"There's nothing to be done."
"She's going to die."
"Would you like to say goodbye?"
PrisonerWe were teenagers the first time your skilled lips met mine.
You were winter’s cold and dusted with new-fallen snow.
The shadows that lay beneath your haunted eyes
Matched the bruises tattooed upon your ivory skin.
We were far from alone when our calloused hands met on accident.
He stepped out of the shadows and threw you to the frozen ground.
No noise escaped your gritted, cracked teeth as he beat you. Yet no
Amount of courage could hide the fear bleeding from your almond eyes.
We were barely adults the first time I met the softness of your skin.
Life radiated from your emerald eyes as your battered
Body and blood-crusted mouth moved
Against me in ways my body could not translate.
We were in the cemetery when we finally met without fear.
He was stone cold, buried six feet under a headstone. You
Were well dressed and newly wealthy. We both were newly
Divorced. Finally free from bruises, you proposed upon his grave.
PeaceOh my oldest of friends, I feel scared. Nothing is silent on this winter’s night.
Not the monsters screaming in my mind. Not the shutters slamming against the house.
Not the winds howling through this drafty attic bedroom. Not even Momma and Daddy.
No, not even them. They’re louder than ever tonight, old friend.
When they fight like this my mind’s monsters grow louder and harder to ignore.
They howl and snarl and spit lies and deceits. They say that Momma hates me.
They say that Daddy doesn’t love me. They say that, if he did, he wouldn’t let her hit me.
They are lying to me, right, old friend? Please say the monsters are lying.
Oh my dearest of friends, I cannot sleep. Will your lullaby arms sing me a song?
To me, your embrace is comfort embodied. Your voice is like a gentle breeze.
You bring me such peace, dear. Peace: it is something this place so rarely allows.
I am seldom safe and sound here in this hostile house, where Momma reigns with abuse.
Lost PermanenceAnother now rests on your side of my bed,
But some nights I still toss and turn for your arms,
Even though my side of your bed grew cold long ago.
NightmareYou and your spider-limbs are clockwork predictable.
Every night, upon the hour of my sleeping, your
Rubber soles step from Morpheus’s chariot
Into the once-serene sanctuary of my mind.
Your lanky limbs upcycle into my sleep cycle then,
As your ebony fog creeps into the land of my mind,
Darkness settles. Darkness always settles with the coming
Of you, no matter how white-hot your skin is. For the rest
Of the night all I can see is your humanoid arachnid
Form stalking the outer edges of my dreamscapes.
Every dream drives images of you deeper and deeper
Into the soil of my subconscious, freezing it to permafrost.
All revitalization has been sucked out of REM. It has been
Replaced with a cool poison that drives me to insomnia.
Some weeks I wish I could live eternal without sleep.
Some days I truly believe I’ll never need sleep again.
Those times reveal the darker side of this twisted hunt.
These days your faceless face haunts me even in
My waking hours. Your gangly midnight sh
CompanionMy life with you is a series of days and nights
Spent on an infinite highway, traveling without a destination.
We pass sheets and bodies melded and molded
Into figure eight, jug handle infinities.
Yet we continue on our journey,
Fingers intertwined and resting on the clutch
Of our broken-down, rusted-out, manual, imported car.
The interstate rolls on and on and on and on
And some days my heart feels like a blown-out
Tire. Other days I feel like a blown out tire crushed
Beneath the heel of an 18-wheeler pulling 90
Sans regard for anyone’s safety, not even the driver’s.
Travel-weary and bone-tired, there are days when I want to slam
The car door in your face and hitchhike my way back home.
Then I remember how far I have traveled.
How far we have traveled. Together.
How desperately I do not want to go back
There, back to that place from whence we came.
I remember how I have come to enjoy watching the lines
Of your face change with the terrain, tempo, mood, speed,
Of our travel
LifetimesI saw you first on the bank of the Thames, and instantaneously fell in love for eternity. You were picking flowers for your father's grave. He had died three months earlier in the dead of winter. You were married then to a boar of a man, and there were bruises on your arms from when he grabbed you and didn't let go. You and I had a tumultuous affair in the bushes and brush all along our little bend of the Thames. It lasted until autumn came, and you could no longer sneak away under the guise of picking flowers for your father. I was a wanderer then, and you assured me that I would find another. I assured you I would not. I was right.
I saw you again on the bank of the Volga. I was fishing in the shallows, ankle deep in frigid water. You were on the deck of a ship sailing past. Ours eyes met and held until you were out of sight for the rest of that lifetime.
