i'm cutting the necklines out of my t-shirts
in the middle of the night i'll snap fingers in my teeth
i can live with bad feelings (we all do) i can live
with busted knees
my floors are water and cover ups. i can live
with missing teeth
there have been worse things in my hands i'm cutting tape right off my skin
(I FEEL LIKE HELL OH MY GOD)
we all do
i can live with bad feelings we can live
through bad dreams
this is the time when we all sit down. cut war wounds down our jeans
you bring the heat and i'll think how much worse i used to be

I send text messages like it's an art form. Subtle, curious glances at a blinking light that comes not nearly enough, quick replies like fluid in my fingers. I am the new generation. I am the electronic daughter of a turntable and a symphony, the quiet-on-the-outside-until-someone-calls-my-name burst of energy who comes in like a thunderstorm and leaves like a gust of wind. I love like a wildfire, dance across life like a firefly, and drown myself in the quick distractions of a busy, lights-flashing-so-bright-it-hurts world.

I grab, reaching for bonds that aren't there, pull him underwater with me and clash with him like two hydrogen atoms, then burst apart in a flash of light. Love for me is an atom bomb. Love is an explosion. Love is quick encounters, kisses in the dark, passion in bright bursts that come and go as fast as lightning strikes the earth.

And, gods, I want him.

I cry to love him, sleep fitfully to think of him, and cannot desire for more than to run from him. I want to reach out, reach forward, reach into him, grab for something, nothing, anything that can promise me he will or won't lead to another broken promise.

Lips touching, pulling me down, leaving me screaming out for air because my air not oxygen, it's nothing but him and the scent of him and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and

I

can't

breathe

My eyes keep flickering to the green light. I groan, and type another message.

I've got it so bad for this boy

I understand. Have you talked to him about it?

no way,,,, im a hot mess. he's too much for me, seriously

Young love.

seriously man don't do that I'm so frustratingly dependent rn

You love him. 

do not

Do so.

I throw the phone down, pull a stuffed animal towards me, grumble to myself, and look for the flickering light. Nothing. No response. I press my palm to my forehead and return to music, but it isn't enough.

You love him.

do not

Like a symphony of lights and sounds knows how to love. She doesn't, I don't, not really, but I know how to reach, how to desire, how to drown myself with the semblence of a feeling. I wish I knew how to love, and I wouldn't mind if he taught me, but can I love now? After I loved that once and it was ripped from me? I don't know how. I don't remember.

he ****** me up, dude, i don't even know if this is love or if i'm trying to replace the feeling i had with you-know-who with someone else

I don't think so. He tried to ground you, and I don't think you really want to replace that

it's like risking true love for the safe option

"true love" What

I'm just saying... that's how i was with him really. it was love once but it distorted into more of a safety net

I guess. But you can love someone again, honey. You just have to figure out how

yeah i do. somehow. god help me

You can do it

unsent: maybe. or maybe im hopeless

It's easy to dream when you're lost. Hope is a powerful thing. They say I'm part of a generation lost in the glamour, but are we? Are we lost in the glamour, or are we losing ourselves in the flashing lights to avoid the reality of life, that stuff *****?

Maybe we'll figure out how to love again, or maybe they're right. Maybe I got lost in the glamour.

Maybe the wildfire will never go out, the wind will never stop, and the lights will keep flashing.

Maybe I'm hopeless.

i was a cold, sad girl
tiny, too tiny, oh so tiny
but never enough to be
that girl
the ballerina with wings
instead of feet
cold, so cold
chilled to the bones
that fed my obsession
and taunted me
the desire to grow wings
the haunting feeling
feathers brushing my shoulders
but weight, so much weight
flight held down with bones like anchors
i had no perseus
to unchain me from the rocks.
i was a cold, sad girl
who needed just enough
to cut the chains myself
to give life to my wings
and fly away

Who is she but blood of that demise
In fiery passion her own blood consumes?
Like powder waiting for the heat of flame
Whose heat in lonely agony she bathes?
What is it but fire of that demise
Whose sacrificial prodigies be made
To keep him superstitious of the flame?
And in triumph, like fire, they consume.

Dusk smiles at the pain of others
And dawn cries at my torn shoulders
Silver winged ribbons ties my arms
And red is the color of me

Why is it at the end?
Why couldn't I see the truth back then?
The world is full of lies
I could just simply die

The pain of our suffering
Means no more to the hate
Scarlet lines the song of this
And forever bring happy bliss

He burnt the bed sheets. Finally.
His shoes
Smelt of marital blood
Afterwards.
On days like these,
He enjoys catching dust in his hands,
Likes to compare the flecks to the
Cuts on his palms
Until he can’t see the difference
Anymore.

Shrieks come from the tub,
Voltage pushing his legs to jump.
Now he watches the bath
Rumble the house with its tears

Plump.
          Plump.
                    Plump.

Rain covers tormented streets;
He too feels he must erupt from the sky.

Plump.
          Plump.
                    Plump.

A window
Replays the chaos of the world
From ten stories high.

Plump.