the days won’t slow
the nights won’t drag
they move too quickly
it’s all too fast

i’ve always hated august
her grip
on my arm
her drinks
in my bar
her laughs
so far
away
but i hear them
echoing off the walls
of the barn
in this particular
part
of the season.
it’s starting to
feel like treason.
i give so much love
lying in
summer’s arms
i hold her like
a three million
dollar diamond ring
and i give her everything.
she leaves me broken
and shattered
likewise the mad hatter
and i collect her
fragments like a good
little child.
a good little
disciplined child.
she discards the wild
in me,
although i
keep
her summer breeze
alive.

i’ve always hated august
the anticipation that
comes along with her
heated embrace
her clammy hands
on my face
she wants to be
a motherly figure
to take my mother’s
place, but she’s
just too forceful
not merciful
enough.
i want a refund
for all the
money i spent for
her
to keep loving
me,
but she lets me go
like i’m some
contagious cold
that only wants to
keep you close
so
it can give you
the most sniffles.

i’ve always hated august
her savage remarks
how she gets so dark
when i just want to
feel her presence
at eight o’clock.
she’s always busy
getting wasted,
her neglecting
so shameless,
she shoos me away
like a poor peasant
begging
at her feet.
the actions she
never apologizes
for,
she adores seeing
her
tanning children
suffer,
cry their brains open
since they have
no hope
and
no happiness.

i’ve always hated august
cause it always
seems
like she hates
me.
i wish we had
a better relationship
but she’s always made
my life a living
shipwreck,
again, i am beached.

it was panic, it was silence, it was machine gunfire ringing in the insides of my ears.
it was sheer destruction, it was pain, it was so much blood spilled in so many years.
the sky turned black, heavy droplets landed on top of my skull,
begging to wash away the manipulation, but they never could.
it was hurt, it was unapologetic, it was of malicious intent.
it was brutal, it was barbaric, it was all stored in the back of my head.
the fire burned ravenously, chewing bones, teeth, and leftover fragments of me,
charring parts of my flesh that bandages can’t cover up.
i tried to make it stop with my own two busted hands, but repairing doesn’t come overnight like closure.  
it lingers like a wildfire in the winds thousands of miles north,
and most of the time, the repair was in vain or couldn’t be held in a forest fire’s limp hand.
ashes settle, but you still smell the smoke.
it was twisted, it was calamitous, it took a piece of my remaining soul.
it was blinding, it was irrevocable, it was constantly taking a toll
even after the ‘sorry’s’ and ‘can i make it up to you’s?’
i still grew maggots all over my skin where they placed their bitter fingertips,
where they designed the monster embedded in me.
i breathe fire, i inhale smoke, i exhale ashes from my bleeding throat.
it was mistakes, it was casualties, it was shattered narratives and sovereignty.
it was vicious, it was surreptitious, it was trauma and warped realities.
suffering came like waves from the most caliginous seas.
i tried buying myself safety, eternity, and apologies,
but nothing ever seemed to work in my favor.
i have been trying for so long, for so many years, for so many lifetimes, for so many ages.
i hope it’s soon time for me to be laid to rest,
with no panic attacks, no strangers, and no reason to hurt anyone.
i was once the enemy of the world, but i don’t wanna be him anymore.

can’t remember the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
i miss when i didn’t know half of all the words that exist.
i regret ever ignoring my best friend.
i hate anxiety and the burden it makes me feel like i am.
i miss being able to look in the mirror and see someone worth while.
i miss being loved.
i miss being myself.
i miss everything.

i don’t care what she did
i don’t care what she does
she’s my friend, after all

my sister told me she’s full of red flags
she hasn’t texted me in over a month
she’s grounded, i’m guessing
(i’m low key glad we haven’t texted much)
(she can be kinda overwhelming)
i feel like a horrible friend for saying that

my brain hurts because she was always
so kind to me
she accepted me for doing nothing
i never had to prove myself when
she was around
yes, she may be problematic, but aren’t we all?

