The smell of your skin
is too familiar
It’s almost like we’ve
gone back in time
   To the days when I could
   caress my favorite features
   of yours—your hands—
   without a second thought
but I’m wondering if
this is too much, if I’m
crossing a line, or
if I’m zig-zagging streams
on the bar graph of time
and a calamitous end
will meet all entangled

Your strengthening grip
on my hip assures me though,
that nothing outside of this
firm mattress covered by
sky blue sheets with bleach stained clouds
matters—at all—so let’s lay here
for ten hours straight
and bask in the warmth
of each other’s glowing souls,
reconnected at last,
   with old questions drowning
  in the abyss of the unknown
because why would I ruin a
moment so perfect as this?

Stranded in my dreams,
with fear strangling me, and
love falling to death.

There is a lizard
trapped in my bathtub; the climb
is too steep for him.

I can’t stop dreaming of you
  and your astral projection
won’t stop sauntering
into my alternate universe
where our bodies collide
and you wriggle and writhe
underneath me.

I’ve become fixated with you
  and all the sounds you make;
your ragged breaths
and guttural guffaws
and the quiver
in your libidinous voice.

I find myself daydreaming
of your magnificent eyes,
bristling bright with fervor
as my vocal chords
give more pleasure
to your skin
than your ears.

I wish I could sleep for days
just to have you
      All to myself
on the alternate plane
of pleasure

Music is moving—
like iridescent sound waves,
coloring my mood.

I do not like this scene
or this chapter in my book
My fingers have failed me
as my thoughts evade me
I can’t write this for you
though you’ve done so much
You’ve written me into existence
and I want to edit myself out
It’s easier to put words
on a page that you can rip out
than to speak them to you
and watch the venom bleed
through the cracks of your tired skin
I’m so hurtful, like the edges
of dry, fresh cut paper—
sharp enough to cut,
too dull to scar—
only ever thumbed through
never perused—yearning to
be read and understood
and remembered

I thought I knew how to string a web
of realizations around my six of hearts,
but playing cards and not cashing in
makes no sense to pessimists that drink
not often enough

Emotions are hairy and tarantulas are scary
Strawberry wine has a buttery aftertaste, he says
So why am I feeling like I don’t know anything
after expressing my thoughts I can’t sort out?

What makes sense? Not these words
Knowing yourself is figuring out the infinite piece
puzzle you’ll never finish because they’re scattered
all about to everyone you love
But they’ll never complete you like you want them to

Tears come naturally like rain from the sky
Salty droplets, trickling down from your puffy eyes
There’s a frog in your throat, croaking louder than ever
Is this enough nonsense for you?

feeling like I wanna fight you
  shaking because I wanna bite you
   wondering just how to invite you
   into my private domain

radiating aphrodisia
  developing synesthesia
   for the natural taste of euphoria
   that's stuck to my fingertips

breathing heavily
  fondling steadily
   reckless intensity
   all to a sweet melody

I do not think
this year has for me
the only thing I’ve wished for
since the start of 2013 —
  someone to miss more than
peach scented memories,
  someone to call before I go to sleep
to hear the soothing sound of rhythmic breath,
so sweet, someone to share my skin and my
most personal of thoughts,
  someone I want comfort from while I weep,
and as open as the book I just bought,
  someone drawn to me as I am to them
with the invisible line our brains fill in,
  someone whose presence is as delightful,
as a burning vanilla candle,
and as alluring as a draft of cold air
among sweltering heat
  I do not think
this “someone” is
someone I’ll ever meet

Tomorrow always
brings news that dampens my mood,
save day for haiku

I remember at the party
as blurry as it all was
when you kissed me through my tears
and startled me
I was angry
angry because I took the blame
for the tickets we all received
and you kissed me
I was too blinded by *** to see how romantic
and how sweet your gesture of sympathy
really was, objectively;
internally I was not ready, for reasons
unclear even to myself
(to sum,
I was young and dumb
and frightened of affection)
but even now, a year or two later
I think about your eyes, sparkling
and wired, intimidating and intriguing;
I think about your posture, your wit,
your cyclist thighs,
and wonder why I didn’t think
you were a catch of a guy

