i started writing a poem about you
the words were ropes wound tight around my hands
but the ship was sinking.
so i cut the ties
the knife slipping and slicing cuts in my hands
and i let go
before i too became a wreck

I am sure
That in this lifetime
Our bodies will unite
And we will bring this world to ash
It will be beautiful and destructive
As if the stars have fallen to the earth
And until then
I won't stop burning for you

rage diet you keep feeding
with empty promises.
you want to hold my hand
while the rest of me falls apart.
i really like you, but a little less
when you touch me.
the rage is distorting my face
and you still call me pretty

You’ll become a poet of habit
A Monday’s offer in the supermarket
Your words will sell themselves
To feed the overfed
Alas
You don’t like the idea
Yet
You’re consumed by it.

Cold hands underneath my body.
Fingers rapidly grasping my arm longing for me to stay
I shake off any affection given to me.
“Poison,
Get away from me” I hear one of my voices telling me.
Maybe I am right, or maybe I’m wrong
I can’t deny the feeling of confusion mixed with anger and
sadness.
We’re all nonexistent species wanting to be loved so badly
by someone else because we cannot fully absorb the
concept of being alone.
We are made of single I’s.
We are two different souls that
will never ever know the other person anyway..