my sister told me to stop hanging out with her
and being friends with her
why would i break off a good friendship?
we’ve never done anything bad together

she tried running away with her boyfriend
his name is andrew and he’s much
older than her
in june, she told me he was good for her
and i was happy that she was happy
was i wrong for that?

now she’s reckless and crazy
(not that she was never before)
she’s only friends with ****
addicts and skateboarders
i’m the only exception
i’m the only normal stable (kinda) one

i hate getting confronted about my friends
i’m a good girl and i’m not a doormat
i know when things get sketchy
and when you should run away

i’m starting to rant, but i don’t
think it’s unhealthy  
who knows what will happen next
at least i get writing material out of this

(it’s just an innocent friendship)

i hear the
soft murmur of
distant firearms
loading and
reloading
backup called
i hear it from
inside my cozy
apartment walls

i dreamed in silhouettes
sold my heart for
a dozen dimes
the old women
on the street
kicking my joints
with their polished
high heels
pantyhose in
their wrinkly hands

i woke up when
the flood water
came in through
the windows
and broke
my slumber
and catapulted
me out of
my dreams

i remember
the news channel
buzzing with
kelly- or some
other generic
radio host name

her laughs
were loud and
evil and
had not even
a trace
of remorse

her pretty
face was reserved
for the microphone
poor gorgeous girl
it must be awful
to be stopped on
the street
because you’re so
incredibly attractive

they’ll tell you
a man doesn’t make
you a woman
but i’ve been the
**** of a joke
for never having
a boyfriend
to hold
what happened
to letting young
women be
independent?

some stuffed socks
down my throat
and told me
to inhale

i dreamed that
the bridge
in my small town
burned
to the ground
like the london one

i felt the heat
climb up
into the clouds
the atmosphere
coughing
while they
shopped at
the most luxurious
retail stores
in the
gigantic city

they poured
the children’s’ blood
down into
the gutters
of their
hampton estates
and they
just shrugged

she told me
my clothes
were too
poor-looking
i get that
you got a
brand new
toyota for
your sixteenth
birthday and
i’m pretty sure
you were driving
with your crush
or whatever
kind of
relationship you
have that i
couldn’t care
less about
it might have
been your “vicious”
parents car in
that instance

girls don’t
support girls
they stab them
and call them basic
i would know
cause i do
i’m awful
to my age
demographic

and the streets
are still littered
with rusty nails
and stale black
nail polish
with trash bags
no matter what
length your
haircut is

and the oceans
are still polluted
with makeup products
and coffee shop cups

and my heart
is still battered
and sore
from underneath
the sole of her
stilettos

letting go is
simple, yet
you still need
me to spell it
out for you

perhaps now
you know why
i was always
so good at spelling

i need to get some stuff off my chest
my cousin doesn’t like me anymore
i’m at a family gathering right now;
a birthday party
i love talking to my aunts and my grandma
they include me in conversations and
make me feel worth their while
maybe it’s a me problem
that i changed and i’m average
and painful to be around
it could most definitely be that
and i wish i could stop
obsessing over speaking
but quarantine ******* me over
and left me with repulsive social anxiety
someone’s laughing
and the shaven dog is barking
my ears can’t handle this
the dog hates me, she doesn’t
let me pet her and i just wish i had a
dog as a companion, but
my parents don’t want that responsibility
even though it would be all mine
i need a dog, i need a friend
who’s always present,
there for me
no one ever is
no one knows what gathers inside
my brain throughout the day
that forces me to write
or i would literally burst.
now my cousin said goodbye to her
favorite aunt and uncle
and her young cousins who
are perfectly skinny and basic
and **** perfect
i’m miserable now
it’s not like it used to be
her cousin looks like a model
where’s my glow up?
i just look so terribly ugly
that it hurts me so badly
even twelve year olds look like models
and they make me
so terrifically insecure
it’s infuriating
how unfair some things are
especially genetics and body dysmorphia
i need some boy who’ll soothe
this mental state i have
been swallowed up in
without my consent
my incompetent brain has never heard
the word ‘no’ before, apparently
i’m sick to my stomach
thinking about everything
and how everything used to be
and how everyone is changing
and how much i want to die
killing me would be doing me
a huge favor at this point
why do people always have
to make me insecure with their
toned bodies and gorgeous faces?
i am convinced that something
is eternally wrong with me
but i’ll stop making you
mad by saying i hate myself
cause now it’s basically redundant
but one last time 
for good measures
i hate myself
and i’ll never be an asset
to society
goodbye, the only thing that loves me for who i am is my writing

