Do I?
Do I not?
Do I?
Do I not?
Do I?
I won't......

Not yet.

Cut me open, cover yourself in a blanket of skin.
It won't make I difference. I don't inhabit it anyway.
It is a shell.
It is a lifeless thing.
It is not me. It makes no decisions.

Split the differences in your own mind and do anything you wish.
Take away every doubt.
Leave it on the edge of a cliff. The rain will wash it down our throats.
A spoonful of sugar.
It is laced. Silk laces, pretty underthings ruined.
They were taken off.
Too many flowers to water with the fluids running from open wounds.

They will not grow. They are made of the plastic from leftover
Glass from a broken window. Portal to the soul
My eyes are not there anymore. Blindly
Stuttering, I cannot speak.
These arms lack bones.
They were buried long ago, burned to blackened
Charcoal. Draw a masterpiece, dear.

Stab my physical canvas with toothpicks and see visions.
Crystal trees growing from my ears, reaching into your voice box.
Sing for me.

Make me dance over the salt, gives me rashes on my legs, blue flame licking what is yours.
Turn the key in my bleeding back. Twist my spine and laugh, watch as I writhe in
Lust?

How am I supposed to know. My brain is nonexistent, just gears and crushed light bulbs.
There is no light.
I took a step two nights past, I didn't see.

A tusk ****** through my foot, breaking bones.
I admire the animals caged at the zoo. They were stronger than I was, before they were
Eliminated. They are dying, wilting.
I drew flowers on my nails to represent them. A memorial to the horrid truth of knowing about the robotics of life.
This is just a computer, ringing a high. No going backwards. The button doesn't work, the transformer blew, we have no power.

My data was deleted.

Feeling fine
I am a paper cup full of ice
An inter-dimensional (being)
Laughing
And
Agreeing
Take off your disguise,
Beautiful
Let me see those pearly-eyes
Ruby lips
Diamond cheek bones
May I kiss?
May I sit?
Good to see you
Great to be here
Can I pour you some tea?
Two cubes of sugar
A tad of cream
A little rat poison
To help you dream
Half-closed eyes
And leaning
Gossamer dreaming
As you play piano
For no reason at all
You play with the treble
Line to line
Perfect pretty rhytm
Dancing in time
The melody of your thin dress
And the shape it reveals
Limbs and weeds
The music swells
A dash of lust
Your summer smell
A fragrant perfume
The jump of eyes
Northward
Eastward
Westward
Skys
The spark of  fingers
A flash electric blue
The kitchen light
Is dripping on you
The teeth of your smile
The color of white
*No my love
I cannot stay
With summer here
It's time to play
If your mother says you can't come out
I'll stand outside
I'll scream
I'll shout
Over radios
And t.v screens
Shooting cap pistols
At everything
Because last night I had a dream
You called on the phone
I heard your  whisper
Infinite dial tone
On the reciever
Lie dreamer

isn't it weird how people attach beauty to certain objects
or certain things, or certain places

all I'm saying is
the sound of falling rain
doesn't knock the breath out of my chest
the way your fingernails do

he's so unsure
in the most self assured way

he has eyes like the sea
before a storm
a combination of
       blue                          
   and                  
green        
so remarkable
that you want nothing but
to have them look
into yours
the very same way

and his laugh is
a sound that should be
boxed up
and put away
to be accessed at a
moments notice
to be cherished
--always
every single time it
stumbles out
of his diaphragm

his face is
familiar
in the way of a childhood comfort
that you never want
to un-see

a mix of joy and nostalgia
that you want to relive
everyday

he has a way about him
like
he could break at
one crooked word
yet
he's strong enough
to carry
the whole world around
on his shoulders

he's unerasable
but you wouldn't
even want to erase him
if you had the chance
--he's perfect

he'd carry around all your burdens with you
and bottle up your laughs
and document every three A.M. conversation

you constantly just want to
be with him
because that's where you're okay

and you want to tell him
you want him
to know
but
he probably wouldn't want that
and in all likelihood
he would disappear
and that
would be like
trying to breathe
           under            
                    water  



- l. m.

i have found myself while dancing,
grinding against walls scribbled with
martinis and broken ideas.
i have seen myself through others,
the girl who wobbles through neon colors,
the girl who shakes until sweat paints a fresh new coat.
i have heard my gospel,
through the thunderous speakers,
the screams of people who want a warm bed.
i have lost myself while dancing,
falling to absent galaxies,
trying to find a light to guide me home.
relying on the touch of unknown men,
to **** this star wallowing deep inside of me.
i do not know who i am
when i am dancing.
i want to think i am the milky way,
or a black hole,
gasping everything entirely.

If you were going to **** yourself,
how would you go about it?
Lately I've been analyzing it
more than what I usually did,
I thought those thoughts were dead,
but they aren't, they simply left
for a bit of time, call it vacation,
and are back ready to mess around.
So many of the writers I admire
went through with it, suicide,
perhaps we share the same nature.
Someone once told me that suicide
was for cowards, I shook my head
and told him: No.
Do you hold the courage to end
your own life? On the contrary,
suicide is bravery to an extreme.
I'm not brave enough yet,
it's not death I fear,
it's the unknown
of what's to come
after the act's been done.
When you think about things
you notice our
insignificance.
Forgive me for saying so
but I'll probably go out with a bang.