Morning TeaShe told him once; the evening sky left her in euphoria. The following morning, he wore all black and put stardust in her tea.
Deaf MuseI spill my soul, disguisedas words, into your palms, whichI suppose I mistook for open.Only you throwthem away. I reel,when you say;“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
ReincarnateI imagine that I’ll come backas a librarian, a man and somewherein Borneo or Edinburgh,trying to make senseof the things I left behind,and maybewe’ll find each other, again -they say souls travelin the same circles, and we’ll rememberover words, poetryand the music you made;the keys to Freon playing behind us.I suppose,it may be a poignant reunionof once weary souls,filtering through the universetime and time again.I’ll tell you we were lovers in a past lifeand you’ll roll your eyesas you did once before –a firm scientist and open cynic.I’ll shrug, as always,and show you how we unravelled ourselvesonce before.
todaytime takes away all the pleasuresof the day; the drumof falling rain waningto a muted beat, and we watchas the world glows,from the jaded sun. todaythe universe is ours stars an exhibition as wesoar, me and you; birdswithout wings.
Oaki knew a girl once,with an oak heart and guarded hands(gloved from touch)but sheuncrossed her ankles,let naked fingertipstouch well-read lips, andher heart kind of turnedinto ash.i miss that girl,with the oak heart -she was tougher.
SandcastlesOn the beach alone,brown-eyed, petite, kneeling in the sandshe spent an hour of her lifebuilding somethingthat'd be washed away by sea.
space junkone moment I was talkingto the man on the moon, andthen I was fallingthrough stars;downdowndown.i was surrounded byclouds, a wispy layer asmy body started to burn up from breakingthe atmosphere.and then, cool solaceas the ocean devoured me,and Isanksanksankblowing silvery bubblesas I floated likerogue space debris -nomadic to time and space.
the silent bardthe ground shiftedbeneath the weight of their heartsand he said;nothing.nothing.nothing.the temperature dropped, thattime of year, warm daysand cold nights the wind whisperedlullaby'sto her.him.primitive poetry.they slippedaway to simple wordsandliterary release.
Bipolari am done with patienceand its deadening face.i want what spillsout of her eyes when the waves crashagainst the shore;and the shriekingi want that too,banging against my spine.and maybe i'll ripen and burstfalling from the treeready to ride on the back of windy daysaudacious and free.
what I forgot to sayto the girl who lives like a hurricane:don’t expect to tell me aboutyour addiction to self-harm andNyquil and have me smile;although, as I shiver from lakewaterand things less tangible, I seem toacquire a talent for glossing over the listof things I need to tell you--your boyfriendis an asshole. California does notbegin and end in a tiny town wherepeople operate like clockwork aroundthe same happy working song. I am nota fountain of wisdom, and, to be honest,I can barely understand you over thethunderstorms in my own brain.you are beautiful and you arewrong..to the girl I left back in time:purpose is not a given. I amthe same teenage angst who usedto wear too much eyeliner andcomplain about my futureas I’d foretold it-- loveless and whiny,like me. I am her plus a few moreself destructions and minusa lot more days to continue strivingalongside you for simple goals andsimple friends and simple memoriesI won’t remember..to the girl who see
.you are dead and buriedsix feet under yourself,still feeling the way you didwhen you were seventeenand when you bathe, you stillkeep your head under thewater, wrists upturned, redeyes open, trying to drown yourselfout
slippers your ghost eats peanut butter out of the jar. an atomic grease fire tongues our oven like an aneurysm. if only we walked on clouds if only we lived in the belly of the ocean
Pyres aren't just for the dead.I am a fire-starter;all dragon's breath,birthed by flame.When you finally saidyou needed me, I wasalready reborn. Ash smearedalong my face,fire drizzling my body.New.I'm not the girl you werehoping for, darling.Too wild for your clammyhands to grip and sculpt,I am blazing, igniting.My hands house infernos, myheart is now a hearth.I do not needyou to keep me warm.
