water

ice melting onto concrete
tears scouring for fingers
to wipe them away if they’d ever come
i don’t smile all the time
but i never cry

river searching for ocean
stars exploding in silence
when i die no one will hear my last breath
echoing in the cave of rotting corpses which is my body
all i have is dead loves festering within me

beauty is subjective
and so is love

i wonder if i’ll be remembered
like i remembered all of you

ice melting onto concrete
water searching for soil to be reborn again
that is all i am
a dead flower wedged in between graves

a love letter that will never be sent

I felt you in the center of my light. You were neurons at the tip of my tongue, electricity crawling beneath epidermis. I felt you everyday. I still do. Lightning you are jolting through rubble, filth, all we’ve amounted to. You’re the dust of rain clouds that rebuilds my soil. Stardust. When I’m ravaged, dying in the arms of loveless men I think of who you once were.

laughter in old levis

I left my morals tucked in between the pages of the bible my grandmother gave to me this morning. I do that every day actually, I can’t help it. I don’t do it purposely, it just sort of happens. Every day before I get dressed I count the sweat stains on my t-shirt from the drops of sweat swollen with lust that edged down my back while he handled me. Then I count all the holes he punched into my heart too and try to figure out why he stuffs them with lies as if that’s suffice.

He hides around the corner from my bedroom every time he leaves to see if I’ll come out after him, I do, always. I am attached, I am stuck, I am pieces glued together in the shape of a woman, that is all I have ever been.

“Hold me… Tell me sweet things…” I say, caressing his beautiful, dark, brown face.

“Dude” he says. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know the difference between fantasy and reality? That’s what a boyfriend would do, and I am not your boyfriend.”

His facial expressions are pained; he is annoyed, confused, and mostly burdened. He wants to leave; I tend to give him sufficient reasons to want to. I want to be honest and tell him, yes, I live in a fantasy world, always, but I don’t, I just laugh. All I can do is laugh at myself. I am a joke, that is all I have ever been.

thirsty fingers

i figure my body is a pyramid of vowels
searching for a voice
or a pen
or a tablet
or a microphone
or a stage
or a man
to project it's pain onto

i climb atop the laps of men
press my lips against thick skin
trying to capture resilience on the cusps of their lips
i want to be hardened
but i am just soft
putty melting onto concrete
burning beneath sun

i want to write tragedies onto his tongue
stuff my internal conflicts down his throat
rid myself of myself
just remember me when i am gone
that is all i demand

tuck my ashes in between the pages of my dairies
burn them in a pit
send him the remains

i don't want to be forgotten

all i have is syllables
and words
and feelings
and notebooks
and incomplete thoughts
and a bloody heart
and tired fingers
and a thirsty soul

can i curl up and live inside of you forever?
that is the only place i've ever felt safe

if you'd like to find me you can look in the cracks of his skin
on his bottom lip
buried beneath silent thoughts and saliva
wedged in between his brain and skull
leaking out of his nose
bloody

to the boy on the other side of my pillow

i trip over my thoughts in silent places
you poke out of cracks in concrete illusions
air creeps beneath my nail beds
where you skin is

i want to find you in my sheets

but all i have is letters
and photos
and moans
and touches
and deteriorating thoughts
and your tongue tied in a knot
neatly stuffed into my heart
and in less innocent spaces

one night was enough
to strangle me with feelings

thank you for making me feel once more
however good
however bad
i am numb no longer
sensous rapture
blossoms within me

thank
you

a ghetto girl's questions (12/30)

Does thugs mansion have room for ghetto girls too
With thick lips
Thick hips
And even thicker skin
With shotgun tongues laced with arsine

We are taught to retaliate
Like hardened soldiers
But all we want to do is love our soldiers
And teach them how to love us back

We are told that we are venomous like snakes
That girl is poison
BBD
But really we are only angels slithering about concrete
Trying to find cracks to curl up in
Trying to find cracks to plant roots in
We don't want our seeds to
Die

I don't want to die like this

Homicide
Suicide
Genocide
They are all the same

When I die can I go to thugs mansion too?

there's a man in my pants (11/30)

you are everywhere

beneath my fingernails
in the hairs of my eyebrows
but mostly on the thin flesh behind my knees
you liked to kiss that spot
but someone would most likely find you in my jeans
searching for something i guess you never found
because you left me

your tongue is sewed onto
the
low
part
of
my
back
where noone is supposed to see
i let you see it
now it's not a secret
i have no more secrets
you took them all
and stuffed them into the backpocket of your levis


alone
you left me
zipping your pants
you didn't even hold my hand
tugging at denim
i tried to get them up my thighs
you left me
i tried to catch up with you
i tripped over my untied shoelaces
i wore nikes that day
i never wear sneakers
i couldn't find my panties
i left my heart in your sheets
and my tears on your pillow
are they still there?

you left me

you saw me crying
i'm always crying
i wonder if you'll always be there
in the rims of my eyelids
or in the zipper of my cut-off shorts
the ones you liked to slip your fingers beneath
you told me i was warm

you lied
i am cold