To my lover, that she might escapeI've held you here, close in-betweenmy knuckles, so bruised with mutemutiny, they beat at the thighs and the ribs of mewe can pretend that we're lovers, notdrowning together to gatherlove scraped from under nailsor concrete halls, frompainted walls beneathhigh-way-gray ships of the sea,that are skies that are meant to beburning with passion and puritybut wreck the horizon with infantile agonyand sails to the endless, oh, anywhere at allI'm sorry, this placewill get the best of us yet
Beach Poemthe sunthe silver crowsmy hearta pair of ragged clawsthe wavesthe dunesdesire
On forgettingThe worst part isthe books that are unwritten as you speakthe letters writhe themselves off paperfly off like carrion birds,drown themselves in inkwellsAnd our conversations fadeinto meaningless noisethe syllables force themselvesdown your throatand mineand have no longer been spokenstaticI am forcing your bodyinto air, a ghostseen in some crowd
A meditationi will reachlike a breatha body
Letter to a former loverI wrote you lettersof these hollow woods,perhaps your tongue was tiedor planing out your teeth with supple motionlicking forth a better smilea brighter future, at leastyou never answered or gave wordthat you had seen the fog ridingfrom beneath the trees on grey stallionsor that the woods themselves wereleaning out and giving way andturning grey, mist breedinghollow spines on brittle branches.
On farewellsIt is not that your handsare not here to be held, but thatthey are pointing over hills I cannot crossto seas that are salt with excitementjust asthe trees do not grieve the passing of the leaves,except that they are over the horizon.
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?"
We Only Live To DieThis is what we live for—these whispers on our lipsThe drying bits of blood on our paper-cut fingertipsOpening the letters that we left our future selvesA bittersweet reminder of those storybooks on the shelvesThis is what we live for – this emotion in our soulsThe torture and the bittersweet moments of lost controlBiting cracked lips with the dirt beneath our nailsThese moments of imperfection as our trains of thought derailThis is what we live for – shutting doors and opening eyesSmiling for a moment, before the tears reveal our liesThis is what we live for, this reality, this life…This is what we live for,As we only liveTo die.
Past Tense BluesWasesAre painful,So are weres;And it's the becausesThat make them feelThat much worse.
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-believing shecould only hurtanyone who gottoo close,forgetting thatinside,she held whatpeople neededmost.
Bully You're ugly.You're stupid.You'll never amount to anything.No one will ever like you.If you think he'll stay, you're mistaken.You have no friends.People hate you.You are a freak.You have no place here.You are nothing more than a coward whois too afraid to step outside half the time.Your face is like something from a horror movie.No one will ever truly fall in love with you.Guys want girls that are beautiful and face it,you are considered everything but that.Hide behind your hair dye because you want tofeign like you don't care.But inside the cruel eyes of others burn holes intoyour soul.You will never amount to anything.The only thing you will ever be good foris cleaning up dog shit.You will never be good enough.Why bother even dreaming?How can you consider the possibility of lovewhen everything you do, the way you look, walk,talk, move, think, can only ever be seen asugly.Not only is the outside hideous;the inside is no better.Why do you think you've
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.And crash.Bu
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 souland if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybarsin this old and rusted parkyou 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 youif 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 youand 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 lifeor what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
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,Separated.From reality.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 nooseYou'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,On rewind.In order to appreciate a person's presence.And the feeling,Of content.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.In
poemI wish you were easyeasy to forgetor to lend a handI wish your eyes had not pierced me(like x-rays)like x-rays, yes, and tumorousis what this love is, draining mecancerously into poetry