FREE[to]FALL

spies.

2011-10-07T15:08:00.001-07:00

i never told you
about dusty lace
and the soft exhale
of a ceiling fan
slow and in-time
with decaying heartbeats;
it does not bear explanation
that i left you on
cold linoleum and lonely riversides
to contemplate your own skin
in comparison with
harsh sahara sands--
it is not a life i've left you with,
but a city block
where nobody lives
and what did you expect,
wire-bones and industry-eyes?
there are no petal-lips or
silkspun locks
for you to hold or touch,
because i am steel-on-honey
in all the wrong ways
and how can you not hate me?

How to Not Know

2011-09-27T18:44:00.003-07:00

i am picking up stars
of crushed velvet and space dust
to set gently on iridescent eyelids
because nothing is too good
for you,
sweetheart.
how would rainy bust stops feel
if you didn't know the destination
and your footsteps were glass-on-grass
like a lightning storm?
you are a function,
variables of an artist
but i love you still--
hearts are not streetlights,
darling.

jupiter and glass

2011-09-27T18:44:00.001-07:00

we find ourselves
in coppery confines and
soft rose glass,
the fractals of our choosing--
but do we choose to love,
or does it fall from
sweet flounder lips, unprecedented,
galaxies without names?
let us run rapid, rampant, ragged
i love you brimming with sun
and if i were jupiter
tell me you'd be my red spot.

[aren't there things we've never said,
places we've never heard of?]

if your face was a hearth
i'd never put it out,
love,
fling our lives from skyscrapers
and laugh when they hit the ground--

[tell me you think we
were worth it all--]

solarprince

2011-09-13T08:48:00.000-07:00

when it hits me
late at night like a migraine
or a storm wave,
you are staring at me with wide, wide
greenasyou'deverlike
eyes
and you are reminding me quietly
that we are the same,
and all the words wrung from your soft
weather-lips, whether-or-not
i could hear them,
were a beautiful blur seeping into the spidery veins
in my ear
like a steady stream of cool water
coupled with hot hot forestfire breath--

and oh how i knew i loved you.

when you sing,
you carry us away like a natural disaster
and we no longer feel man-made;
we ache for beauty and oxygen
and we are enough because
we are Two People
among billions
who happen to love each other
((and have you heard that you are a tidal wave,
mistakes and beauty and perfection?))

let's listen close to goldfish and snowfall,
all the silence they've ever said
may be worth more than our spoken vows
and perhaps we are lily-skinned and
soft-eyed
but what questions can that ever answer?

[let us be more than the sky,
let the galaxy spill between us]

[i]
[love]
[you]
[more]
[than]
[the]
[stars]

July

2011-07-07T14:15:00.001-07:00

july
is a small word
but it contains orange-sateen skies and
the heated way your tongue traces my earlobe;
smoldering evenings are on the rise like inflation,
and i find that i cannot get enough of you
even as you fill me with
hot hot ember-breath-youareawildfireonmyskin and
Dear God,
let my bones be flint and marrow-matches.

[have i told you, we could burn to death
by the way you look at me?]

i crave your legs wrapped tight around me
like a scorching security blanket--
we could hotbox in our own love
and it would not be a stretch,
and i want you to hear that
no words sound ugly when you say them.

[the only words i want to say are
i love you, i love you, i love you]

i love you and it seeps from my pores
and fills my lungs from ground zero
and pounds through my head like drums,
my skin rises to yours as if called
and i whisper your name overandoverandover--

july is such a small word
to contain the two of us.

put this in a bottle and drink it.

2011-07-07T14:14:00.002-07:00

i will not start by asking a question,
but tell you i always wondered why
we have eyelashes instead of soft robin wings,
and why our pupils are not star-shaped like our minds,
and most importantly,
why my skin pools to fit your body like rain.

[i have questions but you are my favorite answer.]

perhaps someday soon the world will end
with a river emptying its currents into our screaming
mouths
wide like an earthquake,
and perhaps someday soon we will be found
far from home but at home with each other
and all of the things you sing about
around our lovely heads.

we share words like we have joint custody
on the english language
and it keeps us together when flesh is not an option;
i keep tripping over long nerves and tendons
telling me your brain is one with your heart,
and you are everything--
friction and absence and electricity and oxygen, and

imissyoulikeyou'remyskin.

fight club.

