Abidethi will not write youinto a seraph,nor mend yourheadaches,nor nurse yourraw pock-pitted tonguebecause youdo not wear yoursins likeebbed moonson your wrists& youhave never beenone of the damned
Saltwater Burnsmend your brittlepoet fingers &nurse your static headsunwashed--cherry lips &blue, blue fingernails[girls like you areselenium-sweet &withering]
and we'll rotoh, poet boy,you are notthumbed bruisesor honey bones& you have onlyever been a godinside of your own head
Vertebraewe dressed oursalt burns;purloined ribbons& bone crownsspitting static throughour buzzing t.v. teethyou're a silent migraine:blue-blooded, honey-soaked[& i want to be somethingtoo pristine totouch]
Celestewe'll kiss hell's palms likewretched ministersbefore we give sermons tonight;yellowed wayfarerspacing scaffolds, we longto wake immaculate -deceased
shetar-tongued;sea-brittle sugarbones & star-stitchedwitheringwaste offever burns &blue lips
(Un)windi could drink youlike heavy sipsfrom glass bottles(hesitant,shifting lips)you flicker likewax light,jackal-eyed girlbut youwill notbloomgolden-plated
Vitiatei am a phantom,smoking hallowed satyrsinto my helium head;you're plucking amber teethfrom between the jaws of eden
tar-sweetwe're rotting lace & lovingcigarette burnssugarcane black birds,purloined anthems &selenide spinessalt-water wounds;silver cicadas rattling inblue skulls
Astrali'm the seraphicromanticist,a hallowed bodyswallowing galaxieslike i am hellbent onself-deterioration
Modifyi am tellurium melancholy -i speak like i am a godwhile i decay: blood bruises& stelliform girls arecelestial bodies, lime lights
Wasteautumn was rock candy,lingering heat &headachesplucked feathers,bird skeletons on yourback porchyou can wear your fingersdown to needle-points, love(but it won't make you a writer)
CapriciousWords have becometasteless to me,I'm afraid—like rotten applesfit for the worms.Quite frankly,it feels asthough I amdancing withoutglass slippers;pirouetting my way througha ballroom full oftongues made for poetry.Where's awicked witch whenyou need one?All I seem to do isdream while I'm awake and,if we're being honest,I was never much of an alluring talein the first place.
.i feel change, the waythe birdsong changes when thecat goes out for lunch
Panic AttackI don't knowIt just hurtsKill the monsters inside of meDon't let them growPlease, you're my only hope I cant help but to yellI'm out of my damn mindWhat's that smell? Smell my skin burning, I'm in hell Oh what to believe, what to believeYou or this self-destroying symphonyI'm shakingGod, save me I'm just a fucking mistakeI cant go any furtherI'm drowning in a salty lakeWhat is it like to be sane To be at peace, in controlto feel no painI try to break free but the voices pull me backI struggle and screamBut my self-worth are their snacks
sometimes I wish we were strangersfamiliarity breeds contemporary romance;that never-ending needto have your rhythms running in patterns laid out by ThoughtCatalog articlesand that one friendwho has casual sex like well-writtensimiles. urgencyslipped off our sweaty fingersand left us lazy,peeling back the layers of each other absentmindedly : cellophane-wrapped candy in a movie theater.but darling, I remember a timewhen we broke walls with bare handsthat needed lifelines, not laceunderwear -and we built bridgesin fireproof stone andfriday afternoons :we were heartbeats exchangedin kisses fierce and feverish,and tangled earphone cords that bound usin ways only lonelinessknew how to forgive. maybe when we're done carving out routines in our bones,we'll take a right turn at the cornerof shelf lives and s
drinki crafted my lungs into coastersfor all of this heaviness, but i stillcan’t breathe at night.i look into mirrors hoping to seea difference, but ghosts are stillinvisible.i've swam in shot glasses deeperthan your convictions but somehow,i still drown at the thought of you.
schematicshe sayswe only recognize our rhythmswhen they're sung to us, the patterns laid at our feet like so many cigarettes and silly rabbits - realizesteps echoing in halls emptyof anything outsidethe lines we draw to define ourselves: graffiti monsters on the floor, hopscotch and hearts arrow-struck, scribbled out in colored chalk;our daily destinies decidedby sweaty footprints on glazedcedarwood -we dance unencumbered,one million billion angels atop this pin, spin, spinning,stuck in a free-fall, relishing the view:and we know all the words, they're the best words, our words,because these songs are our own,to live and love and leave to fade,to each his own cadence, but I bet I could get you to dance with me. listen, there's a hell of a good ballroom next door. let's go.
