broken bodyyou left me withnothing but specksof stardust.
Into the NightYou take burning starsout of the palm of my hand,and send them back home.
IcarusFledgling of thefour-winds; feather-lightagainst ajaundiced sky(dawn is quietwhen the noose istight).
may.i lost track of how many daysyou were wallowing around rock bottominsteadi just counted how many shots of espressoit took me putting in your cup each morningto make you human again.
NaPoWriMo: Day 3Today,I wanted to pluck my ribsfrom out my chest &hang them about my houselike wind chimes-dangled brutality;a taunt for hungry wolves.I didn’t grab for sharp objects,I just wrote about it.I never knewI wanted to be a writeruntil I lost something.I still don’t know what that is-(my mind, maybe.)But words,they fill gapsthat had no storiesto keep themfrom hollowing outin the first place.
by association.don't shoot the messengershe told herselfbut her aim was unsteadyand the wind blew her off targetthey were all rotten anyway.
she had a habit of making stars cryprobably could've settled forless than mine, but there'sa tongue-tied night skycrying to the moon andits narrating defensesagainst my remarks, commentstoosnark: it'snever too dark to notice the spark, deadshooting stars have beentrying to prove. to me, it takesmore than will to movethe north to the south, no field willhelp you, no power will allow you,no words will let you.should've stuck to rhyming forcatharsis and, let the night cry toa fraudulent sun andfound comfort in anonymity tohang on some more; should've quitbeing a witness before ifell to the floor. should've openedmore booksbefore popping those pills and letthe driftwooddrag reluctance until itswam into ripples too perfect forthe moon, and stayed to hold thestars when they fellinto our lagoon.probably could've lied aboutdiscovery and the Nile, probably would'vegranted every wish worth the while. could'vesaid the day was too dark for thenight, could've stopped the moon fromsettling to surviv
apologetic blood"hold still," you said and iturned my head and shut my eyes.i didn't want to feel your icefingers and your bitten down nailsplaying with my insides (at leasti convinced myself i didn't, anyway.intimacy and lust are too hard todeal with at the same time.)i trusted you - my hope mixedwith the blood streaming throughthe veins in my eyelids, my hope thatwas carved like ancient sacrifice andan old ritual in my twig thin bones, and youbroke it. it wasn't a normal stab, not a dullache surrounded by seeping dark red liquid, not the kind of stab that makes you writhe and watch your sorry 17 yearson earth ticking in front of your eyeslike a time bombno - a stab that makes you see red, a stab that feels as small as an atombut erupts like the vibrations of thetectonic plates shifting, and you justkept going.i didn't look, not once, i wasn't afraidof the gore but what if i saw youenjoying causing me so much pain? insteadi remembered autumn
microcosm of the young despondentsfolk here are emptyof rhapsody brightness(airlocked possibilities stay the wonder of living--out walks logic into the worldto live half-heartedly) she has a knot in her throat tied long agoin a countryside weddingblue skied perfection at the timeyonder impends a husband in black attirestaring out across the quiet landhe can hear his heart slowslow downthe dreams of the town people made to sail in the open ocean, arelandlocked away for safe suffocationas held breaths in a cemetery
voice trips across heartbeat,i want to anchor my spine inside your gravity.your smiles have been thinning down to pencil lines. there are no words between them. keep it that way so you can be a charcoal smear around my ribcage, so my body can become gray but still have color in the dead spaces you inhabit. we are both quiet. we sometimes have nothing to say.you cannot practice tragedy, but it came to you in the white noise between our words. we do not know what we want. we are not decisive. we are young and our dreams are too big. we try not to talk about it.you can buy sex if you want it, you can buy stars if your life is dark. you can let your knees hit the dirt but physics will not care and it will hurt more every time. you can let my eyes blink like the letters on your alarm clock at 3 a.m, but the abyss of a dark bedroom will not care if your lips part and you have nothing to say.if we become the horizon, there will always be enough time. it is the only thing i can trust, the only thing i know lasts forev
tiny heartbreaksi."My life would be betterif you loved me."ii.Is it worseto lie to yourselfthan to your lovers?Is it worseto hate yourself--iii."Human", she said,and there was venomon her tongue.iv."I want you to careabout the wayyou brokemy heart -as long as I bleed,you should suffer."v.Tell me,what are you,and what would you beif you didn't feel?