I never thought the two of us would be on this plane
Here we are, diving headfirst into a charade done in vain
Loosely tidying up encounters we remark back on with scoffs

Fun times they were, those sudden acts of lust
If this be another, you will have demolished the last of my trust
There’s nothing worse than the feeling of being used
Manipulate me again, I’ll find another muse
And what we have just done will be another addition to our plain of “fun”

Something consistent is all I desire
Even consistently fondling carries some kind of longing acquired over time
To be longed for, to be desired…

I’m oh so tired of being devoid of the wondrous sensation that fills one with absolute joy…
to where one cannot think straight or hold responsible their foolish acts because it’s all in the name of love

That single word holds so much power, so much meaning, yet is tossed around left and right by those who deserve nothing of it and leave those who possess sincerity to suffer

But there is a lesser form of love; an equally complicated form that has touched me often, yet leaves the ground beneath my feet shaken only temporarily

… except for those Irish eyes…

Now, you have been here before, capturing my eye
Bluntly you can see the spark, yet I’m amazed to know you noticed and didn’t completely fade from my sight
I seem to humor you with my timid presence while you humor me with your strange persona
Typically not a perfect pair, but ultimately compatible

You never cease to amaze me
The words that drip from the ink you hold
to the beautiful arrangements of notes your fingers unfold
Your passion for such an art that moves others in various ways intrigues me
I’m a bit envious, really
I wish I could possess the commitment for something I adored

And the way you convey your thoughts on paper sends shivers down my spine
You were always someone I admired, though I never imagined you wanted to chance your time
Things have changed, we too have evolved
Maybe now nature will make the call
And set the sword in stone for the two of us to pull free
You seem careless now, but what does it hurt to try?

Try me.

Contacting a friend,
who doesn't reply back; you
feel like a dead-weight.

I relate to everyone I meet
even though I have not walked in their shoes
I dig deep and connect via raised brows
and sincere solemnity

If a tear is shed, I may shed one too
but after the moment has passed
My reaction time is set to delay
so intake is at the highest of caliber

I feel like I’ve forgotten how to convey
the fleeting feelings fired from fraying fibers
residing in mushy tissue

Understanding is not my issue
   Being definite is
I mold and shift, like a contortionist
and cease to untwist when coming undone

How long until this

predicament without wheels

might screech to a halt?

Your soft lips make me
wish I had asked to join your
refreshing shower

Back when James Bond
and Indiana Jones were favorites
among the household,
and breakfast sizzled to tickle me
out of bed, and when cartoons
were at the perfect time of day
after long hours of instruction—
those days are gone,
replaced by weeks condensed
with indifference towards each other,
and echoing anguish off of unfinished floors,
and harping about the price of fuel—
Back when felines were abundant
to love and protect like the family they became
until they were given a new home while I was away,
and activities were shared with no such thought,
and the bottles of chardonnay were less often—
before the switch flipped, before the filter dissolved,
before critical understanding of the complexities
and intricacies of life and human nature;
Growing pains are the realizations
that not everything is as it was,
and there isn’t a way to return

Here is a haiku

I have fabricated out

of thin air and words

Apologizing

is difficult when you feel

so indifferent

Right.
What is right?
Nothing that comes from me.
Wrong.
Am I wrong?
Doubtful; it's all I'll ever be.

Underappreciated.
Undeserving. Which weighs
heavier on my heart and mind?
My conscience is crippled
I can't count the ripples
of sadness chasing behind

Solitary isolation
From loving interaction
I wither, alone, inside myself
I wish to shred my skin to bits
Cry what I detest with every stitch

Am I right to feel
Anything at all?
Doubtful; I'm always wrong.

Around the corner,
here comes Valentine's Day; the
day I shoot myself

i. He takes at least five breaks for fuel
And four breaks to ***
He strolls in a half hour early
To eat alone in peace

ii. His walk has a cadence
An enlightened stride
Like he’s never late
And always unwind

iii. He is seemingly not bothered
By minor inconveniences
He does not mind when I
Apologize for obstructing his path

iv. Sometimes he says goodbye
Sometimes he does not
Sometimes I say hello,
Sometimes, I cannot

Please, oh please
can you spare a drop
of the liquid flowing through you,
dripping down your sweet ****?

