river water

you were baptized.

i'm sure of it.

you're so clean,

so smooth,

so

nice

and i love it.

but i'm not going to touch you.

i don't mind the distance,

the lack of electricity;

it's just the idea that's taken me.

touch this,

touch that,

run my hand along your jawline

and feel imperfect stubble,

loving the realness;

for real perfection is not perfect.

that makes you perfect

in both senses of the word.

it's just the idea that amuses me,

the thought that i

me

could actually do it,

affect you.

unfortunately,

you don't affect me,

not like that.

it's just the idea that you exist,

and that try as i might,

i don't want this.

i'm all scribbles and worries,

one too many cups of coffee,

one too many sips of crazy,

and crazy is as crazy does;

i need someone to understand.

i'm sure you were baptized,

all clean and pink,

that's nice.

but where i come from,

we swim in murky river water

and i like that

a little too much

to ever be totally clean.

whatever

how to love you

the real question is
whether or not i will make you immortal
as i press my lips to the curve
of your cheek on the page,
feel your fingers gently grasp
around my wrist in a light grip
and sigh.
because this is such a slow moment
in time, stretched out along
the length of my bed
in the soft darkness of the night,
my body wrapped tightly in yours
as the two of us drift off
into sleep.
i do not know any other way
to love people,
but to write the lines
of your body clear across the page,
slowly claw the desire
of what you do to me
along the edge of my skin
as i shudder,
shiver and then collapse forward
into the memory of your arms.
and in doing so, i used to wonder
what you
and other people think of this,
because i will not regret it
in the end,
for this moment existed once
in this type of love,
carved out against the thudding
beat of my heart
as i slowly try to climb
into you, elicit
a smile and a laugh, trace
my fingers through your beard
and eventually fall asleep with
my head on your shoulder
and your arm around my waist.
for we'll exist,
immortal,
as love letters on this page together
long, long after these moments
are over.

the first two lines of the poem are taken from They eat out by Margaret Atwood.

No Word

I shoved that day aside
the moment it started.
Grey skies
with only patches of blue,
internal rhyming
in each casual phrase
said,
tossed,
that meant more
than at first glance.
There were too many forced alliterations,
too many under-the-breath mutterings
cluttering the belly
of every once-white cloud.
The ground was too hard,
the world shifting
too easily beneath my feet,
and the air was too supple,
too slippery to breathe.
Not just another day;
no catastrophe in sight,
but no rainbow ending either.
And no word from you.

Destroying the Me

Hectic is as hectic does
In my confusing state of mind.
I search and wander, frantic,
Hopelessly tugging at the past that binds.

Who I was is not who I am
And who I will be is neither.
It is a battle I cannot win
Hopelessly sewing myself together.

Help me find my flightless soul
and stabilize my scattered heart.
Burn these questions, erase my tears
Save me from falling apart.

What are you and how am I?
Long past fragments of space.
Where is now and who is that?
No longer a recognizable face.

Chase me, stop me, don't confuddle me;
Hold me tight before I go.
Leave me, love me, save me;
Let my voices flow.

on the way out

I think I’ll cry on the way out.
Today the heat is electric,

an acid on the bones 

as the hours climb higher into the sky. 

The blue is hot 

against the back of my eyes, 

no breeze 

as I lay myself down into the grass, 

green enough after the rain 

as if it could swallow me whole.
I am hoping it will 

before the end of my time here.
I am watching everything, 

as if by doing so I can imprint 

the curve of the road into me, 

the lines of the sidewalk, 

the brick of the buildings 

along my route home as I bike the hills, 

breath panting, skin boiling, heart beating 

along the edge of my mouth while I try to breathe. 

I am trying to breathe.
As if I can cage it all into my body, 

smear this feeling across my face, 

down my neck 

until the blood of it all reaches my heart. 

For there are only so many 

moments left, the beat 

of this pulse against me, 

counting down each second 

until I am gone.
I am finally leaving.
But this was a long time coming.
And I do not know how 

to express it anymore, 

as if I could have tried, 

written the cracks of my history 

out across my body, stretching 

the blades of my shoulders down 

into the page beneath the burn of the sun 

as I light my pale skin on fire. 