2011-07-07T14:14:00.001-07:00

are you ever just tired of hearing me say the word 'oceanside'?
do you ache for synapses and cerebellum, do you want my words
to leave you sinking? intensity in a teacup, do you want
to be left trembling? do you ask questions, love, are
you in love? because i want to be stripped down and
left with nothing, sing to me until i can't hear
anymore. i want your words to leave me without
nerve endings, fingerprints burnt off. let's
feel so much that we'll never feel again,
let's spontaneously combust so we won't
ever feel too hot. you and i and late
nights, oil spills on lakesides, we
will go out with a conflagrative
finish and if we peel away our
identity, we will never feel
that we don't belong. love,
we will belong everywhere.
don't you wonder what
people do when they
cannot seem to
remember how
to breathe?
lungs are
filthy
lies
.

Lighthouse Teeth

2011-05-16T10:54:00.001-07:00

you tell me
'baby, we're all made of star-stuff'
i breathe in your words like a promise, I promise
we are northern lights in a bottle,
we shine where we like.

love, you're a sun in the gears of a man
and our bones were made for ocean winds
with our lighthouse teeth.

together,
we are velveteen storm clouds
can you feel
our bodies shake in beautiful tandem?
and you with your solar heartbeat,
we wake up over warm atmosphere.
we live like we love,
we love like we live.

we're dying for a breath of sky,
lungs and love and oxygen
hazy eyes but clear vision
we are going places.

[we shine where we like.]

box of letters

2011-05-15T12:14:00.001-07:00

dear You,
our skin is an explosion,
kerosene and love
and we rise like fog on wet nights
to breathe in heavy atmosphere--
i want to paint you in shades of gold
because you glow like a chemical,
hot like the sun;
and if we are alive,
we will love like Rockets.
sincerely yours,
--Me

dear You,
together we are star-stuff and
lamplight,
an unlikely pair of celestial lovers
and one bright heart between;
i want to take you someplace you haven't been
but you leave little else in your wake,
velvet storm as you are,
and i know that if we die,
we will implode
together.
sincerely yours,
--Me

dear You,
i associate you with yellow paper
and soft pine,
and you are such an artist, glowing--
i want nothing more than to breathe you in
like a warm night,
soothing and all-encompassing
because i always want to be closer to you
and my favorite part is that
we could stand apart, too
[but we choose not to]
please
letmefillyourlungs.
sincerely yours,
--Me

it's only a chorus if you repeat it.

2011-04-11T06:41:00.000-07:00

dear you:

i have never written you a letter
because words fade fast with time
and i want nothing permanent
to remind us that we're not.
i believe your mouth is a stormcloud
and i've always loved the rain,
how are you soft electricity
like a lightbulb wrapped in velvet?

[circuits and veins, we are a design
meant purely for ocean winds, love.]

dear me:

you spend hours carving names
into your heart like a bad joke,
but you've put it away now
set softly on a tabletop somewhere
mid-Atlantic
and you can breathe again.
ask yourself how you'll manage--

[answer that you don't care.]

things to be Undone

2011-04-08T13:56:00.000-07:00

i am a reactor,
violent fever
and i fit snugly between tendons
like night air,
smoke in a wineglass
and we are seething;

[seek us out in the stars,
obscurity and galaxy]

i speak straight into veins,
words a heady obsession
and you love what they do
to your breathing;
you know our hands
are a ridiculous
stunning
contrast
and i can't get enough--

[can you feel us?
we shake in tandem.]

back to Multiplication.

2011-04-03T10:02:00.000-07:00

stifling,
oxygen is a scandal
just off your lips
new like the world
but less like traffic--
inkonhands,
has no one told you we're an artist
dying for a brush of red,
wet on our bones like a
secret?
[keep it fresh, keep us here]

stack me up, i'm a library--
burn me down and breathe me in
ashes to the wind
is a dirty joke,
you will never fly
[how is your head, dear?]

pounding pavement,
praying for a prelude,
prolonging paragraphs of
pedantic parries--

perhaps we are beautiful,
and love, we are quite
in-finite.

when i haven't got the time

2011-03-26T18:27:00.000-07:00

i am repetitive,
and 'speechless' takes too long to write--
a gap between us is more temporary
than presence
because we are drawn,
like magnets or sketches,
bodies close and physics notwithstanding.

strings from fingertips to stars,
we are a heavy glass of evening
heady and incapable of smooth breath;
have you heard our spines lately
as they wrap dreamily around streetlamps?
they tell us that language
is a toy--

[and i talk like it's going out of style.]

there is no try, only do.