I am quite parched
I’ve been barren for months
Please can I drink in
your billowy lumps?

Pour into my crevasse
Make me bloom with life
Moisturize the cracks I’ve earned
from loneliness and strife

I’m a desolate island
desperate for nature’s touch
but too far from land
for one shower to be enough

I dip my head
to avert your eyes
every time we pass
I hold my breath
to prevent from speaking
and proving myself an ***
I pretend I know
what you think of me,
that I’m strange and unappealing
I fear I’ve blown
any chance at knowing you
and sharing these feelings

I was raised well and right--
kind, loving, and bright--
but I do not glow
nor drink in light,
for this world I know
teems with walking plight--
preying on silent sighs
cracking loony smiles,
leaking crimson through
pearl bones baring
unfathomable truths

One lesson I've learned
from this congested city
is to remain optimistic
Bathe in the cold
that is the shoulder turned
Keep your eyes wide
so they dry faster when burned
and your cheeks glisten like
the dance of water's reflection

Seethe with laughter
under our calm,
cratered companion
Bleed placid volumes
of heightened reality
and inject the poison
of furrowed brows and
whimpering pleas into
every failed attempt
at hiding your shadows cast
by the foreboding full moon
Be what's been shining
towards a better you

When it rains it pours,
and when your frame
plays through the reel
behind my glossy eyes
there’s bound to be a storm.

I grow weary of dreaming
I’m floating on highs
exhausting every last one
of these stifled sighs

You’re the breath
caught in my sore throat
scratching and suffocating
I’ll hold my breath so I may choke

You never listened when I spoke

Encased in a box
is the magic of Christmas
none could manage out.

There is a cold chill
throughout this house without lights
and the smell of pine.

This gold chest
I hold near my breast
Reeks of the memories encased inside
Many days of blowing smoke,
passing pipes and getting high
Carefree days of
    You and I
Fingers intertwined
And after many shots
and glasses of wine
we would unwind with a dime
and let our hands do the talking
   This gold chest, I open every day
It wasn’t mine to take
because you didn’t give it to me
But you don’t care anyway
I longed for your memory
So with me, it will stay

December;
Biting cold
Stinging regrets
A year's entirety
Lost in the threads
Of space and time
One more year rubbed from your life-line

Less hearts to warm
Less gatherings to endure
Tinsel glistens in the draft
Prickly pine needles stab
Dry, calloused, aging hands
The tale of Bethlehem
does not explain who I am
or where I'm going
Is it easier, knowing?
Every question answered as the wind's blowing,
roads and trees groaning

The end of the beginning of the rest of your life
We embrace with lists of grandeur
Resolutions ****
From the root
An autumn fade,
A crack change
Like we found all the chilling answers
to our silent questions
in the dead December air

I’ve got chills; my face

is still, absorbing the flame

flickering black cherry

Long ******* day
Short night
They say there aren’t enough hours in a day
I don’t think they are right
Darkness can shroud me in its
suffocating void for many
blue moons and I would still loathe the light
For the day brings headaches,
annoyances, a disgust for humans,
and the familiar, which I wish to leave behind
The light is a blaring reminder of the opportunities
I have not seized, the automatons that drive the streets,
and in the grand scheme of things, this life
I am too frail and meek
The night provides peace from
the overwhelming sun-inspired activities
that I don’t have the strength to sustain
I feed from the void, tasting the insane,
satisfying nothing but a harrowed
mind with empty thoughts
I am hungry for the night

I’m so sorry for not doing what I should have done all those times
I wish I was a better daughter
I’ve been speaking my wishes to careless gods
Not one has come true
Maybe there really isn’t a god
But I can’t tell you that—then what would be your reason to continue?
I can’t lose you, not yet
I haven’t apologized for my ways
and expressed the ache in my heart
But it’s scary to be vulnerable
and I’m a coward
A self-hating coward
You would say I fear for I don’t believe
I would say you believe out of fear
Maybe I’ll confess to you at the end of this year
Or maybe I’ll keep it to myself again
and then something awful will happen and I’ll hate myself forever
It shouldn’t be this hard to tell someone what they mean to you
Why does it seem this will be the last thing I ever do?