You appeared to me next in the form of my best friend's arranged bride on the bank of the Ganges. Neither of us
ColdThe sun is rising and you're staring out of your bedroom window at the horizon. He's still asleep in bed, cupping the void where you're supposed to be. The blankets are twisted around his legs, his torso, his arms, creating a great maze of fabric. The sheets are pulled up here and there, revealing a restless night, a restless sleeper.
The morning beams are hitting your pale face in hues of orange and yellow and you're staring at the cars passing beneath you. The rush hour traffic is just beginning, heralding Monday and the start of another paycheck cycle. He should be getting up soon, beating the cry of his alarm, just like he always does. He'll forget to turn it off, as always, and it'll begin to ring while he's singing old ragtime tunes in the shower. Only you won't be there to turn it off for him. He won't have you to kiss goodbye after he's donned his suit. You are not in the bedroom you two once shared. You are in a hotel room, and there is another man in this bed, one who also cl
planesWe are parallel planes in the sky, flying toward the night. Intersection means certain death, but we'll meet again upon landing at dusk.
GoneMom's gone. I'm coming to get you.
The words bounce around my empty skull for a moment, refusing to sink in. Gone? How can she be gone? I just saw her this morning. She made me coffee. Kissed my cheek. Waved goodbye as I hopped into the car. She can't be gone.
I slump helplessly against the tiled wall of the bathroom, and slide to the floor, not caring what exotic diseases may lie in the grout. On instinct, I pull up a blank message, and text the only person I can.
Within minutes the door swings open, and the pulse of the party breathes life into the vacuum of the bathroom. It's Kara. She's covered in glitter and body paint, wearing nothing but a neon bra and a white mini skirt. She raises an eyebrow at my dazed expression. She's clearly not happy that I pulled her away from the party.
"What happened to you?"
I pull up my brother's text, and hand her my Blackberry. She sighs at the message. Kara's never been one for emotion.
"Didn't they say she had a few more months?"
I nod. N
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,
Be it my pride or dignity.
You may throw insults at me,
And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.
You may belittle me, as much as you want,
If only to make your meager life worth living.
But even if you do all that...
No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.
No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.
No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,
Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place...
"Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-
could only hurt
anyone who got
she held what
We Only Live To DieThis is what we live for—these whispers on our lips
The drying bits of blood on our paper-cut fingertips
Opening the letters that we left our future selves
A bittersweet reminder of those storybooks on the shelves
This is what we live for – this emotion in our souls
The torture and the bittersweet moments of lost control
Biting cracked lips with the dirt beneath our nails
These moments of imperfection as our trains of thought derail
This is what we live for – shutting doors and opening eyes
Smiling for a moment, before the tears reveal our lies
This is what we live for, this reality, this life…
This is what we live for,
As we only live
Past Tense BluesWases
So are weres;
And it's the becauses
That make them feel
That much worse.
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,
but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your soul
and if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybars
in this old and rusted park
you can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to you
if i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,
tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love you
and i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,
because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my life
or what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
You're Going to be Okay.It’s not your fault.
It’s not what you deserve.
Don’t think that way,
Because one day,
This won’t matter anyways.
Keep your head held high for now,
I know it hurts,
Words can feel suffocating.
As you feel like your lungs are collapsing,
Under the weight of the pain,
In your chest.
I know it stings,
And it seems like it takes forever for the bell to ring.
As you count down the hours.
But it doesn’t matter.
When you just go home,
To sit in your room alone.
Because words unlike bruises don’t go away.
Once they are said they are here to stay.
And silence is excruciating.
But being in a crowd of violent stares,
Is no better.
So where do you go?
Is the question you’ll never know.
But don’t give up just yet!
Things will not always be like this.
Yes, today seems hopeless.
Tomorrow seems worse.
One more day of hearing another hateful word.
Might make your head explode,
And sometimes you want to drive yourself completely off the road.
You have to know pain to....Sometimes you have to fall apart.
You have to bleed out,
In order to have the courage to shout.
Against the darkness.
You have to know what it's like,
To feel disconnected,
To be best friends with your anxiety,
Because it's the only thing to keep you company.
Because you've never felt so lonely.
Even though you're surrounded in a sea of noise,
Which drowns out your voice.
As you choke,
On society's noose
You're afraid to cut it loose.
Because you don't know what others will think of you.
You have to know depression.
You have to know what it's like to be alone.
You have to know what it's like to be silenced.
In order to appreciate breathing,
And to fall in love with colors.
After being blind,
For all of that time.
And only being able to see memories,
In order to appreciate a person's presence.
And the feeling,
When you finally find a friend.
Who will stick with you until the end.
And not judge you for your scars.
But loves who you are.