2011-03-23T19:52:00.000-07:00

possibly,
you are a second skin
or rather
you are a dream--
all the most comfortable things,
you are a comfort to me
darling.

possibly,
you have always been there
rain-soaked and wide-eyed
greengreengreen like velvet,
because i feel as though we've grown
upward and outward from bad weather--
sunrise-like, we wake up
together.

and possibly,
we are wheels or words or whimsical longing,
something permanent or
perpetual
as i'd like to be;
although we are fleeting,
we only decay at our own fixed rate and
i feel very much as though
we could be less like clouds and
more like atmosphere.

[and quite possibly, i'd like to hear your voice again every time you stop talking.]

CHANGE

2011-03-16T18:53:00.000-07:00

eyes closed,
how about we drink up
mid-afternoon skylines and
it's funny because we used to Be;
am i significant?

Call me in the middle of the day,
Heavy lids and heavy limbs,
All heady summertime and sidewalks;
Never do we climb glass stairs,
Going up--
Everywhere you are, i am not.

you are a paper airplane,
designed to fly--designed to fall;
four seconds of grace then you're a
car crash, bar fight, comedic relief
but it's in ill taste--
hot mess, you're just a Mess.

you know you're an outlet--

2011-03-13T21:15:00.000-07:00

to be blunt,
your lips are a train wreck and
i am elated to burn to death in the
spatial explosion your mouth on mine
inexplicably and consistently creates;
i am finding that we could be plaster
molded to perfection
and still not be in love, sweetheart,
and have you thought that maybe
it's all summer leaves and no
wind?

although you are green grass to my
sun-stormed sidewalk,
i have energy enough for the Atlantic
and i miss ocean-dipped fingertips
along my skin.
there is no 'us' except when we're alone
because we can't stop thinking about
the way our lips are built for each other,
petal-shaped flesh soft like air
but more than i've ever needed--

once again,
i miss your touch.

consistencies

2011-03-11T06:56:00.000-08:00

i know now that
if you want to bottle sunshine,
be prepared for storms:

proximity is just what it used to be
but More--
three hours is a long time in an opium den
but it makes me want to cry,
and the worst part is that you know
already.

[i hope my face makes you want to dive from a
Skyscraper
because it's the least i can do in return.]

this is where you stand.

2011-03-10T09:32:00.000-08:00

opportunities are not unlike cobwebs;
in all likelihood they were always there
and it's only when you brush them away
that you note their presence.
and you, with your bone-straight hair and
skin like soapstone,
you are a memory with a depression in the center
where happiness pooled like rain;
and in the end you are the only thing
i ever wanted to try
more than once.

but i'm here to tell you that
you're back, but you're not alone
and i won't let you be alone,
because i am not dependent anymore

[i move surrounded by things that i could live without, love
don't you know that breathing is an art form?]

and i've said it--

2011-03-06T18:26:00.000-08:00

i want to fall from the sky and land like a rock,

freefalling is the art of living and you've taught me well,
ongoing river of electric though you are;
round eyes are not a part of my day, i've learned to
guard myself well-- and there are some things
i can live without, things like sun and picture-perfect
veins, a highlight even in January, and as of right now
everything is forgotten.

your gaze will still inflict heatstroke like an
oceanside fire, but today i want you to know that
underneath my skin, blood still runs.

i can't quite stop.

2011-03-05T08:37:00.000-08:00

there was that time when
we danced on linoleum
sticky with spilled coffee
and we were a lovely couple
in a filthy little hole;
we hid stars in our pores and
laughed when people said we shone
and our greatest aspiration was
only slightly more than a dream.

your laugh was a degenerate thing,
not unlike a sewer rat in a bowtie;
it's funny, but only if you don't think about it.

i distinctly remember your smell,
and i find increasingly that i'd like not to;
twenty-four hours is more than enough time
to forget you if i try hard enough
and it is inexcusable that i haven't yet--

[i am inexcusable.]

i hate to say this,

2011-03-03T21:53:00.000-08:00

but i'm leaving your sun-starched cliffsides
burnt orange with time, and i'm leaving
your starry-explosion-oceanside
for a better view of my own insides,
all earth tones and matching palettes--

i am leaving you
for a better view
of myself.

--

the sound of bones popping makes me think of you--
you are marrow in my bloodstream,
deadly in a matter of seconds and god you hurt
when you go down.
you're a pill made of sandpaper and brambles,
painful to swallow and no good for the soul.