In my sleep, we walked
along the dampened street
under the moon's influential glow
We stopped and stared, analyzing each
other's  features we used to know

I did not care where we went
I only wanted my time spent with you,
doing what we never had the chance to do

I could feel the warmth from your skin
even after my eyes had opened
The corners of my mouth were curved
When I realized it was only a dream,
I sighed only one word: Why?

My first Halloween
alone with my thoughts and no
candy to console

Autumn shade; crinkling
leaves beneath my shoes; woolly
sweaters and berets

Hot flashes
of caring gestures,
warming tender hearts
pass before the act
can commense
Cold chills
of lonliness
visions of pity
spike blood—
prepare for the wave
of debilitating repetition

These days drag on
while I drag on my finely
rolled cigarette of relief
But the relief is only a hazy
mask, fading with every lash
that falls on my cheek
My hair is too weak and
unkempt, for days spent
inside enduring darkness
take a toll on one's
mentality and physicality

I am a shell of who I used to be
Lips stuck together, crooked spine,
fingers jammed from carpel tunnel
Apathetic eyes grow weary from the
vast toxins that reside behind them
seeping through like an absorbent napkin
and rung out with listlessness

These days drag on and on
I hear the same songs
and make the same motions
I miss the fresh air and
the sound of the ocean
I almost miss the faint
smell of burts bees on
your lips--I'm sick with
nostalgia and dying for the future,
hating the present, wishing these
days would drag to an end

Like a foot in between elevator doors,
   you've wedged an opening,
but not quite wide enough to
    fit through
Ambient words of the moment
fill the complacent air
   for far too long
  I wish I could hold us
up to keep you unharmed,
but I'm only the cable hanging us high,
ready to snap with just enough pressure,
  sending you falling to your doom
    while I sway freely

Words have escaped me

There is nothing left to say

I’ve swallowed my emotions

It’s just another day

Another day of self-hatred

For everyone else’s actions

I’m hoarding all the blame,

For I have no distractions

This unnecessary guilt

For things I haven’t done

Is tearing me apart

From myself and everyone

I’m a versatile
  night owl
peering with dark-rimmed eyes
upon my prey, those sorts of guys
that make me quiver
   hairline touch shiver
and pulse with a fervent scene

There’s something about your pale skin
blanketed with thin hairs that makes
me care to become closer, to massage
your ache, to make you quake with
relief; despite your disbelief
about my interest in you, I really do wish to kiss
your manner and bathe in the
cool vibes you emit.
I want to hit my brain for
silencing my heart, for halting
its beats when my eyes meet
your sweet and enticing
form; It’s hard for me to say
if I’ll feel the same as yesterday
in the future, for fickleness
has been in my nature,
though it is an unattractive trait—
indecision and impulsivity;
Contemplation is a proclivity,
a natural occurring activity that
sends too many signals to my mind
and I waste all of my precious time
deciphering true feelings from
conditioned expectations
However, I cannot deny the tingly
sensation my body rides when I look
into your mind
And I’m quite curious to find
out everything about you while
keeping my own mystery unsolved

True colors have been reflected
like glossy panels of deceit;
A palette of mixed aggressive tones
to paint a hue of hate;
****** images depicted,
displaying a forgotten world
of an imagination still sputtering on
A heart scarred for disbelieving the
truth with each stroke;
Empathetic swirls of long repressed
feelings, staccato marks the untraceable
A blend of emotions that leaves my gut
reeling, like pigments of color circling
a water-filled bowl

Insignificant this day has been,
which I predicted far ahead
So why do I still hang low
my soppy, untouched head?

Expect the unexpected, and
you shall never be surprised
How does one not expect what’s
expected to save one’s cries?

My expression dismayed,
my heart flutters not
For on my day of birth,
my mother has forgot

I do not deserve a celebration,
I have come to understand
Those close in relation to I,
I failed to grasp their hand

To take hold of what is false,
my importance and existence
If thy blood shall not think of me,
why exhibit anything but resistance?

The condensed pressure

of arithmetic has been

alleviated

Rain, rain, pelt my face

Camouflage the salty tears

trickling down my cheek