InspirationI’ve walked around the world to find youI’ve looked for you in each and every placeBecause you left me with no reasonYou disappeared without a traceI picked up the tombstones looking underneathI dived in my trashcan of memories and painI threatened to charge you with my crime of despairI pressed my arm to a blade and carved your nameI drank a thousand shots, a thousand bottlesExpecting to find you waving through their bottomsThis was my life's biggest mistakeI should have searched you in another placeI should have looked for you in a baby’s cribIn my loved ones eyes, in the winter breezeI would have found you lying on the sandSleeping soundly, waiting to take my handI should have seen you in the mirrorAs you were helping me define myselfI would have understood you so much betterI would have known you want to tellthat you’re always there, in my soul, in my headyou were helping me understand the livingand I was looking for you among the dead
spadeyou, into my bonesdug marrow with a spade.my house, filled with cats & combs;only breathless air can fade.the points of his nailsraging against her patchwork quilt,ripped off the ends of my cattailsand my celosia began to wilt.there are many wicked thingsand the spade is most impartial.swords and daggers will slay kingsbut the spade buries the marshall.
shiveri.you know exactly what to say tostartle the butterflies in my ribcagefrom an impossible dormancy.ii.our ribs are feathers thatwhisper secrets throughthe air trapped in our lungs.iii.even though i traced nameless streetsinto your complexion, you could neverhelp me find my way back home again.
parenthesis1.i didn’t realize that you were my sixth vertebraeuntil i broke myback. ( i stepped through the cracks in the tunnel when you held my hand )you skated out of the hospital like the ribbonsliving in the edges of my eyelids -i knew you were a dancer on the left stage of my Broadway right around the streetlights in my ribcage.2.i switched my veins for electricity and my eyes for strobe lightsletting the vibrations shatter my sweet bones. ( we drove that car down i-75 at breakneck )you shivered into my skin like hyperactive meteors& i thought i was your polish girl [stretched into your cosmos]3.displaced echoes crackled in my eardrums and under my pinky toe as Edison pulled the wires tightand my veins ignited under your glow-in-the-dark smile. ( you were every photo on my camera)
Arms Of A StrangerThe view is painted today in such blazing colors,But at least are dimmed all the errors.The vapid grey of his eyes turned into cyan,While the blonde hair had rapt the shine of the sun,Bodies without faces are swallowed by the mist one by one.The distorted sound seems stunning,But at least is indecipherable every word coming.My sight is blurred but I think his face reminds me of another "him",In these whirling waves I can barely continue to swim,So I hang on this stranger's face,Catch him in a breath-taking embrace.The words I said came out so twisted,But my tongue is knotting,The phrase was almost spitted
His lips are stretching into a smile of understanding,A whisper that is supposed to reach me floats away,But I purport this was okay,Sure, except the moment when I've almost lost self-control,A sudden contact of our lips imbued with alcohol.
kingdom animaliawe fester, feast on the banquet of our bodieslike divine liturgy on the tongues of sinners,become holes in each other’s cheekbones,our mouths running like catapults of impatience.when you looked up from molding the undersideof ambiguity into a tourniquet, you told me thatmy hair was a lion’s mane. i told you that mymistakes read like grocery lists:i tamed the pieces of you that curled bonesinto fistsinto jawsinto empty convictions.maybe the flesh wounds trailing down our armscould lead us to the other side of forever, but weare both caged lions:animalistic and gnawing elephant tusksto rubble since the dawn of time.
Rottelluric vapor settlesbetween spidered ribsdysphoric--rotting lace &smoke spiralsdearest,we'll decaylike the red-eyed girlsbehind bronze mirrors