--

i want a change of scenery,
but even more i want physical harm--
let's hit each other until our brains bleed
because i love the way my cheek feels on gravel,
fill my veins with fire because i like the way it glows;

my passtime is imagining your face hitting rock bottom.

although i'm sure you've already noticed,

2011-03-03T07:55:00.000-08:00

i want you to know:

i notice every inch of discomfort you are ever in.
when it's cold outside i think of you.
when it's cold indoors i think of you.
on warm mornings i hope you're happy still
because, much like the sun as you are,
you still complain about the heat.
i associate you with celestial bodies of light,
and not just because your eyes look like a
deep-space nebula on days when they shift blue.
i am hypersensitive to your touch, and
wish you were as sensitive to mine.
i feel very much as though you were built
for another time or another place,
but am content to wrap my arms around you
here and now, regardless.
i think about you more than i'd like to admit.

i love you.

lessthanStable

2011-03-02T07:32:00.000-08:00

halfway home smells like honey and irony,
i could turn around and be farther than i started
but i could never remember where i'd come from
[except your skin, your skin, your skin]

please keep up, i cannot lie
you are a natural wonder and like a tourist
i would travel milesandmilesandmiles
to see the phenomenon your existence creates
[how could you know what an experience you've become?]

i may have a problem dear,
i simply cannot stop breathing your air--
proximity is a lightheaded drug to which i'm sadly addicted
and i haven't the heart to tell you
[don't be concerned, because i love you still]

touch is better than ecstasy,
touchisecstasy.

It's My Job, Baby, I've Gotta Go.

2011-03-01T19:59:00.000-08:00

you have to work to
stay alive to keep on
working for the hope
that someday we will
be broken bones and
dust in your eye on a
late summer day, we
haven't the slightest
idea what 'alive' can
be because we're all
working so hard to
be
dead.

true Blue melody

2011-02-06T15:33:00.000-08:00

setup:
this is a monday, cold and concise
softened at the edges by your sunrise grin;
let's get on an empty train
just for the sake of
going places Together.

remember how much i love your hands?
but your face is a thousand to one
and i want to be the one to tell you:

you have seasalt eyes and
sungold hair and
a heart like late july
[because i miss it when it's not around]
we are
an oceanside and city lights and
coffee at two a.m.
i feel most beautiful standing next to you.

let's go and not stop, drive until tomorrow
i wanna get out of here but even more
i wanna get with you
stargaze a hundred miles from your house,
don't forget me--

you me and the city dear,
we're a breath away from making it
but please don't go--
i like the way our hands fit together and
i think i love you.

intersecting planes and Us

2011-01-05T15:49:00.000-08:00

once upon any given place
we were so close there was friction in our absence
and there we stood,
overlooking our whole lives.

i say 'we' because, in combination, we have:
two homes,
four hands,
two voices
twenty-four ribs
too many eyelashes--
one perspective as we fall,
one as we fly,
one as we leap

[one heart and half the blood any two people should possess.]

Industrialize Me,
says the dreamer to the world:
Jump,
says the grounded to the sky--

We,
say the two on the skyscraper
on the fringe of permanence,
Are Only Where We've Been Falling So Far.

[Diving, says the observer,
Skyscrapers are built for Swan-Dives.]

the act of moving-

2011-01-03T18:27:00.000-08:00

i wrote a song a long time ago
about stale air and beautiful people.
it was wonderful in a
paper-in-the-atmosphere kind of way,
i-made-something-for-you;
my hands toil because
you are a work in progress.

i love you increasingly as i put you together,
you stand still like a model or
a tree, awaiting my touch--
won't you let me run my cold fingers
along perfect rose lips,
open my mouth against sharp collarbones,
leave dusty fingerprints where our hips lock?
how could you,
lightning-human as you've always been
and i confess;

i think i would like to be electrocuted
by your skin
every day
until i
die.

THATDAY

2010-06-11T11:14:00.000-07:00

it was all bones that day--
stripped down to nothing but calcium and marrow,
we couldn't even drink lemonade
without it burning out our intimacy.
we are so different,
you with your sky-eyes and
me with my earth-eyes,
you with your seabourne heart
and me with only my bones.
we
share
secrets
on
your
seashore--

like how what i hate the most
is that i pushed you out of
my entire imagination
that day,
no room for the weary
in rot-eaten boats
where nobody sings.

[i still write you letters--]

setting fire to Calendars.

