He read me my precautions
Only removing my own decay
In return his novocaine 
Don't you worry about nerve endings,
They'll splinter up eject themselves away
In time you'll teach yourself to capsulate the pain,
Just sign your essence away,
I'll give you more novocaine.


*"Sometimes it's better not to feel"

Dizzy, dazed, and sedated,
Nightly rinse bleaching brains,
Slowly spinning me apart.
Roses flashing on screen, withered.

Worshiping at the Pantheon,
Novocaine for the brain.
My habitual easy friends.
Lust conquering love.

Lights go out!
Alone in the dark.
Guiltless shame,
I'll quit after tomorrow.

Dear Pickle,

You are making my face sour. Mom is mad at you for skipping school and I have to talk her down again.

Maybe next time you can write me a 1200 word essay on "How stupid your decisions are", So I can mark it up with red pen before you lose grades on your ribs.

Sister, you need to calm your *** down, because the world isn't a race and the underdog doesn't always come in first, or even second.
But take a second to stop breathing that smoke you call air, everybody is choking on the smell of teen-spirit.
The tattoos not yet ingaved in your skin will serve as a reminder of how you took last place in a family full of sharp broken pieces of glass.
I tell Mom "Don't worry, it's just a phase, she just needs a second to find her place, in this world" But, at this rate, I'm not sure you will.

Because, people will knock on your door and hand you bottles of quick fixes and Novocaine, and I hope that this poem isn't in vain to serve as a reminder of that little girl that still caught fireflies in her teeth.

And I am sorry I left for 3 years without watching your molecules multiply, but I wrote my times tables on the back of my diploma for you to study.

That 6 year old girl with woodland creature cheeks hasn't been forgotten.
That 6 year old girl who never failed to puke in the car after a glass of milk hasn't been forgotten.
That 6 year old girl that cried every time we told anyone you are cat food under the kitchen table hasn't been forgotten.

I am sorry, can you bring her back now?

And for me, could you stop making Mom cry, she has watered so many Forget-me-nots that I am afraid her roots are drowning.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all the time you bared swords and shields to defend me against the stereotypes that threatened to staple them themselves to the inside of our cheeks, but come on...get your **** together.

We are blood-brothers...with vaginas.
Don't you dare break that bond because if you do I will lock you in the closet, turn the lights of and leave you in there screaming and crying until the rebellion leaves your bladder.

I'm your sister, not your mother. I will not birth any more brother *****-ups for you to father.

Love,
Vinegar.

when she says she is empty,
she is not asking to be filled.
stretch her thin and you will see
gold
peeking through her worn body.
stretch her thin and you feel her
fire
burning what you hold.
do not hold her.
when she says she is numb,
she is not asking to feel something.
do not wait out her novocaine
mood
drooling down her chin.
do not wait out her novocaine
high
she is elated.
do not bring her down.
she is a bookmark holding someone else's place:
do not move her.
someone left her,
waiting,
she does not know the other side:
that does not mean you show her.
someday she will be fire.
she will dry all that she has soaked with her
ravine heart.
you will follow her black markings to something
gold
she will be followed.
do not be surprised when she does not moan,
she will not moan,
she does not feel.
she is still ice.
when she says she is ice
do not try to melt her.
she will be fire.

Novocaine

I need some for the heart.

Novocaine rubbed to a worn out heart.

Easing the aches of hours of exercise

to prepare it for more length of emotional highway ahead.

Rough starts

Harsh Falls

Sweet Restarts

Turbulent Trials within Moments

Just like a cracked tooth, it can be a pain

Ease the length to the refreshment of healing time

Back to the point of strength and enlightenment

A numbing presence to ease hours of access feelings

which only deepen the strains.

(Hypnos- God of Sleep
Eros- God of Love
Nyx- Goddess of Night)

ME:
I closed my eyes
And met 3 strangers
Whose names I knew but,
Could not express.
They stood with grace and prowess,
Each one grander than the next.
They petitioned me to ask them,
Anything at all,
So I asked them about dreams,
Given to us by gods.