This is everything in these moments, 

the flight down the hills, 

the turn in the roads, 

the pale lights of the streets 

in the warm silence of the evening.
I have existed here. Broken 

my heart against a boy who did not know, 

shredded my mind to academics, 

pitched my body forward 

against the asphalt, cut the lines 

of language and isolation along my skin,

fallen in love with her as we laughed 

our way past midnight. 

I am familiar 

with the taste of the air, 

the feeling of desperation in the night 

as the semis roam the highway, 

the isolation a fever across my skin 

even as I stretch out my arms 

and encompass the whole of this town.

But in the end there is no choice but to go. 

For everything is now ending.

live wire

it's normally between
the hours of 10 and 3 am
when i can feel the pulse of the city
a live wire across my skin
while i stare out into the darkness
not yet at the point where i miss the stars
since there are so many lights
burning brightly tonight

and i'm finding it harder and harder
to breathe
the air still beneath my fingers
as i raise my arms
rake my fingers through my hair in frustration
against the empty promises
of the night

cause i would like for it to fill me
blacken smoke across my teeth
a whisper of a sweat along
the back of my neck
and the slow pressure of your fingers
digging into my arms with each bite
and grip as you drag me towards you

for there is no way to fill this
puncture this desire
scratch the itch of desperate touch
free from shallow winds
while the city shines coldly
electric from the third floor
and on the other side of my window

i have nobody here to ask
to touch me

Through Fishnets

I walk forward,

'nets gripping my thighs

and goosebumps raining from my arms

while warmth spreads through my body,

shedding the chill

as if by magic.

Silk and buttons and pretend lace,

cheap boots,

expensive lipstick,

a night out

with confidence by my side.

There's a laugh here too;

it keeps echoing across the bare valleys of my collarbones

and finding its way to my ears.

I resist the urge to turn and share.

Instead,

I smile, taking half-part,

saving a few for a rainier,

colder day.

A shoulder bump,

warm skin brushing against thin cloth,

pulling away from the wrong

and inventing the right;

stepping to the left

and creating space,

solidifying the distance.

I walk forward,

'nets gripping my thighs,

holding onto my skirt

and letting that chill back in,

discarding the easy warmth.

I walk forward,

giving it up,

giving it away,

shedding the feeling,

shedding the idea of it

as if by magic.

Fishnets,

holes,

spaces,

filled

by warm magic.

In the Mountains

Looking down, high upon the pinnacle
of potent moss and grainy dirt, a heart
races; ready for the rushing decent
on rubber and metal.

Far away are the crushing, irritating
Screams of the ever growing
demise of health and state of mind.

Beyond the roofs of tranquil
greenery lies the chaotic rush
of sights and sounds; waiting
for my return to its unwanted
embrace.

But not yet, for now I am here,
high above in the lush bush
preparing to invade the
silence with my cry.

Sticks and rocks spew out
behind me, feeling at
peace upon the blue machine growling
and revving as I fly to the
bottom of the mighty mountain.

Tyrannosaurus

Thrice the boom resounds through
the air,
Three times the earth shakes,
Of three poundings of the heart
Death comes mighty and fast.
A gleam of dripping white,
pasty wet pink.
A breath of fowl, putrid blasts.
Sounds of reverberating roars
and painful screeches.
A vision that has never been seen.
Feel the power of the ancients,
the fear in witness to such strength.
The inevitable comes on gargantuan jaws.
All is now finished as regret and
blood saturate the air.
What more mistakes must be made
in awaking the gate through time; never
to be opened yet tried again and again.

Almost There

There's a pause,

and a tilt of the head,

a smile instead

of a word.

There's a pause,

a catch in time,

less than a second of silence

during which an eternity appears

and disappears

at light speed.

It's swallowed up

in the space between our eyes,

in the slow blink of weary lids

and the sullen turn of my head,

unwilling to part with this moment.

It's swallowed up

by my hand, clenched tight

to prevent it

from reaching out;

instead, I have grabbed this eternity

and silenced it,

curled my fingers around the soft shape

and stuffed it,

only slightly bent,

into my pocket.

Just now, I took it out

and tried to straighten the edges,

tried to get a clear picture.

