05/24/2013

DEFEAT


here’s tonights poem,
its confessional and exasperated and tiring
because im tired
feeling sickly and sad and all i can do
is plummet into my hands
and try to blend my palm print
into my face and sign
breathe, baby, breathe, he tells me but im tipping over
and all i can ever consider anymore is leaving in the middle of the night
running, not even away, just running
from everyone and everything and every place i’ve wanted so badly to call home
i don’t believe i belong in any place,
not even in your arms like i romantisize with my words
and in the middle of the night the only company i want is the wind
i was to know my own skin and touch things instantaeneously
ceremoniously
like francium,
i am the most unstable element
and i wonder sins im repenting
what skin i am shedding,
and why these kids are so strung out
all i can do is sit and consider the same thoughts
peruse the same forks in the road in my mind
it terrifies
to never see something new
and i don’t feel sexy anymore
but mostly because
the eroticism behind being understood
has become totally unfathomable.

05/21/2013

CONTROL

the inside of my body holds contradictions down in the midst
of heated arguments, and
with colliding trajectories
I try to drown out the multiple voices inside my head.
they reemind me of locusts in the summer times,
feeding, buzzing, distracting.
they are my patient, paid therapost
deeming me (yet again),
appropriately unfixable

05/15/2013

SUGARSWEET

All these pills
metaphysical
of my inadequacies

So many things
I couldn’t say, incapibility
lining my lips
bittersweet
tingling
the aftertaste of non-belonging
of wanting,
daunting
sugarsweet effort
(too much too much too much) consumed
sick to my stomach of all the trying,

here’s the difference between
not wanting anyone
and wanting absolutely no-one

there is a clinical satisfaction
in solitude
some strange comfort
in not having to be

05/14/2013

CONSTRUCTION

if they had told me from the start that
the only thing standing between
knowing myself and subsequently
everything
was just me, and that
it wasn’t so difficult
to love ourselves
this journey would have been
less bruised and battered.
But, I wonder
How many experiences would therefore
not have drowned at sea,
thrown into abysses
I dreamt of not having given away
so many pieces of myself

Anonymous asked: can you write more for us about love and being in love?

there’s only ever been one person i was in love with, and i’ve been through the entire heart wrenching break up-silent treatment- hate-love (still??)-confusion- drama- hooking up- friends with benefits- fucking-more complications—the whole thing. all of it. and finally it’s come down to acceptance and comfortability and i never in a million years thought that it would end up like this. but the result has been so unbelievable, so fantastic and solid and magnetic and captivating and fun, its been so beautiful and something im grateful for, because he’s so much more than just someone i once loved and someone who knows all my secrets. it’s cliche but true in the way that only and all cliches are, but he’s become one of my best friends and i love him even more (impossible, right?) than i ever could being in love with him

??

most nights the moment my head hits cold fabric
my skull reassembles. a sticks to c and b sticks to e and d is left down, at the bottom of the ocean.
i do not think of the broken ends and jagged gravel that paves your front walk 
too clearly reminded of my bi-weekly sunday morning walks of shame 

my friends do not know about you.
have not seen the demon that i’ve seen
(allowed devouring) 
making something more then love
i was cataonic, it was unfair
there’s no way a quadruped- a four limbed human could have done that thing you do with your tongue i like.

i still remember how hard it was to get the scent of you off my windbreaker
harder than keeping the hotel room happy when you forgot your viagra and happy pills. for some oddity, childlike
i asked to engaged you with hopscotch in the nearby park while you sat
watching me make a fool of myself
smoking, like you were already done with this.

here’s where i call you baby-
remind you of how i insisted the lights were turned off,
you not protesting seeing endless
unwanted scars and skin tissues.

these are fragments of green sea glass on my night table.
when it’s cold they remind me of the color of your eyes or the color you might glow
when you see me with another man (you justified by calling him “boy”) 
there are pieces of my hair braided into every web of lies i’ve knit myself and
bobby pins everyplace i’ve felt at home

ill count these seconds down with these sips of my bottle of patron
and drinking, drunkening,
falling to the bottom of the ocean
the only thing i can think is they should have taught me to love myself in school.