my cousin’s cousin has a boyfriend
she’s younger than i am.
i want love
but i’m not pretty enough
and it always seems like i’m not slim enough.
i’m not enough.
my poetry *****
it’s unoriginal, it’s bland, it’s not traditional.
it’s the only thing i like to do.
i’m not cool, i’m not popular
i barely have six friends.
it’s ok i guess
but my cousin’s cousin has a boyfriend
and i am so lonely.

knife marks on my deadbeat frame.
lingering emotions
but they aren’t as excruciating anymore.
wasteful injustice, crawling up my veins.
digging holes in my white blood cells.
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵.
jokes on me, sunrise isn’t rebirth.
it’s rubbing it in your face
that the world doesn’t stop turning
for you, it never stops.
you never get help,
no matter how many buttons you press
or how many hand waves you give.
𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠.

i trudged through frozen rivers
passed through red oceans
i bottled up my feelings and tossed them into the wrathful sea
fishing ships skimming through the vibrant bay
caught wind of my hopeless message floating meters away from where they cast their nets
tiny thoughts floating through levels of salty sea foam, devoured by the vicious waves
breaking, scattering and tossing seaweed into the briny air
“land **!” they bellowed, tying a thin rope to the side of the vessel
wonder if that truly makes a difference or that the boats just don’t really desire to depart
with unwashed fingers and hands, they ripped the bottle from the ocean’s greedy grasp
observing it with curiosity, they tapped on the glass of the object
the bottle cap popped open, revealing the suspicious contents
pouring it out onto the dock, they whispered when they saw the small yellowish letter lying flat; my letter
the captain read it to himself quietly and deemed it unnecessary to repeat to the rest of the crewmen
“perhaps, it is time to rest. the moon is almost at her peak.”
the captain uttered a couple words, for he was astonished such a hopeless thing could float ironically in the most teeming ecosystem to ever exist
my feelings were daggers, and not knowing where they originated from worried the captain

but everyone rises and falls
everyone lives and dies
everyone hopes and becomes hopeless
water carries secrets,
and in that, it holds stories

  -happy ever afters don’t exist in the ocean

i’ve spent years being mentally malnourished.
chasing sparks in the dark only to be burned.
on the edge of never knowing what i would do.
i asked myself where my mind was.
probably in a sinkhole buried deep in the earth.
i betray myself before i hurt anyone else.
my mind controls my body.
i’m so sorry…

isn’t it strange that we don’t name ourselves?
because if i had the choice, i would be named: the girl with wavy or curly hair that never belongs anywhere
or the girl who believes in God more than herself
the girl who fears rejection like it is Covid-19
the girl who wished upon a star, but is still waiting on her delivery
the girl who is senseless who knows nothing about anything
the girl whose best friend left her when she was thirteen
the girl who associates made up or distant people with safety and security
the girl who listens to too much music and it clouds her judgment
the girl who re-enacts movies after she sees them play onscreen
the girl who gets lost in Disney movies and doesn’t enjoy reality
the girl who died after eighth grade and is despising the high school experience
the girl who purposely curses herself on friday the thirteenth
the girl who lost her mind and has lost all her glory
eruption, disaster, ugly, failure, useless, dramatic, romantic, not even close to funny, unintelligent, boring, exhausting to be around, psychotic, waste of space, crazy
the girl who is anyone, but what my parents named me
the girl named…