I'm almost there,

almost back in that eternity,

almost willing to give it a try.

I'm almost there,

too soon it seems,

almost ready to jump,

to release

my breath,

form words,

unfurl pages of this

into the air.

But I know myself too well;

I will always be

almost ready.

Even though it feels

like more

when I'm with you.

Do You Dare?

To paint with colours brighter than
The lights reflecting from your prism
Of hearts.
Of beautifully grotesque masks,
Twisting, glaring and teasing as
You search for hidden wishes.
To venture into musical and
Seductive night, hoping to grasp
Its beauty.

Do you dare

For considerable heights only achieved
By the touch of a gem so fragile
You lose its true purpose.
To jump into the illusion of
Monstrosity, only to reveal its true
Loneliness.
Of thoughts and feelings gnawing,
Clawing at one another, until
Their true intentions are found.

Do you dare

To look inward at the mirror
You have painted for yourself, just
So you could shatter its lies.
For the purity to seep into your
Ever empty life and free the you
That is you, from the Earth with
Ingenuity.

bit by bit

bit by bit

even
beneath the grasp of your hand
against my neck       the pull
of my hair against my scalp
and the burning gasp
that is wrenched
from the confines of my throat
i will build it
bit by bit
stick by stick
pebble by pebble
and bone by bone
this city       paradise
stretched along the length of my back
a river flowing between
the blades of my shoulders
white fog along the edge
of my skin       blue
and purple flowers blooming
deep within the spaces
of my ribs
while the red crunch of autumn
dries clean and crusted
between my lips

and in the end
this is perfect       regardless
of your absence i
am still building
and growing and
constructing and colonizing
and reclaiming the land
you took
away from me

bit by bit
i'll pave over
the remainders 
of your presence

open

let me open the body
red along the lines of my lung
scoop my hands together
to the axis of your heart
as the world tilts sideways
when i move in to kiss you

let me open my body

lock my fingers within 

the shallow indents of my hips

bend forward at the waist 

and breath slowly

through the pain and the beat

and the kiss of it all

let me open your body

straddle the width of your hips

run my fingers through your hair

and breathe deeply

almost enough to meld you to me

so i will never have to let go

when sleep approaches

because i can count the beat
of the moments until morning
trace the lines of your jaw
and scrape my nail gently
along the curve of your ear in a shiver
of delight

and by the end of it
i am gloriously happy

crying

and in the end

i don't know why

but all i feel like

is crying

just enough to grope open

the length of my pelvis

grip my fingers deep 

into the give of my blankets

while i bury my head into my pillow

as to not allow myself

the temptation of screaming

in attempt to remedy

the situation

before i shatter apart

in the emptiness of tonight

i do not know what is wrong

how to tell you this or

even just to ask for you to hold me

tightly on your arms

until the confusion ends

or i finally start crying

whichever comes first

The World In

Put your ear to my chest, the ocean's inside.

                         Jump on yourself;

             Notebook.

             Chesty La-raux

                         Jump down, spin right.

The point is to be witty and sharp.

                         The clouds look like,

                         Moon man face.

             Crooked dreams tell all,

                                      No they didn't.

             Mustaches and metal man.

Weather really

Whoomp, there it is

          Walking down the road.

                      Prizzy Drake Rogers.

           Top down in the Winter that's what

           Winners do.

Switch it up

            Mercury       diamond
                          heat              heft.

            Frumious glocktin blame,

                          Everybody?

Sad, Really

If I’m not mistaken,

I saw you today,

pale but golden,

flimsy

yet rooted to where you were standing,

neck bent,

looking off into the distance.

I know I am mistaken,

seeing you today,

so many miles away from where this could be true;

but the truth is,

I keep seeing you.

Reflected in every dark head of hair,

shining through every silly, crooked smile,

every turned back

becomes your broken one,

and I am scared

every time it happens,

skirting around the corners

with my eyes trained on your shoulders,

waiting for them to

snap

and turn towards me;

scared

of how wrong I am,

to see those shoulders turn with someone else’s face

held aloft on that neck;

scared

of the strength with which I pull the door open

and escape each facsimile of you.