05/02/2013

Read More

04/29/2013

existentialism basically defines the world as being absurd- meaning that it’s full of work and effort while lacking any real value or meaning. the positive side of this, however, is that existentialism validates individual existences. each person has the duty of affirming their own worth and their own abstract senses of meaning despite “the absurdity of the universe”.

04/27

i know there were days you wanted to die
hoarding all your shortcomings and missed social cues
the first time you learned you were wrong-
feeling like ecstasy when they beat the beauty from you

the Japanese believe when an object reaches it’s 100th birthday
it becomes alive and self aware, and as you undressed and stood
before me
pointing to the valleys and precipices of bone like graphite, your skin like porcelain
i counted backwards from 1000 just your limbs could breath life ten times stronger than a racing heart

you deserved to know more than yourself

three hours later
laying side-by-side
not serene or happy, only scared (more than anything)
of ourselves

your back like a jackson pollack
i found redemption
the un-numb becoming good

“there’s something wrong with one of us”

i feel very done with the way things have routinely been. it’s a short time of wanting to dismiss the world with credible reason, but i feel dismissed as well. there’s not a single interesting boy or girl i seem to be able to walk away from, thinking “wow. okay. grand”. they’re all these mistakes waiting to happen, these “that-was-a-bad-idea”s i know will probably fail. im a pendulum with my emotions and forking roads with my thoughts. i must have been glued together wrong. i hope i mend eventually, rather than decompose and disintegrate (which, sadly, is the liklier option).

a way, away

there’s a way to go away for good. a way to wander, to meander off
into a sunset on a grimy beach that reminds you sometimes of the beauty

in breaking down. and walking towards the moon you told me that now,
because we could name stars stars after people, there was no more magic.

we held onto an irrelevant, woeful, useless ball of gas, reminding those
who are still suffering, (existing) that once too we were breathing their air.

i was the one to burn the genie’s lamp all the way through and only now
was there dark. From the coldest corner of the cave, where

you buried the wishbone you hadn’t broken, along with your collected memories
burning underneath your tongue, devastating all your raw material.

in ancient rome they’d put poison in their mouth to kill whomever they’d kiss
and concise, like a how-to novel, i showed you what it meant to be alive

in a world where we spent sundays doing nothing and wishing for immortality.
misguided ghosts and soluble like chemicals but not solvable like problems

trying to make sense of winding roads we were told to follow but
we only went over and over again. in circles, that only the truly madly deeply insane

engrained, could have drawn. Most people i know waste their words.
they waste away in searching for the lights of the underground that can only be felt

mid laugh. and upon holding a newborn and finding echoes in your room
like the strength in your voice. and the pulsing of your fingertips

as your heart beats tempo to blues music, and you tell yourself to steady your hand
breathe like a lamaze class, count nine— eight, seven

six —you are so far better than the Pristine. five. four —you are the space between the stars
three— significant. two— you learn, with every goodbye you learn. one and nowhere close to done.

“a million little pieces”

I close my eyes and I let my body shut itself down and I let my mind wander.
It wanders to a familiar place. A place I don’t talk about or acknowledge exists.
A place where there is only me. A place that I hate. I am alone.
Alone here and alone in the world. Alone in my heart and alone in my mind.
Alone everywhere, all the time, for as long as I can remember.
Alone with my Family, alone with my friends, alone in a Room full of People.
Alone when I wake, alone through each awful day, alone when I finally meet the blackness. I am alone in my horror.
Alone in my horror. I don’t want to be alone.
I have never wanted to be alone. I fucking hate it.
I hate that I have no one to talk to, I hate that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right.
I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and dreams with,
I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams,
I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again.
I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness.
I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me learn how to stop screaming.
More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone.
More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn’t alone.

