I see wings that sprout from shoulders,
I see shiny slimy scales,
I see halos hanging over heads
and scary monsters' tails.
I see shining lights and radiance
and evil demon claws,
but in the end I see both good and evil
in us all.
SgraffitoHot breath hugging the curve of the golden apple...
I wouldn't hesitate to bite.
And that's the most I would do...
My skin can be this delicious.
A marinade flowing between us, a bridge of savor.
Our breaths a seesaw,
a rocking horse,
the layer of purity beneath innocence
chipped away in the heat.
Call me!Call me back, like you always do,
you never hesitate to give me a ring.
Make me dance and make me laugh,
and you can even try to make me sing.
You're always high above my head,
secretly giving me everything,
so call me back like you always do,
call me back with those puppet strings.
Like a candle, that old handle
sends a mighty fire to me.
When I feel your hand, I understand
the reasons why we're meant to be.
We move together, I don't know whether
or not you're feeling the same thing,
but one thing's for sure, that there's nothing more
than what I've got, nothing in being free.
You've got to call me back, like you always do,
no matter how many splinters you get.
Don't just leave me, please retrieve me
if you ever happen to forget.
I might be over thinking it all,
because nothing wrong has happened yet.
But call me back, like you always do,
just please, please call me back.
Past MidnightFate brings us closer together once more,
as if the story will never be done,
but we've already learned and we've already grown
so I feel like I've already won.
How much more can I change, and what more do I need
is there reason to this anymore?
Or is happiness all that remains of our fate
until the end I've been waiting for?
A Little to the Left(singsongy)
That intimate position will negate any admission you would need to speak with me..
I'm always open for a chat with you, in fact I'd rather that you do proceed...
We don't even need a topic, since I know you're not myopic and we have such chemistry...
Just promise that we'll speak again, or my life will become bleak again, you see~
Sweet StingerThe honey flowing from your lips
cascading like a golden curtain of sweet silk
did not reach my tongue, but instead my lungs
as I breathed in the taste, the warmth,
the smooth essence of your words
which I savor in my own.
The pure emotion in your eyes
lured me to your hive
surrounding me with the comfort
that I was idly searching for.
I was addicted to the taste I hadn't even tasted,
but I heard it, I saw it, I smelled it, I felt it,
I breathed it, I lived it, I loved it, I kept it.
A Note to VisitorsAn oasis in a stone palace,
my heart is a waterfall of life,
a burst of lush elation
buried in ancient walls and pillars
clutching onto one another-
twisting mazes of cold,
that fear the wandering touches of tourists.
(my heart is
a breath of life in a tomb,
a treasure to be found
but not taken,
not even in pictures
because the flash can be damaging!)
headless horsesYou force my head down like you're booking me
got me boiling and drowning like you're cooking me
when you look towards the ground, you think you look at me
but I'm still around without what you took from me.
You do what you do cause you're afraid of change
we are stallions who don't need you holding reins
and if only you knew that we share the same pain,
yes, it's true, believe it or not we are the same.
LemonadeThe sweetness of this lemonade,
so smooth just like a serenade,
as soft as gently falling snow,
as light as the sun's morning glow.
The perfect punch- so bittersweet!
The flavor sweeps me off my feet.
A rhythm sparks from just one taste~
Lemons will destroy the human race~
Shadow in a sunny worldI don't want to hate...
I don't want to always turn away from you;
smiling or sullen,
in my presence you afflict me...
I know I can't go back,
I can't forgive you for the way you've been.
Trying to gain my affection
has only hurt me even more.
The damage is already done,
and every day I have to feel this pain.
Any respect I had for you is gone,
and now I just try to stay away.
ElenaElena followed me home
from work one night
and stayed for tea and eggs,
and all that minimum wage
and wars between the sheets
She said she was a goddess,
daughter of a carpenter
with her long red, red hair
and eyes as warm as hazel nuts
on Christmas morning.
Her hands spoke braille
across my back
and made the silence
of Sunday into a prophecy.
She left one October
just like she said she would
when the fireflies
had turned their wings to ash.
And I found revelation
in red, red wine
and cheap red, red fabric
that came off in my hands
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desks
i don't think they liked the language i used
when i wrote how my heart was beating
like headboards against the walls of people fucking
at 3 am to the sounds of joy division
whenever you read me paintings at dawn.
they were going to send me to the counselor,
but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,
so they just let me go.
but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,
i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roof
and laughing when we argue about rimbaud
and sighing as we start to die.
WineHead on a patisserie table
with a wine-scented napkin
that I scrawled your name all over
in the hopes it might necromance
or just romance you
to this place, at this time,
so we could be together again
and although the guitarist knows
that I'm broken beyond blue
I keep reaching for the bottle
in the hopes it might recreate
or just replicate
I'm too poor to feel so middle class.My teeth still ache from the dentist,
but it doesn’t stop me from nibbling
the cheese danish I bought at Kroger
this morning, warmed by thirty
seconds in the microwave. My mug
of hot chocolate is too big, and I
drink it all. The washer is on its last
cycle; the cat is purring at my feet.
Netflix is background noise
to clacking keys, typing a transcript
of middle class morning that I’ll later
call a poem or a turning point,
wondering when I became such an adult.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echo
of a cloudburst,
the earth curls invisible fingers
about my achilles' tendon
she cries that i am not
intended for the clouds,
that my mind must not wander
between their susurrous concaves
furious with her insistence,
untether myself from the soft,
diaphonous comfort of the heavens
down into the weight of gravity.
listless green blades welcome my soles,
stimulating a tickle,
a sneeze; i never have done well
she is calling for me,
soft-tongued and crisp in her
& i am sorely tempted
i am not for the soil.
she becomes my inhale;
my alveoli shudder
beneath her force--
i am not for the air, either.
i stand beneath her onslaught
until she tires,
her molten heart beating beneath my toes;
unable to woo me with her facets,
cloaking me in one last attempt,
a final shadow.
my pores bloom
& i r
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,
or to have myself cradled
in the curve of a throat,
but to be broken,
to be diminished
by your lack of affection
& over indulgence of sexualization.
uneducated in your intent,
found myself left entirely whole
& incapable of the fury
i had sought to sow between the
ridges of my aching ribs.
she suffers melancholy like the plagueshe cannot raise her voice to reach
the notes that she adores
without the ocean escaping from her eyes,
and she cannot kneel in prayer
to the god that she tries to love
without copper staining the pavement,
but she can scream into a room and not be heard,
and she can deprive her stomach and not be seen--
these are not the type of talents to be appreciated,
to be loved without condition,
and so nobody does.