i saw you with your chariot of horses in the sky, sparkling brighter than the cosmos
perpetual glory seeping out of your crystal eyes, beckoning the stars and the sun and the moon and the milky way
i was frozen on a cushy cloud, drifting on strong gusts of space matter
you kissed the universe and the black hole almost swallowed you whole
when you saw me, you lifted Heaven with your ******* and guided it towards me
the gates shimmered as i glided closer
your ravishing voice rang in my ears, it felt like angel choirs singing
you sculpted planets with the tiny blue powder inside my eyes and filled my heart with fragments of stardust
iridescent galaxies twinkled, enveloping my earthly body in sparkles
his chariot of stallions floated, leaving this part of the galaxy as a gift for my celestial self
he waved his heavenly hand and disappeared into the constellations
the solar system; undisturbed, goes back to how it was
a triumphant smile creeped onto my cheeks
he owns the cosmos and the galaxies and now he owns my heart

teach me how to drift in the wind
how to build homes out of charred wood
teach me how to dream
how to change stuck mindsets
teach me how to grow as wild and as old as the aged sycamore trees
how to paint stars in gloomy night skies
teach me how to capture saturn on film
how to be the best i possibly can
teach me to be unbothered like the ocean tide
how to make imaginary planets with the cellulite on my thighs
teach me how to love myself
how to love you as well
teach me all you know
the waves, the breeze, the undertow
teach me how to adore love
how to preserve nature
teach me how to be carefree like dolphins
how to roll in flower fields
and how to feel beautiful
teach me everything you know
everything

hey, you.
i don’t know who you are
or what you look like
or where you work.
actually, i don’t care.
you are enough.
  i am a hopeless romantic.
  i hope that doesn’t scare you.
  i just dream of starlit picnics.
  dates on tiny boats in swampy lakes.
  looking into eyes full of diamonds.
i don’t know how this kind of thing works.
i have never had a boyfriend before.
teach me the ropes.

  this letter is awful,
  but i can’t wait for you to come along.
  dear future boyfriend,
  i hope that you’re the one.

my old classmate had a written hit list
one of my teachers was in bold red lettering
i wish i had been on it

i feel like i don’t give the benefit of the doubt for the victims of my poems
they have their own sides of the stories
that they’ll never be able to tell

the moon has craters because those are the steps i envisioned taking before i was born
i was sent to earth instead

panic is the worst responder to stress, but it’s usually the first

hotels are small pieces of home i never got

i am afraid to drink a glass of alcohol
i don’t wanna lose control
besides my mother’s dad was a raging alcoholic and i don’t wanna be like him
his own sister says he’s unbelievably stupid
i don’t want my sister to call me a wreck so i won’t get drunk like other twenty year old kids

i didn’t learn to tie my shoes until the fourth grade because i wanted to ground myself
i ended up breaking an iPad when i learned
was it worth it?
i broke a screen, but earned a skill, cool
i was face-timing my best friend while playing basketball in a made-up hoop when i cracked that screen
the iPad is far gone now, so is she

had boughten lunch all throughout school because i always had to be different than other little children
(i didn’t chose to be)

my favorite artist is one who endured abuse by her boyfriends and possibly her mother
what does that say about me?

never been scouted out by polite boys or cute boys or any boys at all
a few liked me at my old school
but i haven’t seen them for years
and one of them called me ugly
reverse psychology?

always loved holding old fashioned phones to my ears to pretend to be more elegant than i actually am

recently, i have been scared of everything
journalism class, my two name alias at school,
junior year creeping up on me, myself
I JUST WANT TO BE SURE, DANG IT

imagining through the blue light on my screen
whispering profanities at my low life presenting personality
having had brunch with my cousin and my aunt pretending to be more of less of myself
it’s good to know they won’t know my full truth and personality and quirks since they wouldn’t come around anymore if they did
keeping secrets to secure family lines or at least the manifested faulty ties inside my mind
getting more comfortable with the fact that people shouldn’t have identities
never wanting people to know who i truly am or what i stand for