*

you’re a narcotic
collective immunities
to the calloused hands
and your ceaseless smoke tricks (be-
gin) to become addictive
building tolerance
the kisses like death wishes
my tongue is ablaze

read it outloud please

04/10/2013

i wonder
if whenever you push the button to your dryer you think of me,
the small of my back pushed up against it
and fucking on your floor
after telling you i was sick of being lonely
i wonder if you held your arm out
and the needle permeated into your skin
like you permeated my mind
and if drugged, you felt fluid and if you felt alone
the way i did watching you sleep
months after walking away
sitting on your fire escape alone
watching a neighborhood i didn’t know
satisfied at last
i was learning to let go

i was learning to let go the same way he did
with that angry writing i read weeks later
having kept my silence for six or seventh months
and asking him, finally, breaking quiet to see his camera, to
see the world through a lens i was sure i knew, but didn’t
with someone i loved, and did. oh god, how i did.

and she asked me that question i’d practiced responding to in my head yesterday afternoon
and i told her, yes, but i would not recommend falling in love
(i remember crying for months)
it’s unimaginable that i didn’t drown because there was an ocean falling off my eyelashes
and then today
she hugged me and held me and in her nook and crannies i nuzzled my head
and sometimes
when she laughs its like
i don’t even understand how someone can be so incredibly
wonderful and wholesome and mean well but i am so happy she exists and is in my life and i am going to miss her so much and every
time someone hurts her i want to gather up my three and a
half pounds of muscle,
(7 or 8 ounces of which are heart)
and yell at them until they apologize profusely because i never want someone to hurt as badly as i have seen and maybe even how i’ve been

in seven or eight ounces i carry every memory i want to
take to the grave
and all my past grievances
and even all my faults, ill admit
because these welts on her arms are just as captivating as
the words you’re reading now. right now. 
and i need you to know this is my sorrow speaking
i am so raw sometimes they should serve me by the pound on a
platter
say, “i’m not kobe beef, but ill get the job done”

perhaps, i guess
i am trying not to edit myself
and i don’t want to hurt anyone
but i can’t understand why i can feel so fulfilled when
a girl i thought, thought i was the epitome of the worst parts of high school
tells me she never realized how beautiful i was

i pity myself for needing this reassurance
and for loving myself based on how many strangers find
me appropriately fuckable 
i don’t want to be another coat-closet girl

i want so desperately to be made love to
because no one has ever kissed me and tried to swallow  the things i wanted to say
they only tried to swallow me,
whole.

they tried to suck the oxygen from my lungs and make me collapse and i would gasp
and they’d think i found them breathtaking but i just
needed to understand where all the air went?
i don’t get it. 

you aren’t supposed to destroy someone you love.
my heart and my tethered strings and loose knots have
all wound tight into the shape of a noose
and I’m tying it around your waist and asking you not to jump
you say you want to anchor to me
like a ship. but I’m liable to sink us both

so float with
buoy with me
come kayak-river-rafting-cliff-diving with me
and tell me that when you jump 30,000 feet from the floor of the copter
the adrenaline you feel is nothing compared to the
tsunami upon my tongue
and the lightning that’s awakening you
you are brightened
and i am here
you are stable
and i am here
and you want
and i am here and i love you. i love you and i love you
and i love. you. i love you. i love. i. you. 

*

i don’t understand a world where people can live blind and unafraid and its takes me all the courage in the world to get out of bed in the morning.

i have come so far from the freshman with the holy land inside her

and years ago, i was reading rules on how to live by girls with stick thin legs and stick and poke tattoos

and now im writing the rules myself

im sort of aimless, i realize

but i can profess that i’ve had many people cry in front of me,

some have tried to die in front of me

and i held them at arms distance, pleading with them, telling them they are stronger than this; they are more than the sum of all their parts, they are better than the worse thing they have ever done

that i love them. that i believe in them. that they are not alone, 

but at 12:56 on a monday night

im sitting with books piled high around me

and my nerves vibrating

but i am catatonic

and i am empty

and longing

and lonely

and lost