It’s sad, really,

I know this,

involuntarily shrugging it off,

excuses ready-made,

for I know this will fade

in time.

It always does;

the shock of a new place

makes me run back into old ways,

and soon you’ll be gone again,

no more shadowing me,

no more appearing in every face,

no more escaping

each metaphor,

each reference made;

soon you will fade

and I will move forward

into that sunset,

the one that you see when you stand like

a cowboy,

crooked,

bent,

head tilted,

eyes transfixed.

And I,

unable to help myself,

am transfixed too,

even as I move on.

Gone

The world has shift
Since the time of your passing.
I wonder, will it
Ever be right again?
Music that used to make my heart soar
No longer holds their old magic.
My favourite past-times
Fade to the back of my consciousness.
As I see your pictures and hear your name
Tears stream uncontrollably,
But none of it matters.
Why did I hope you would get better,
When everyone said you wouldn't?
Why do we fool ourselves like this?
For days it felt like a dream; a lie.
But then I saw the case that would
Hold you forever and the world came crashing,
Smacking me in the face.
I miss you.

hot tonight

it's hot tonight
almost too hot for talking
your fingers a shadow of a trace
along the base of your glass
in the dark
as the wind flutters gently behind
the curtain
almost like a butterfly
just beyond the reach of my hands
as i lean in and try
to wrap my fingers within yours

it's hot tonight
too hot to talk 'bout fucking
the sweat curving down
the length of my brow
salt in my eyes as i blink
once twice hard enough
to try and clear my thoughts
as you cup the side of my jaw
and lean in
just far enough to break me
without falling

it's hot tonight
too fucking hot for love
it's just cold enough though
to press the pads of my fingers
against the molting bruises on my neck
until they hurt to the point of freshness
as i face my reflection in the mirror
the temperature in the apartment
slowly rising until
we reach boiling point together
and are finally finally
done

Plant Me Here

I already miss it,

the lazy crawl of time,

hurried waves across the water,

fast cars glinting under the yellow sun.

I miss the easiness of good-byes,

with the knowledge of their flimsiness

in this drawn-out frame of time,

long days

and warm nights,

the flight of feet across pebbles and sand.

I’d live there forever,

memories replaying,

never growing tired of those colours,

only tired from the day;

and yet

two or three hours will do it,

curled up with the imprint

that a warm body makes next to mine,

and if they’re there,

really there,

that’s fine.

But summer is when I don’t mind

being alone at night,

because I’d rather be perched on those rocking slats

of old wood,

water lapping at my heels

as they tease the water.

You could plant me here,

roots digging down through the cracks

and around the ancient tires

that keep this dock afloat;

you could plant me here

and I would grow.

I have grown

in these months,

as I always do,

mind, body and soul

drinking in the new words I learn

and the songs that repeat endlessly on the radio

and the lyrics I find in my head,

only to dig up later,

much later,

and put to wistful chords.

Bare toes,

freckles emerging,

hands seeking refuge in each other,

tinted glass peeling

to reveal more of the interior;

the leather seats

and empty bottles

and eyes lined with smiles

that show through those perpetual frames.

I’ll sit and wait

for as long as it takes,

until that shimmering sun takes its leave

and the only light comes from the old lampposts

that stick out of the water like totem poles,

protecting their darkness.

And when it’s over,

I’ll sigh,

summer escaping from my reddened lips,

you

escaping from my carefree arms,

sand washing from the creases in my old denim shorts

and trickling down the drain,

and I’ll move on.

I always do.

In the Darkness

Into the deep, deep forest

Vanishing into infinite darkness,

The endlessly repeating time

Floats in the whiteness of hair.

 

"In the darkness we do keep

All the treasure that you seek."

 

It beckons.

 

They're waiting.

What are?

The nightmares;

You gave them reason to invade,

Those lurking, shrieking devils,

Those monsters of flawless, killing perfection.

 

"In the darkness we frighten the night

Come dance our songs of sickly delights."

 

It tempts.

 

Why protect them.

Why miss them,

Why love them;

Those pitiful beings you cling to?

They barely live.

 

Come to me.

 

"In the darkness we do keep

The key to eternal sleep."

