Untitled

This is a 2 a.m. piece,

and as my words wash in the bath

of a late night, muted 

sitcom,

I know somewhere you are

restlessly sleeping.

I wish I could be there with you;

always.

Writing As of Recently

Revisions

we made love to the falling bombs.

i swear the television has never been so beautiful

as when splashed against your features.

and among the destruction your body fits mine

and i say please don't let this moment falter

and you say what's left of this world

is ours for the keeping.

I Blame Eric Schlosser

the wind is blowing hard,
carrying the smell of McDonalds.
I smile
and take a bite out of the air;
hypothetical fries don't taste as good
as I had hoped.

March

"I know you're sitting in a sun spot..."

Yellow is his favorite color:

his sweatshirt vibrated

as brightly as the sun,

absorbing his feverish scribbling.

And now I see that the

sensation of warmth

and of life

and of spring

has bloomed a

timid,

vivid,

burst of color:

a daisy,

from the beams escaping

his luminescent attire.

"...and that makes you happy."

Rough Draft

Today his body performed a miracle. He awoke. Simple miracles are often overlooked and so was he in a cluster of empty shells; flesh, bone, and clothe hiding absoultely everything.

Can you tell me what he saw when he decided that breathing wasn't a necessity? Can you tell me what appeared from his murky view of the tiles on his ceiling that told him bath time was over and life was for living?

Today his body performed a miracle:

He awoke, with a smile.

That Was a Lie

I cut off my hand last night

to see if I could still feel

because by hand

I mean tongue

to see if the world

still tastes so sweet.

A Few Blurbs

These Things Take Forever

Sometimes he can't escape the dreams. He buries his head in a pillow even when awake to make them go away. 10...9...8 (Are they still thriving? Why can I still smell the burning rubber?) ...7...6...5 (She's screaming, she's still screaming, am I awake?) ...4...3 (The sirens just crested over the hill. They're here for us darling, don't be afraid) ...2...1. Remove your face from that cushion and realize your warm on my sofa. Realize that in my arms lays the shards of glass which severed your grasp on reality. Realize that I don't mean to impose that memory on you; its just something I carry in the folds of my hands.

Glad I Didn't Die Before I Met You

The paint on the ceiling is eternally drying. Can you taste the fumes in your lungs as you deeply inhale the scent of our youth? Its snowing outside and as the flakes absorb into my skin I find myself yearning for warmth, not only of body but of mind. I want to sleep along the curve of your spine.

I Guess I'm Just Going Home

I believe I come from the sky and as I sprawl myself across asphalt and pavement and earth at night I swear I can trace the lines in my hands to the constellations. I believe sometimes I can grasp the earth within my palms and lead it around its path, around the sun, a star, and in every flare I see my reflection.

Found Somewhere Between the Splits in Your Sheets

I can see myself within your bones
sinking below your flesh
and following the current to your heart.

I can see my hands
delicately dancing
down the curve of your spine
and releasing my grip on your lungs
with each inhale.

I can see myself floating
the delicate rivers of your cheeks;
you are crying again,
and I swear in the oceans
that grew in my palms
as I cradled your uncertainty
there thrived a world
so complex,

I saw fish swimming through
the pupils of your eyes.

Deserving Of a Title Longer Than Itself

I know a boy who is afraid to feel,

because feeling means pain,

and pain is something he is far too accustomed to.

I know a girl who has an obcession with car accidents

ever since she found herself with a front row seat to

the destruction of her viciously grinning chariot.

And I know a boy who tries his hardest to forget

that shotgun had his name etched

and his tombstone was on the cutting slab.

I know a girl who can't support herself with her bad leg,

but knows he can catch her with his weak hand.

I know a girl who pretends to be strong,

but, Sweetie, strength is something a little less obtainable.

I Have a Tendency To Empty My Mind

Freshmen have a tendency to stare.
I can’t blame them really,
If I saw a girl in a wheel chair
I’d probably stare too.

With Inspiration From a Boy I Know

I am a girl who

does not adore the color pink,

nor do heels particularly excite me.

I know a boy who likes 'chick flicks'

quite nearly as much as I enjoy

my

bloody,

gorey,

slasher movies

with nine foot tall men chasing

five foot tall beauty queens;

and since when are woman

incapable of being a

serial killer anyway?

And since when are boys

looked down on for wanting to feel?

Because where I was raised

it didn't matter what you were

as long as you are

something worth being.