Tuesday, May 4, 2010

a poem paints one thousand pictures:

swollen fingers, eraser snakes,
sewing needles in my spine.
neon signs say i'm going nowhere,
everytime you sing you save my life.

bright white smiles with malicious intent,
leaving home in little girl's shoes,
scared of a touch, of a smirk, of a scent
i'm ripping off eyelashes in my sleep.

i lay down still, and i listen to
the vibrations in the earth,
the vibrations in my veins
figure eights like a hummingbird's wings
infinity, and so on, and so it goes.

small hearts drawn on skyscrapers,
invisible to sheep
we'd be living under a ferris wheel
until the earth
us free.

death should be far away from you
attatched to the skin of the earth
but doomsday's breathing down your neck
and you're floating, and i'm cursed.

are all
with death.

peeling the skin off my eyelids
peeling the paint off the walls
lusterdust and moonlight legs
we're infinity, and so on, so it goes.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

new english

"everyone around you is going through a transformation."
something is wrong with the universe tonight.

apathy, anonymity, hair dye, tough life
notes in in new english/free thinker, you're foolish
masks in makeup, hearts in your hands
empty ink lovers/ open wasteland.

exhaling the atmosphere
watching it rain from the floor
run away from this house and
i'm juvenile

you have the worst morals i've ever seen
if you can even call them that

can't be that deep
you don't know everything
not with this new english you speak/
your vices embarrass me

smoking cigarrettes
under the banner of heaven
my whole life is satire
where is my transformation?

Sunday, April 4, 2010

"There's a ghost in my lungs and it talks in my sleep."

exhibit a.
what are you supposed to do when you realize how small you are?
when i write down my dreams, they'll include a map of the world.
we love to know that we are not alone.
we read to know that we are not alone.
we fuck to know that we are not alone.

exhibit b.
when you say that you're bleeding on the inside, what do you think it means?
that you're hurt?
everybody's bloody on the inside.
all your heart does is bleed from the moment you were born.

exhibit c.

exhibit d.
where is my mind?

Monday, March 22, 2010

you are mistaken, my friend: you are indeed a king.

"see, it's people like you that make me believe in real love.
you get shit and shit and shit and shit and here you are,
lovin' again,
resilient as hell.
everytime i see that smile, i feel like a king just for knowing you.
you've been beaten, but you're not broke.
i see no pain in that smile of yours and i believe you,
i can't believe the shit you've gotten through but when you say that you're happy i believe it.
no one can really believe anything they're told,
but man oh man,
i could love you."

you told me this sitting on a beach so late at night that it was early,
but i admire you as a person in every way a person could be admired.
i think you might know this but i would never say it out loud.

i lost my journal so i'm posting fragments

 thank you for every time you ever fell in love.
it changed everything.

try me at two in the morning and maybe i'll do better
you know, only one person ever reads this blog.
i can't decide if i'd like to know who you are.

Saturday, March 13, 2010


honor among thieves is thicker than blood
that drips on her as she sleeps like she's in a coffin.

we're falling asleep at eight in the morning
i'll kiss every one of your ribs then i'll break them.

Sunday, March 7, 2010


1. I've been sitting on my back porch watching the rain for an hour,
    red tea sweeter than any perfume.
    There are others home, but they're not listening,
    not looking up, not watching me.
    Glued to their screens like i'm glued to the sky,
    the clouds, rather, and i hear thunder.
    It takes me a very long time to realize i'm cold.

2. The windows behind me are dark but for the grayday light
    and the dim lights in the kitchen,
    where the dog sleeps on the wooden floor.
    Sometimes i want to live where it rains all day,
    where i can see nothing but trees, and the air is clean.
    but that's not where i am.
    The rain has let up and i go sit in my kitchen, alone and i write.