when we are younger we want everyone to be our friend and we don’t judge with cold steel eyes
we go up to the nearest person and we start playing with toys together
of course, i never did since i was the shyest kid ever, walking into kindergarten for the first time was traumatizing for me
kids don’t think about things such as slim waists or “too much” kinds of personalities
i don’t think i was aware of my identity till kids starting calling me ugly and saying they didn’t like me anymore
i came home crying, turning on the shower, knowing i wasn’t good enough for my peers
terrified for the first time in my life that i wouldn’t be accepted and i would be the bullied one on the outskirts
always wanting to be popular and liked was on my mind constantly, but at least i was being  
myself

nowadays, i hide away from people, knowing that when they speak to me i won’t be able to hold a conversation, knowing that they wouldn’t like the version of me that is embedded deep into my skin
my identity lies in my hands, manipulated to feel established, fiddled with to earn head nods

when i am older, in the partying age, someone might want to experiment touching my skin and creating divots where they placed their heavy fingers
might only wanna know what time i go to bed and purposely make me skip it, won’t wanna know what my favorite place to eat is after a long and strenuous cry, won’t wanna know why my identity is so secretive
won’t wanna know the flaws on my body that my mind has scrutinized for years upon years
just like harry styles said in fine line, “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.”
we are so body and pleasure focused, knowing anyone anymore is like finding a needle in a haystack

sometimes i can be afraid to meet new people because they might not like me or i might never show them my true colors although the latter is a me problem
i’ll make friends who won’t know my favorite band and memorize all their song lyrics like i did when the anxiety was pumping into my veins rapidly
i’ll make friends who will come and go and get buried and get taken advantage of and maybe i won’t know their backstory because they might have chosen to hide their identity one day just like i did

proving your place in this world is exhausting and having a couple friends sprinkled in every capital city is soul *******
it starts to make you feel like these people are only around so you can raise your social status in the midst of robotic people with plastic instead of skin because they always hated their flaws and no one ever said they were beautiful and that it was actually society that shoved botox into their faces
wrinkles aren’t ugly, they are aging factors
stress isn’t avoidable, you can’t pile wax in your face to make it all come to a close

we stop being innocent and thinking the world is pure in middle school, some even earlier
we realize santa doesn’t come down a chimney and give us gifts every year, it’s our literal parents
our parents sell and tell us lies and we believe them because naivety hovers inside our brains
no wonder adults always call kids stupid and inept, they sold us detrimental lies in the first place, telling us to believe in magic, saying that the easter bunny actually came around when we should be talking about Jesus, it’s literally His holiday, God forbid

identity sprouts from human beings desiring to put each other into tiny boxes
“evil, shady, kind, jerky, angsty.”
no wonder everyone’s so ******* up nowadays, they just wanted to be accepted into these tiny labels and they never did so instead they cut themselves and slit their throats
their guts might be considered to be conforming, so the jousters will leave you on your death bed alone, in silence, smiling in ghost form, so happy you made the decision to just cut the world off
some of us aren’t that devoted

i have had plenty of different identities in my life, but never once have i loved myself
even if their lyrics holler “self love” i won’t be able to relate to that
good for everyone who can, it’s just not me
look—right there, what is me?
who am i?
in this world, what should i be, what identity does society want (need) me to be represented by?
but
whoever i am, i hate her

your fists are like cannonballs
hard, closed
you trap me in the palm of your sweaty hands
crushing me
but the warmth is the only temperature i feel
so i stick by your disheartening side

what would you do with all the sand in the world?
if the tides disappeared, a dry land appeared
what would you do?
would you pile it on top of me to smother me?
would you put it over my head to taunt me?
or would you make it fall, ever so slightly around me, filling up my space with sandy fumes, glass trapping me inside?
would you give me a slow death, watch me suffer?
or would you pull me out after seeing me take the brunt of it?
what would you do with all the sand in the world, one may ask?
nothing, just leave it put

was she just a friend when you kissed her chapped lips?
was she just a friend before we called it quits?
did friends ever equate to the same definition of mine?
you could’ve told me so i didn’t have to waste my time.