.i need to turn up the music to drown out thesound of my own voice breaking;my lungs are collapsing - i can't breathe:i am choking on all of the things i've hidden.the mirror betrays me to my hands:i want to ruin my skin, leave itbruised and pocked and scarred untilthe flesh reflects the madness within.
broken hearti.my heart is just paper for muscle and ink for blood, but i like to think that if i tore out a few pages and bound them in leather, it might just mean something.ii. and i tell you, i want to tell you, no, i am not more than that. i am not human, made up of muscle and bones that break, but words. i am books and flowers and the coffee i had this morning because, no --i cannot be me. i cannot be this.iii.i don't want to be here, scared these little sinews are snapping like dental floss between my hungry teeth.i've smeared my make up over your neck and collarbones, wrinkled your shirt with my paint-chipped nails, and somewhere between the first pain and hiccup of a sob, i've forgotten how to speak. you hold me tighter each time it steals my breath and listen to make sure i remember how to after it passes, say my name softly to remind me to stay with you. and you've pressed your hand over my chest, as if keeping it there will hold the weathered organ together.
when i dance, it isthe only timethat all parts of meare no longer lyingaround in placesthat i long agoleft behindand the piecescome back intoan order that althoughcracked and gluedare usefulenough to use again
.all we are is cheapmetaphorsgoldfish drowning inthe ocean, birds that forget how toflap their wings, mid-flight
.i have learnt enough about gravityto know that he can do what i can't, myselfsnap my bones like twigsunderfoot, andhe says that beautiful things arethe easiest to break
on forgetting how to live in peaceful timesand i tried for a very long time to make music but i couldn't. i wasn't built for it. neither were you. we walk the sidelines and haunt the sidestreets and hum the smallsongs. we are vicious lovers. this is why we did not last. because we know about loneliness and we got over trying to drown ourselves in crowds too quickly. because we suffocated instead. because we said fuck this, and wanted. because we drank whisky straight and coughed the burn down our throats until it hit our chests and stuck and stayed there until it grew into a fire and we vomited flames. because we talked too much and did not know about volume or damage control.or maybe that was just me.and i tried for a very long time to learn how to leave people but i couldn't. i tried to learn distrust but i couldn't. i tried to learn oblivion and all i have to show for it is memories of hospitals and hand sanitiser. you were even more prone to self-destruction than me. at least on the outside. oh look it's back to you
pedicellariaeI am not astreet urchinI am a seaurchinspikes and venom andbristlingwith mysterybut everyone seemsto call meby the wrong name
BlindlyBlindly People see what they are told.
only you can prevent forest firesi wake on the edge of morningbreathing staccatounder frost-covered pines:my fingertips are bitten, butmy lips are unkissed;i bend to the earthand inhale.i lie on the devil's backbonein the scarred ridges of hisfire-scorched spine -the elements are unkindto my limbsand my heart:i caught pneumonia and lovein the same breath.
6/10i wake up torain- and for just a moment, i hold my breath. my lungsache. i want themto, and so i don'texhale. i justlisten, and it feelsgood. when i do letgo, i'm lightheaded andthe rain is coming downharder. i think i should move toSeattle.
shooting starThe space betweeneach star is a tragedywaiting to happen --and you fallfrom the skyall too easily.
CandaceI have named the lumpin my throat Candace;and she is what her name means-penitent and contrite,remorseful for every word that slipspast her because they all havecome out misshapen and wrong.
Don't Think.it's meant to be listened to:http://sta.sh/022gwea0ee6ohttps://soundcloud.com/gravitycorner/dont-thinkI remember in Psych 101,when the professor proposed a gamecalled Don’t Think.He said, “For the next minute,don’t think about red elephants.”So the trick was to think about anything elsebut the red elephant.That was the longest minute of my life.I thought surely I will dieunder the weight of this--No don’t think about it!The sweat dripped down my templesand my lips got dryand I couldn’t stopblinking or thinkingabout purple giraffesand orange hippos and polka dotostriches and redredbut then the minute was up and I let out a sighand I could feel my arteries dilateand I could feel my cells breathing again andI could see the red elephantand he could see me.That elephant in my mind’s roomwas easy to accommodate after all theother animals had leftwhen it was just me and him.I forgot wha
on loving lengthwisei.in my near-nineteen years of life i have never wanted something, someone so much.[no, i swear, not even death itself]ii.waking up without you hurts.even though you don't have one, i slept with my webcam on last night so maybe you could catch a glimpse of me sleeping.you say i shiver in dreamland, and i tell you that's because i hardly dream --there is nothing in my mind then but grey matter and cold air, because even with the heat blasting at seventy and four fleece blankets, i have trouble making my own warmth.you told me that even so, i was smiling. and i said that though i don't remember, the only explanation would be that i was dreaming of you --before you were mine, you were my only dreams worth remembering. now, you're the only ones i ever have.iii.going out in winter seems colder than ever without you here.it makes me think of years ago, when i found that without flesh, it is impossible to insulate bones. you would sit next to me every morning on the bus, and f
InfiniteIt was denial,like lovers in a motel roomsearching for something beautiful.She had tattooed the universeon her back - pretended she was infinite,but in fact was trappedunder the weight of the world.