It's still you, I swear.When I lightthese cigarettes,it's you,and when I singsongs off-key,it's you,but when I rollover in the night tofind a breathing boyinstead of yourghost,it's not you.It's you inmy morning coffeeand it's you inmy favourite jeans,and it's you in theblisters that formon my fingers.Only I have takenyou out of me and turnedyou into things I loveand do and read becauseI wanted to love himtrue,not you.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesuntil she realized their beautyrubbed off on her fingers;but she will always be loving youwith those digits.20 years from nowwhen even the love on her armsis unrecognizable.
save yourself.i have been crying almost uncontrollably for several days now, and i am torn between love for everything you'vedone and hate for the single thing you did. its not like i never saw this coming, i did. but fuck. nothing could ever haveprepared me for this. prepared my chest to be so utterly crushed in an instant. all of a sudden everything was swallowed upby overwhelming sadness and i wanted so badly to blame you for everything, and just sink into nothingness, or drown it in afew dozen bottles of anything i could get my hands on.if you've given up, well so have i.
bad days.on my bad days,i open notebooks like bibles and hold pens like lifelines. i keep opening the book of my memories just to see if it still leaves a bruise.tonight,i am covered in the bruises of your hand tonight, your ghost is in my bed. i can't sleep there,so again- again i find myself miles from homewishing on stars i can't see and spitting memories into the ocean like watermelon seeds. i sit on my longboard like driftwood and send my shivers into textslike letters i never should have mailed.on my bad days,i wear cuts like ropeburn,like i just don't know when to let go. i get lost inside the sadness and hold tea thats long since gone coldas hours escape like small birds set free. i forget to open the blindsand paint my fingernails black and stare at the too-big numbers aligned on the scale i can't stop stepping on.my th
NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.She’s a devil,that one.Glad for her spine,& her teeth,even God hands fear her.For she has arched her backfor a flower-womanwith sin drippingfrom her fingers-who taught herhow to laughlike the stars.
when a poet's heart breakswhen a poet's heart breaksbottles hit the floorpacing feet pitter-patteron cracked linoleumand all quiet lips can thinkand loudest minds can say isyou you you you you.when a poet's heart breakswords and verses and linesof poe and dickinson and frostcover the peeling paint of alabaster wallswhile colorblind ears and deaf eyesmake no motion to stop the rainand silent screams echothroughout the never-ending night.when a poet's heart breakssour whiskey tinges the airpill bottles scatter across the floora twitch, then two hours laterwaking up in the bathtubbreath coming in cloudslimbs a tangled fumbling messeyes now accustomed to the pitch blacknothing.when a poet's heart breaksclouds cover broken slicesof abandoned sunlight andthe stars cease to glimmeror rather, the eyes of storybooks godsburn out andthere is no such thing as summer anymorewhen a poet'sheartbreaks.
sleep, as an elephant1.it is strange to see youolder and out of love with meit is similarly strange to see meyounger and out of love with you.i want tothrow my arms around your neckand saythank you forleading me to believe in love,thank you forshowing me what the cock doeswhen it crows and summons the morning.thank you for laying in my bed,breathing my breath.thank you for laying in my bed,with your head on my breastlistening to the flutteringbird in its nest.thank you for staining my bed-with your salt, it was blessed.thank you for leaving my bed,giving my dreams to its next.thank you for, out of all the rest,choosing me as the first, rememberingme with the best.thank you for june,and then june again.thank you for december, anddecember, amen.thank you for the timethat helped me break my body in-thank you for two tickson the wall of not-forever.thank you for june to june to december.2.in a few years,when you are older still and i amgetting even younger, i want to take
gentlemanaround the face of the gentlemanis a silhouette of dignity & regrets
around the face of the gentleman
is a silhouette of dignity & regrets