am i inherently evil cause of my skin color?
do these blue eyes define evil in the shadow of brown eyes?
why must i feel ashamed for my pale skin?
i didn’t chose to be in this body.
didn’t chose to look this way.
half of the time i wanna punch myself in the face and turn purple so my skin color doesn’t protrude through my clothes.
i wanna hide in my blankets, cover my head with a bucket, my legs with a floor length gown.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
let me be someone else.
someone with browner eyes.
someone with black flowing hair.
someone with darker skin.
someone with more joy.
someone from a place prettier than here.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate it.
i hate it.
i absolutely hate it.

she was dreams filled with dead trees and dying bees
she could fake tat her entire skin canvas and drive herself insane cause it looked better that way
older men impressed her, they acted like the ocean in which they caught her up in their tides and then she was trapped
she was twisted headphones pushed deep into her eardrums, blocking out the overwhelming echo of negative voices

she wore basic tops and regular ripped jeans to fit in with the rest of the bleach blonde “be fake friends” squad
but she only ever got glanced at
she was rambunctious, but cautious
she took refuge in greasy hair and cardboard cutouts
her bed sunk where she sat just like her heart did when she would feel worth and then it would disintegrate

she cowered in the dark, shadows looming over her, coming alive to terrify her
she was confusion and crises
her insecurities turned against her, choking her and catapulting her against the nearest wall
she was rabid social anxiety shouting at her 24/7, shaking her, berating her, changing her
hair fell in clumps in the shower, the faucet raining down on her, disguising her tears
she was short curly strung out brunette hair

she filled voids with smiles from people she didn’t even know
painted her walls black to cover up the darkness she could feel circulating in her soul
she was overgrown weeds corrupting luminous gardens, invading the soft soil buried beneath the rugged surface
a balancing act wavering on insanity and death, dithering whether to end it all or to let psychiatrists determine what her main issue is
she had an avoiding tendency, not wanting to hear the truth pour out of choosers’ mouths

she was admirable though, she gathered all her thoughts and apprehensions and threw them on paper using ink pens to secure its existence
she never let it get too out of hand, she returned to her safe haven; her room, where she would make her knuckles sore from bawling cause she would not strike someone other than herself for destroying her pride
it had to be her fault in the first place

she struggled, but she got up, climbed the cliff with jagged edges, arrived at summit with ****** ribs and scraped knees and hands rubbed raw
she swallowed the pain like it was some chalky tasting pill, not grieving herself, not mumbling one complaint
she’s strong
she’s proud
she’s accomplished
she’s alive
she’s who i am now

there’s something about belonging
that sounds so sweet
his clutch on my skin
my devastation from his manic-like episodes
his huge sweater dangling off my body
something like being someone’s pawn
look in the mirror and tell me who you are
without a him

the dance floor is crowded and the floor shines like it was freshly polished.
dresses fitted tightly and loosely, dresses purple, blue, yellow, unladylike.
hands moving like torpedoes, high kicks, deep dips, choreographed nonsense.
twirls, spinning in tent like shapes, hips gracefully swaying as the trumpets scream.
waltzing my way back into reality, into the arms of a familiar stranger.
clouded with the strawberry coated thoughts of a busted up balcony with my dance partner swinging me into a trance.
must have been love in the folds on your forehead, must have been love in the lights reflecting on the dance floor, must have been love in that gloomy air upstate, must have been love where i never saw it appear before, must have been love; nothing else has ever made me feel the same brilliant surge of energy as your touch on my back.
it must have been true love.