HYPNOS:
A weak internal monologue,
Lapsing into night.
They sleep and breathe
So slowly,
They sleep; and breathe so deep.

EROS:
Their dreams I clouded,
Tinged, with crimson haze.
They long for one another,
They long;
To find each other.

NYX:
The dream ends now!
As my darkness overwhelms.
They no longer need to think,
They drink;
As to forget.

ME:
Pretence keeps up my dreaming,
Innerspeaker of my thoughts,
Past tense reveals it all:
Groundskeeper
To my soul.

An arrow from your quivers
Surely would do the job,
Of a thousand
Quarts of liqour
Or novocaine, or god.

NYX:
When you see light
You will see clearly,
The truth of misery.
Though I know nothing of such light,
The darkness lives in me.

EROS:
Soon your day will come,
To feel as all the rest.
The burning fire of passion,
Bellowing wild,
A fire without smoke.

HYPNOS:
And now as you awake,
Arise! Dear sir, go forth,
Knowing of what you learned,
In this episode,
This dream.

you've a skeleton mouth.
static crumbles in your throat —
please enunciate.
i am no translator of this archaic language
of sidestepping the truth,
i am merely a pair of lips and a heart
constructed for you to do with what you will.

here's the thing: i like you.
i like you how a flower girl might like
tossing petals to the air and watching them
flutter down:
with a foreign innocence
that instills in me a voracious appetite
for your sacred space to invade my own.

i liked you in october chill,
when rosebuds were your cheeks,
and with gentle panic
i think i am falling for you
crept into my unspoken lexicon.
novocaine verbatim numbed words
that would otherwise violently swell
to the tip of a stained tongue,
and i liked you in a little black dress,
just as all the stories said i would.

i liked you in moments
when nothing could logically tether me to you,
and i think it stays prevalent in the curve
of the husky laugh i can so easily drown in.
i like your laugh,
but what i like most is
that it comes from your mouth.

August still catches in my head like that Manhattan melody
        when he was my little vial of Novocaine.
        when the moon showed her face and we slept on my floor
and our knees and hips and
shoulders—all the hinges of our bodies—washed with
a twilight of mauve and Bordeaux.
And one night he painted me with
two rows of clenched teeth—dipping in and out of white pools of Selene.
I have a bed now that he has left
        with sheets that billow on the right side,
        with real blankets that aren't hospital blankets.
And he is my little vial of Novocaine
that took a train to states away. And the miles
between have left me with a weight in my chest that I'm sure fell from
his suitcase. I've got
        bones made of buildings,
        and a metropolitan heart,
        and a steady smile
knowing this same moon hangs over him and that borough.

I want her to shoot me,
   With her novocaine saliva,
             Her tounge as the needle,
                   To kiss me passionately as the doctor that I seek...

Now here we are, what have we become?
Our world is not like it use to be... It's
Very messy now, and people not caring. What happen here?
Our world needs our help! What happen to this
Culture? We were suppose to be the dreamers
And  the creators, but wait!! It's not too late.
If* we start now, we could still save our world and maybe the
Next generation can do better; *learn from our mistakes.
Everyone: We're all in this together!!

*Together we can change our future!

when was the last time you actually felt anything?
let it course through your veins like clay and novocaine

your stomach flipping like dolphins
and your heart absorbing the endorphins

etching words in your skin until you bleed like you don't even know the feeling

of being in your sober mind more than just once or twice

because if we are going to do this I want to see your eyes close when we kiss
and feel your fingers shake
and let your skin hiss

i'm feeling everything for you and you're inhaling smoke fumes

i know it's not fair but I guess it doesn't compare to the mask you try to wear

made from cheap alcohol and the way I'll fall

ending in a broken eulogy at merely twenty
and that's not the way I want it to be