Makes You

Wishes make you hope,
While dreams make you think.
Reality makes you mope,
While love makes you sink.

Pets make you glad
And friends make you laugh.
Death makes you sad
And questions make you daft.

Comedies make you giggle,
While heroes make you bold.
Bugs make you wiggle
And birthdays make you old.

A Little Less

Well, I’m putting it off,

the part where my brain actually does something

useful

for once.

And instead I’m dwelling

on my mind,

in my mind

and out of it,

twirling through each day

on a slow fade

away

from what,

I don’t know.

But pulling me close,

this shadow,

it gives me what I want,

just that moment of contact

(warmth without electricity,

heat without fire,

lust without love,

a little less than desire)

and I’ll be fine.

I’m putting it off,

the part where I step down from this cloud

and step into my body.

Instead I’m dwelling on

in

above

the spaces around me,

moving through each day

on a fast train

away

from what, I don’t know.

But pulling me close,

this shadow,

it gives me what I miss,

just that uncertain rush

(warmth without electricity,

heat without fire,

lust without love,

a little less than desire)

which is a funny thing to say

because I think I desire it

after all.

cologne

i can sill
feel his arm
around me, his hand in mine,
the feeling of my body
next to his on the couch
and i am fucking empty without it.
yesterday's sweater
was the first thing i put back on,
then the red skirt
without any shorts underneath,
for his scent is still clinging
to my body.
and when i inhale
i'll remember him, his scent
and the sensation that i should
be climbing into him,
my hands in his hair, my mouth
on his neck. the restraint
of being in the car
with him, the casual movements he makes
with his hands as he talks,
his cologne faint
in the space between us as i lick my lips,
my mouth dry and wanting.
it takes all i have not to jump him.

crickets

there’s nothing like fire and stars when you’re drunk

i sleep

to crickets and coyotes and rain

this half a heart becomes a whole

whether or not you know it

out here i am never alone

spent most of my life

in places like these

and i’m always looking for more

recount the gossamer threads

because i love those words

and the nonsense means nothing

but i love nothing

it feels like home

there’s nothing like fire and stars when you’re sober

it’s not the alcohol that makes the scene

it’s the scene that makes the alcohol

obsolete

i sleep

to crickets and coyotes and rain

i drink

to crickets and coyotes and rain

i breathe

to crickets and coyotes and rain

i believe

in those gossamer threads

fire and stars

alcoholic words

i love nothing

it feels like home

My Version of 'The Nymph's Reply'

Now if the world were flat, not round

And truths were whispered from the ground,

Your pretty thoughts of life with me

Just might 'suade me to agree.

 

But the things you thought, and knew

Fall away in a year or two.

For time does wash away

All that you promised for today.

 

Birds move on to better places

And everyday you meet new faces.

Though water ripples and winds cry,

Soon they still; a drowning sigh.

 

Snow scares away the heat;

Howling wildly as it creeps.

Honey coating words with the now,

Trinkets promised with deceiving vows.

 

No joy can be found in roses,

Chocolates, letters or rubbing noses.

Your beads, your shoes, your rings,

Can be sought to buy better things.

 

Your murmurs of dresses, hats and clasps,

May astonish others in gleeful gasps.

But soon they will wither and break;

Exposing you as the fake.

 

So no more talk of diamonds and pearls;

For truth is gold as yours unfurls.

Flowers fade as time flies fast,

As romance fades with the past.

 

But if the world were to change,

And all the lies were rearranged.

I just might be persuaded to

Actually fall in love with you. 

patience

i'll apologize,
even after i've let you go,
sleep deprived and four orgasms later,
for the state of things
i created,
even though i know you enjoyed it too.
still, this is not all
about me
and i have to remind myself that
as i fight back the urge
to kiss you harder, wrap my arms
around you, pull your body closer
so i can feel your erection
against my body and the pulse
of the memory
of what it's like to have you deep inside me.
for somewhere along the lines,
between the bedsheets and my legs,
i should learn patience
or something.