the beat of drums pounded into her heart
releasing signals in her brain to jolt her head up and down to the rhythms.
she sang and screeched and carried on long into the night as she kissed the cheeks of some man who called her cute.
she returned home with his tattooed arm in her coat, clutching onto her for dear life; the way he should have treated his phone on the dance floor.
he flopped on the sofa, slurring his words like a sorority girl; hammered.
he blacked out belligerently drunk on her couch and at one in the afternoon he arose, coughing, residue on his fingers.
his face covered in drool from sleeping dramatically like a madman.
she handed him an advil, a glass of purified water, and her phone to call someone he had had any contact with before.
his face was pale and sickly; she could tell he felt crushed by the weight of his bewilderment.
his eyes, though strung out, were jet blue with a glimmer of teenage angst and a spark of the hopeful nature of a child in a field of dandelions.
he uttered few words and collapsed into the firm motherly hold of the couch, struck from exhaustion.
he gazed up at her, who was half naked since she had only been awake for three hours and had nowhere to go because she was too embarrassed to bare the bruises in the creases of her neck to the public.
but instead of speaking to her, he started gulping down the water after taking 3 pills of advil to make the pain disintegrate.
carefully, he set the chilly cup down and stood up slowly and steadily.
he gasped feebly, but managed to prop himself up on his two wobbly legs.
“you alright there?” she asked as casually as possible, to make him perceive her as less of a threat.
“where am i?” he inquired to this woman he faintly recalled.
“oh,” she giggled, “my house. you blacked out on my couch yesterday and i didn’t want to move you, you looked so peaceful, so i just left you there. hope you’re ok with that.”
“okay with that?” he asked gently.
“well yeah, i’d feel pretty worried if i ended up at a random strangers house on a saturday morning.”
he chuckled.
“well, to answer your question, yes i am quite confused, but i am a free spirit. so this is basically just a new experience i can add to my repertoire.”
she raised an eyebrow. “repertoire?” she pondered.
“well, i write music for a living.” he smiled sumptuously.
“you do?” her cheek bones got visibly higher and her eyes didn’t have the same troubled look to them as they did a few minutes ago.
“yes. i am not a very good musician, but my band and i get by. we play gigs at places. oh right, like last night. we were playing for fun and then...oh! a girl was kissing me. now i remember!” he was quite proud of himself for that.
“well, that’s the funny thing,” she started, “i was the one who was kissing you.” she laughed briskly.
“you were?” he asked, totally perplexed.
“of course. i didn’t know you were playing for that place last night, i thought you were a waiter or a pedestrian or something. ooh, or an alcoholic!”
“ouch.” he grinned delicately.
“no, no offense though.”
“too late, i already took it to my cast iron heart,” he joked.
she laughed.
“well, you were one cute waiter at that,” she stated seductively.
he smiled with his lips pushing into his mouth a little bit.

“thanks for everything. the couch, the advil, the talk. maybe you should see me another time. i play at bars all around the city. i’d love to see more pretty girls come around and hype me up once in a while.” his grin turned into a beam.
“no problem, i suppose i would like to spend some time around people who are rich and aren’t fun sponges,” she joked effortlessly.
“i can be sometimes.” her little giggles poured out of her mouth.
“well, i’ll see you around. hit those drums!” she called out to him as his uber arrived.
“sure thing!” he waved as he entered the car.
and for the first time in forever, his heart caused him to feel more emotions than his wicked hangover.

