
and any other night before,
that made you feel this alone
and took away your free spirited dance.

When all that you feel is pain,
I know it is easy to feel bitterly alone.
But think instead of the before,
not the after, and tonight
give into the good vibrations that make you want to dance
so that it possibly might

for some fleeting moments take away your pain.
Though you feel your heart colder than before,
like all the other parts of you have left your heart alone,
focus not on the hurt of tonight,
but on the hope tomorrow brings, that it might
bring forth a dance.

It takes two to dance,
but now I see on your face the pain
caused by the full moon hanging in the stars tonight
and by your partner leaving you stranded alone
on the dance floor. This one might
hurt a little worse than the one before.

If the rendez-vous conspires tonight,
the mangled, heart-stopping dance
driven by nights of constant pain,
it will end with each one still just as alone
and just as monster-like as the night before.
I don't doubt you'll combat with all your might

and give every ounce of your left over being to tonight,
to the chance of a better sleep than before.
Someday, someone will take away all your pain
so that you will not be afraid or feel alone,
and so that you might
in this blissful slumber, happily dance.
For it is in this dance that you no longer feel the pain
that you've felt in nights before. It is on your pillow tonight
that you might rest your head and be freed from being alone.

haunting scents.

she looked up at him
with a smile that said,
'you're so silly,
you're all mine.'
i had to look away and grab a hand
in order to stand, because i understood it this time.
each layer unveiled,
unraveling my unbeating heartstrings,
shining the light brighter in my direction.
but since we haven't spoken
in a very long time,
you switch spots so to not stand next to me.
does it bother you?
the smell of betrayal
following you around constantly?

maybe
one day you will see
things much more clearly.
and the love that so long ago overflowed from my heart
will keep you company until you find another me.

the love i wish you had for me

it's like a treasure
sought after and built up, like the birthday to come,
that is lost forever, or never was
meant to be found.
and you like to hold hands when i walk behind you
looking down at my feet trying hard
not to cry in front of(or behind)you.

sur, sous, dans, en face
nothing matters when it has nothing to do with you.

silly billy nilly
don't close your eyes when you're trying to walk in a straight line.
i told you to take it slow
to just let it be, and roll the window down so your hair can blow.
but you won't sit and smoke a clove
in double rings like he does.
twice a day
furthering your decay
like he does.
my rotting body lays on the sotting cold kitchen floor,
with the fruit that spilled
all over the sotting kitchen floor.
my mind is too old now, to keep up these foolish acts.
you can take my hand all you want
and i'll ask for it back.
don't put your foot down, and don't walk away.
hear me screaming out for him to save me some day.

i can ask you this because you don't know either. and i find it comforting.

some days
i would just like to talk to you.
all day long, that would be alright with me.
and if you sat down next to me,
or across, away,near,beside,
that would be alright.
when we talk about the end of the world,
you seem so at ease with it,
like it's just an idea, and not an event or any feeling
unlike the weight of my heart which burdens me
even more when i think about the end.
when it's all over, will i still have you?
and these eggs that we made, and the memory of your hair
blowing in the wind as we drove in a circle?
will the picture i drew of a whale
be lost and burned to ashes for no one else to tell?
for you to forget that i named him sparky
after your dog, that you predicted to weigh a ton and a half.
we never talked about men that are monsters.
nor the day i would die if you died first,
because i would. i could not live without my first.
so, when you need a day to sit,
send me a letter in the mail and i will coming running
to sit and question the world with your hand in mine, or for nothing at all.

a russian love letter.

when you keep the car running
and make me scream when my head has become to heavy to hold
i wonder what object you see when you look at me.
love has enabled me
and broken my wrist, undoubtedly my spirit, too,
stopped me from reverberating an unrequitted love for you.
l o v e i s a d o v e & y o u b r o k e i t s w i n g s .
you closed up my heart and turned a deaf ear to its song.
a long day is nothing compared to the seventeenth,
and you can't take it back.
tommy fell in love, and scathed into the sunset;
didn't turn to wave goodbye,
and forgot me the moment his hunger gave in
to a bowl of unsweetened cheerios.
and with his red headband,
he read my letter and let it fall to the ground.
it blew in the wind behind him and he spoke russian the rest of the way home.

cher.

cher, je t'aime. et je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas, et c'est bon. je ne pense pas que tu comprends. tu ne comprends rien. peut-etre un jour, mais je ne le crois pas. je souhaite. ohh lala, je souhaite avec tout de m'ame que tu comprendras un jour que je t'aime et que je t'avais donne la monde. si je peux. si je peux, je t'aimerai avec tout mon coeur et te dit que ta main va en forme avec ma main.

i could call you baby.

meet tommy.
he just popped in to say hello,
and wave goodbye
so to torment my soul.
but he always only has good intentions
with his curly mess of a hair:do/dont
i always liked it when he would tell me
the answers to guide my pencil point.
but this didn't have to be
and i understand it was my unravelling
but to assume that my teeth have been rotting this entire time
baby, is, on your part, extrapolating.
and not in a good way.

so, to try and make sense:
i love you,
with all my body, heart, soul, mind, breath, thought,
with all my being. in this world.
i run.
et je pense
je pense que je t'aimerai jusqu'a le monde mort.
but i don't want to seem crazy
shhh, shhh. crazy isn't allowed in front of tommy.
not when he's only passing by,
winking, then running into the sunset.
sleep well, tommy.














this is shittttttttttt.

my darling lullaby

'you're not the one who falls apart.'
yes, i am the brick wall
with the stone face
and probably the most pain of all
of the walls combined.

do you know that
this has broken me down, body and soul
did you know
i'm taking this quite hard

three-one-nine-four-double0-six
rest your head now,
lay down on my chest.
i will take care of you
and stand by your lonely side
hold your hands in the dark,
and sing you a lullaby.

hush now, my darling
it will all be okay
i'm with you now and forever
together we will float away
above the trees and mountains
gliding through the clouds of white
we may stop here now
and rest in the blueness of the sky
hmmmm, my darling
hush, my darling
i'm here next to you, forever and through the night
hmmmm, my darling
lay your head upon my breast, so to sleep well tonight
hmmmm, my darling
hush, my darling