a letter to doubt

all my life and all my goals

fade away

in your presence, dear doubt

i falter

all my time and my efforts

slip down from my shoulders

in your presence, dear doubt

i am only weighed down

by the future

dear doubt

i ask you

to spare me from the harsh light

keep me in the soft dark

asleep

painted on, this mural

time and time again

referred to as history

i'll live within those lines

if only, dear doubt

you'll spare me

all my life, all my goals

all my time, all the tolls you hake taken

i have paid

all my efforts, my breath

all my cries and my threats you have taken

i have paid

time and time again

in your presence, dear doubt

i am only weighed down by the future

in your presence, dear doubt

i falter

i need your love

i need
your love,
pale along the lines
of my skin
in the early pink of the morning.

the birds are barely
waking
as the sun creeps past
the body of the curtains,
just allowing enough light
to alluminate the side of your face
pressed into the pillow
in bed beside me.

you will not wake,
just like every other time,
even with the rustle
as i pull the blankets free
of my body,
plod my footsteps across the floor
to the bathroom as i shut
the door
without care that you'll hear me.

the sun is high
by the time i'm gone,
the spare key of your apartment
in the mailbox,
one of my earrings lost
between the mattress and the boxspring,
and the wind a faint whisper
through the leaves of your houseplant
that you've forgotten to water
once again.

and even after i regret it
i will still return,
regardless whether you kiss me,
smile in the light of the day fading,
trace your hand gently
along the side of my cheek
and lie,
just enough to keep believing
it all.

i need your love.

Water

I wrote this on the spot,
without a thought
as to who might read it.

I wrote this on a whim,
sink or swim,
I told myself,
trying to catch my thoughts as they floated by,
grab on
and make it to shore.

I wrote this sitting there,
on the rocky bank
of my escaped fate,
dripping with grateful water
and empty.

I wrote this empty,
trying to fill the space left over
from the thoughts that did escape;
I caught a few
and saved myself

but of course
I wasn't satisfied.
Sink or swim,
I told myself,
you knew how it would go.

I wrote this sitting there,
ashamed
and childish
and wanting more from myself.

I wrote this on a whim,
sink or swim,
I told myself,
write it now
or you'll forget.

I wrote this on the spot,
without a thought
as to who might read it
or why.

arrival

and i wonder how i got to here.

smile. whether for me, or him or anyone else

in particular, i don't know anymore.

not now. 

and i do not question it.

because regardless of whether or not i like it,

this city is beautiful,

the shallow curve of the mountains

in the distance as the traffic spans

the boulevards beside me.

for i inhabit (this) now, 

and my body moves, one foot

after another, the stretch and the pull

of my muscles in the morning,

the curve of my stomach as my hands

wrap around the width of my hips

in photos, and the mirror

and the odd moments where i am simply

aware of just being.

i have barely begun to explore the start

of my arrival (at the spaces between my ribs,

the line from my neck to the top 

of my shoulders, the curve of my jaw, 

the crease of my eyelids while i smile, 

hands on my hips, body curving over

in laughter while i dig my fingers

into my belt loops in an attempt to stay steady).

and in the end,

i am happy regardless 

of how i got here.

I

Where am I
How did I come to be
Alone
Who am I
What is my purpose here
Have I no reason for this life
Can someone tell me who or what I am
Am I a monster,
an angel, a ghost
Am I a devil,
a demon, a sham
Am I evil
Something hated most
Is this punishment for something I did?
Help me.

Forestry Road Used As Dumpsite

It is official

The snow is gone, roads are clear

Dump garbage for free.

breathing

one.

two.

three.

four. i am still breathing.

tonight and every night,

your fingers in my hair as you fuck me. hard.

almost to the point where i wish

for no mercy. one.

two. three.

four. five. six.

it's at the point where i no longer question it,

though i am often surprised

by the popular opinion,

for the internet is a bad place to be

when i have questions.

i have been told i should be choking, i should not

enjoy this, there should be no enactment

of agency to be found

within this moment.

one. two. three. four.

five. six.

seven. eight. nine.

ten. and each time i do this

i do not want

to apologize, not for the gasp

that escapes my lips as you bite me,

the grip of your fingers around my wrists,

the whole of your weight against me

as you pin me to the bed, or even

the frantic motion in which i move to kiss you.

for there is no point in questioning

the logic of how my lungs and body

breathe together in this natural state

of being.