IF ALL THE PLACES I WENT WERE STRETCHED OUT ON MY PALMS, I’D SCREAM FOR THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE, THE EXPERIENCES I NEVER EXPERIENCED. I COULD SCREAM AND SHOUT AT THE WORLD, BUT ALL IT WOULD EVER DO IS TOSS ME IN THE DUNGEON OR WRING ME OUT LIKE A WASHCLOTH USED TOO MANY TIMES. I FEEL THE SHEETS I AM GRIPPING TIGHTLY ONTO, I FEEL MY HEART SURGING AND RELEASING AND I AM A HUMAN. A LIVING BREATHING DEPRESSED ANXIETY FILLED ORGANISM. IF ALL THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE REVOLTED AGAINST ME, I’D BE IN FOR A ROUGH RIDE, BUT THE WORLD DOESN’T RUN LIKE THAT. THE PEOPLE WITH MACHINES INSTEAD OF HEARTS AND SCOWLS INSTEAD OF SMILES ARE TAKING OVER, THEY ARE POISONING THE SOIL, DAMPENING THE DRYWALL. THEY SELF DESTRUCT TO THE SOUND OF THE TRUTH OR THE WORD “RIGHT.” THEY WEAR DARK SPRAY PAINTED SUNGLASSES TO COVER THEIR EYES FROM THEIR ISSUES ARISING. THEY ARE GUILTY. THEY ARE CRUEL. THEY AREN’T THE NICE KIND HEROES FOR MANKIND THEY MAKE THEMSELVES OUT TO BE. THEY ARE ALIVE, THEY DO NOT GET TO SPEAK FOR THE UNBORN OR FOR THE PLACES THEY’VE NEVER STEPPED FOOT IN. YEARS AND CENTURIES AGO, EXPLORERS WERE LOOKING FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, INSTEAD THEY FOUND THE FOUNTAIN WHERE HALFWITTED ADULTS MADE LIFE THREATENING DECISIONS FOR THE YOUTH OF TODAY AND TOMORROW AND CALLED IT FAIR. THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF SALVATION, THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN FOR THE YOUTH IN ANY COUNTRY OR PLANET IN THIS UNIVERSE. THERE IS NO REST. AND THERE IS ALWAYS UNREST OVER THE RIGHTEOUS WAYS. PEOPLE ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO ASSOCIATE WITH DEMONS AND LABEL IT “FUN AND MORALLY CORRECT.”

i don’t crave your big green eyes
but you’re using them to watch over somebody else.
i know this relationship is over
but i wish i could’ve ended it with somebody else.
and i don’t like that you’re sharing drinks with another woman
who sells her body to get money
wouldn’t you have liked to be with somebody else?
she has your favorite songs on cds and i never did
i wish you could’ve ended up loving somebody else.
somebody who’s rude to waiters, somebody who is only good for a first date or
at least somebody else.
now i have to hide my cold hands under my winter coat
cause you’re too busy holding somebody else’s.
your dog still loves me more
but he has to spend some time with somebody else.
just like you went and forgot me
cause it was more beneficial to see yourself with somebody else.
now you’re happy go lucky
since you’ve replaced me with somebody else.
lonely eating ice cream
while you’re shoving it down in the house of somebody else.
perhaps, i don’t miss your company
i’ve just been enjoying it more with somebody else.
or maybe this is hopeless
and i should let you make love to somebody else.

i don’t want your body
but i hate to think about you with somebody else.

snapped out of existence
in a rustic flannel
lying at the bottom of a pit
far into the mushy ground
the core of the earth
pinned against my ribs
lips as cold as the Antarctic
stomach as empty as words
left to rot
as rain descends
on my emaciated corpse

the red light distorts the cigarette smoke coming out of your nose. in the haze, i’m caught up writing prose with a bottle of coke in my left hand. trying not to choke on the heavy smoke ruminating throughout the suffocating room. your eyes the same shade of blood red as the lights. i’m boarding windows claiming i need no fresh air in my paper mâché lungs. pollute me more.

candle wax dripping down your hands
a tablecloth tied around your waist
dawn feels like the apocalypse
cause it’s so still
and endless
we’re both helpless in this realm
but you are gripping me so tight
i’m going numb
how come you can ease this pain
with your bruised arms
hidden underneath the tablecloth?
immortal love
is a concept i only heard of in the
highest heavens
speaking of that, where are we?
gravity seems too difficult of a subject
matter to explore
i’ve only ever been on one planet
but you can be my next
although the dark seems like
a cloaked monster with
bear claws
and candle wax
seeping from every vessel
it can’t envelop us
it can only change our ambience
nothing can capture us
through the tight grasp
of our arms together

where did you come from?
cause i lit every candle in this room
now they’re all blown out
and the darkness doesn’t exist
science can’t explain this
neither can my lips
so i dance in the burning kitchen
with your hands on my waist
and mine on the tablecloth
you wrapped around yours

“forever?”

                             “forever.”

it was when you looked at me as the fireworks exploded in your eyes that i realized this is what life should be like

ballrooms and bokeh lights