|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
.it's an animal.
this anger that burns right up my spine
devouring its tender path until ash remains
just dust from my bones and
used up memories.
i fold it up inside the creases
of my body but it has claws
that stretch through my skin
threaten my mouth with mutiny
and i bite down on blood.
AlmostWhen they lowered that box with electric gears
there was no one around to weep and
struggle to breathe,
there was just empty air cutting between stones.
The snow came and I held my breath to fight the impulses
kick at the boxes and make figure drawings out of pixels;
I have to be careful not to list my dreams because
someone likes to go down with black marker and strike them off
one by one.
This time next year I’ll be different.
Were you lonely? With the trees still naked and
the grass stained yellow,
a pile of dirt and a back hoe,
a line of cars driving off.
There are things moving in my heart
and I shove most of them to the side
because I can’t love and
I can’t pick up these pieces-
I’ll make a promise for you.
tastes like ash
because all that snow-globe-glitter
loses its shine with
the extinguish of hope
maybe the scratch of fake glass
will be enough to rekindle
this falling out
or just smudge away
all the forgotten little pieces.
with cold hands you tie the laces
of the old shoes that squeeze your fat feet
and you pretend not to notice that
your toes are folded up and your ankles
are in danger of snapping
instead you watch the way the
faded fabric regards your blotchy skin
and memorize the feeling of
sticky dust between your fingers.
you used to watch yourself do acrobatic tricks in the mirror
but you don’t bend that way anymore.
thunderhe ran again
that slick july heat
burning at the back of his
hands gripped tight
on the steering wheel
((he’d hate the cliche and
i’d tell him his g-d is dead
because he believes in himself
too much and he’d laugh and
say we’re even))
when the gas runs out
he’ll pull his shoe laces
tight and run to the next
stop in his life
somewhere we can’t
ever find him or send the
text message envelopes full
of our blessings and love
((he’d say what is love and
i’d start crying and he’d grin))
FoolLet me go like
leaking out of
just a fuzzy
back our chiding
talks and wander
waiting for bright
things to dull
you're like a
So if the
I'll press away
cut for your
ask for that
Tree GirlIntrinsically I know
that the ache in
my bones will pass
so statue I stand
and become the
next tree girl.
But the birds
fall at heart beats
and broken nests
or scrambled eggs
there's too much
guilt to consume.
You cough and I
hold my breath
a scattered dance
to the wind
the rest and
pushed all the
dreams to the
You want me
to be the next
bloom but I'm
And rot sets in so fast.
All Their TalkingThey say that living is breathing but
I have evidence to the contrary
because this distilled air holds
none of the magic of falling towards
love or an abyss the depth of oceans.
If you catch the light in a bottle then
maybe you’ve found something of
living but there’s still the secret of
a beating heart and a whirring brain
to promise collapse and incline.
To say that living is breathing is
to discount all the late nights and
heady mornings that steal all
your breath away.
Don't Say ItMarch sprang to kill
and it managed death
April tried the same
but some people
aren't ready to cut
Already the snow's
gone and the taste
of fresh air leaves
to be desired.
And when it smells
like forgotten things
and ghosts are
filling the sink with
dishes you can't
do much but find
some way to
So run like there's
a fire licking your
And maybe there is.
But the blisters make
you think of childhood
swing sets and metal
slides and the slick
heat of sweaty knees.
Still there's room at the
Inn and they'll take the
cocain cash that tastes
like pixy dust so watch
their sticky fingers and
May likes to dress in
slips and slide guns
to temples like a
I. if i can make my fingers meet
my wrists then who’s to say
that my teeth won’t one
day touch the sky.
I swore on painted nails and sidewalk chalk that
the distance between your mouth and my ear was
too far to constitute a secret. So I let your guts spill
out my hands and wrapped our trust around your
neck content to watch this insipid frindship vaporize
with the condensation of your last breath.
Yet as a ghost you haunt the corners of my house
lingering between the pages of my book and where
the back of the stove meets the wall. I tried to feed you
peanuts, but you’re no circus animal.
If you were I’d peg a tranqualizer in your leg and
drag a knife across your pulse so that another
of my ghosts could go home.
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
now i see the stars.there was a time when i
couldn't catch my breath whenever i
thought about you , (crippled lungs and-
boy, you hit me like an asteroid,
there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,
oceans of my tears cried on
nights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.
thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,
i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,
for a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,
weighted to the ground and
buried in myself, but
where there is no light there are no shadows, and
sometimes, i wonder if i miss me.
yes, yes i do.
i may not see the moon, but
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
i am made of nights like theseativan boy, you cannot empty out this skull -
not with a pen nor with a bullet. you can
be my hallowed head(case) for spitting out
words like teeth; oh, but i will only love you
when you're weary. i will keep crows caged
between your lungs like veins, like palpitations.
i will rot you through bones & car radios,
but i will never get (you) out of your skin.
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
Something Coldthe buses pass by
like animals in the night time light
they look hungry and so i hurry
my steps and like skipping
records or rocks
they put me past my pace.
running is like falling is like
grazing past an old ghost
what i really mean is
a burnt out flame.
it’s getting used up
by the little birds
and the flying swallows all laugh
as i tuck my hair beneath
the belt that works so hard
to hold me together.
the smell of glue is addictive
an adhesive that catches
at every synaptic nerve
ending in your brain
where the fear likes to live.
lay low and wait
for ankles and the itch
Keep in Touch!