Bite

I've just been
reciting the lines of that one bite,
one or two
or however many it took
for me to pull away.
In my mind,
it was a choice I made,
to end that soft embrace;
in truth,
it was that one cold
hard
bite.

So unlike you,
so strange.
You surprised me,
but you felt nervous,
shaken,
wary,
uncertain,
not ready,
not confident,
in your own ability to draw blood.
I pulled away,
just enough to tell you
I'd remember this.

In my mind,
it was a choice I made,
to wait until I could not see your mouth,
those teeth,
before I cut the string.
One string,
one quick snap,
and that bite was nothing but a few words in my mouth,
a few chords with no song,
an embarrassment to the idea of pain.

In my mind,
you tried too hard.

In reality,
I tried too hard
to try harder
to feel that bite,
until I felt it,
and it didn't feel right.
Sometimes, though,
I recite the idea of your teeth
sinking in,
and I am reminded
that in my mind,
it was a choice I made
to pull away.

Bite or no bite,
I would have done it anyway.

That Type of Love

That type of love,
marked black across the lines
of my skin rubbed raw
at the wrists and beating
painfully at the edge of my heart
as I lean forward
to fall.
I need to feel your skin on mine,
the crush of your fingers
in my hair, the tilt of my head
falling backwards
as I let go, allowing you
to be my only support
keeping me aloft with
the pull of those buttons,
the tear of my skin beneath
your teeth, my breath caught
in a ragged gasp fumbling
at the corners of my lips,
your name the last echo
before I allow myself
the gratification of
the end.

Arrival

the moon
glinting
onto the once-white wing
of an airplane
now dusted with darkness
and bathed in new light

coming in for landing
under a sky full of stars

poetic, i know
but this is my arrival
and i want it to be beautiful

in truth, it's mundane
just another passenger
eyes peering out the window
feigning disinterest
after all, i've been here before

in truth, i feel empty
waiting to be filled
like the real part
the important part
will come with time
after all, i've done this before

but this time it's different
and i want it to be beautiful

the moon makes it beautiful

the body says

i can trace my fingers over

the black lines, the swirl beneath

the skin now that i have marked

myself, the lines of my body

permanent.

and the body says whoa,

surprise, to the face in the mirror

as the shadows connect

down the right side of my skin,

pale enough from the end of summer 

beneath the light

of the small bathroom 

as i examine my reflection again

and again and

again, in hopes to achieve understanding,

of what i'm not quite certain yet.

still, i think i am beyond blooming now,

ripe along the sides of my ribs,

fading shadows of the marks 

you've left on my neck

as i stretch, raise my arms above my head,

and flex the beat of my heart

in the mirror, ink flashing

sporadically as i twist and turn

myself together and apart simultaneously. 

for i still exist, together, apart,
tattooed and bare, bruised
and healing in the lines of the mirror.
and i quite like this reflection.

& a comparison or 2

You are like a child

who grows younger

& younger

every day,

smoothing over lines

with the sharp -cracks- of a smile,

& swaying

back & forth,

back & forth

like the swing

in an overgrown backyard,

like the child who sits

(lonely)

on that swing

& grows backwards,

(backwards)

you regress further

with every moment.

You are like the hair that grows

from the head of the child,

?wild?

& unruly

& never the same.

Like their small, chubby fingers,

you are clumsy,

s t u m b l i n g around a dark world

that offers you

no rest

from your actions,

(& yet)

unlike a small child

who is more clever,

quieter

& observing

each moment in life,

(learning,

growing

by leaps & b o u n d s , showing

that there is hope yet for them

in our adult world,)

you cannot seem to learn

from the mistakes you make.

Each error leads to another;

like a child,

you are running in a circle,

forever chasing a butterfly

that has lost its wings.

Your toys lie

scattered around you,

abandoned,

dusty,

-cracked-

& broken.

Like a child,

you grow tired

of the same old routine,

the people you see

& the games they make you play,

(day after day.)

Moment after moment

after unplanned moment

you grow younger

until one day

you will be an infant,

unspeaking.

& then

you will be

wailing & wishing

you could grow older

& make it all up to me.