2010-06-11T11:00:00.000-07:00

yesterday:

i was a victim of 5000 degrees soaked in putrid anticipation,
a heart attack all balled up in an ulcer taking a nap in my skull--
12-hour-shifts of screaming veins
losing everything but white-hot love/hate/indecision.
i was a stagnant industrial revolution
complete with bedsores,
smuggling memories into my Depression Lockdown
disguised as masochism.
there was still room
to be in love with you,
yesterday
in my car.

today:

i am doused in a rotten shade of yellow,
like pus from the bleeding sores my eyes have become,
unable to look away from the meticulously vile sunshine.
i am obsolete, dead weight in my own skin,
inviting bluebirds to eat out my unmotivated arteries
to make room for rejection.
i am very afraid that my eyelashes will turn to glass
and i will go blind--
i never want to see your beautiful face again;
i cannot wait to see you again.

tomorrow:

is a negative variable shot through my heart,
sitting uncomfortably in my crooked spine
just begging for a car crash or a
bar fight
[and i am eager to please]
i will still be an oil spill to your blue blue seas,
and i will always be VIOLET--
the bruised off-brand of your perfect cerulean.
we are miles apart
we are oceans apart
we are worlds apart because you are beautiful,
and i am not a tiger or a cyclone
and maybe i am not really a life,
either.

deep sentiments.

2010-04-17T20:01:00.000-07:00

i want you to know that you
should dig out my arteries and
fill them with plaster and rain--
i am sick of you,
and i am sick with you;
most of all,
i am sick without you.
[what a shame that we can't be
together.]

fragments.

2010-03-08T19:46:00.000-08:00

we'll burn up someday in a starstruck-explosion
eyelids acidic and heavy as the world.
we'll cry and paint our arms black
but it only means as much as
their killing laughter-
[you're only as good as the world will let you be]

--

you are the brightest night of the week,
a bedtime story wrapped in glass.
i don't admit that i want to kiss your
fingerprints
until our body heat melts them off--
identity is for cool afternoons
on a love-strewn seashore.

--

lately i cannot relate to natural disasters
because i feel tragically man-made--
i am an oil spill to your
cool, uninfected breeze.
everything about you is cerulean,
enough to make the sea envious
and it is lightning on my tongue,
potent and fleeting
like dead summertime.

lights.

2009-12-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

we all wish on empty nights

full of bright-lights-blank-faces-fast-paces

and we are getting old enough to see
the broken spiders on our

white plaster and

rubber soles

you were my only silkspun escape

to neverland

you dirty fucking liar.

sometiems i want to say something

so profound

it will tear back the nerves on

the surface of your brain

and blow

your

house

down.

this was always such a shame,

you beautiful

shitfaced

man

begging strangers for butterflies

and putting down stories like a backhanded sunset,
bonesbrokenribschoking.

sometimes,
to be nameless is to love
more than yourself.

PNS

2009-10-23T08:46:00.000-07:00

"stunning."

"hmm? what is?"

"it is. you. your hair."

"oh...thanks."

"....i wish you wouldn't do that."

"do what?"

"thank me."

"well...i'm sorry."

"no."

"no?"

"i believe you."

"then, i'm glad. what's bothering you?"

"me? nothing. except that the clouds are falling apart."

"no, it's more than that."

"how?"

"you're wearing red lipstick."

"yeah?"

"it's devastating."

"...yeah."

"so what is it?"

"maybe it's an End."

"an end? what's ending?"

"me."

"you aren't ending."

"this morning i forgot how to make my heart beat."

"but it was raining this morning."

"it was quiet. did you hear it?"

"hear what? the silence?"

"there was no thunder."

"yeah, you're right."

"...."

"what is it?"

"i envy your autonomic system."

"why?"

"because you don't have to think about it."

"but i have no control."

"look...it's raining."

"your lipstick is smudged."

"...yeah."

a tweet.

2009-10-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

i am just tweeting to say
i love you
and i am afraid to say it
but i am not afraid to
type it in my twitter box
for everyone but you to
see.

i've never had copper in my mouth
but around you everything is
copper-tinged and copper-tasting
and swiftly turning blue.

we could develope the sweetest migraines
the world has ever seen,
you and i and the intruding light
from my monitor.
we could twist brain stems around
eyelashes
and pretend we've seen Forever.

as nature goes,
rain turns into snow turns into ice
and you are in every stage
of my unfortunate osmosis.

miscellaneous

2009-08-23T11:56:00.000-07:00

dear you-

it is unfortunate that you are not an equation,
calm and cold and calculating,
all yellow and steel and answers.
i cannot imagine you because my throat is falling out,
unable to speak your name
now my dreams are all sand-and-butter lashes
and blue kites and
green hardware.
you are an End,
all wrapped up in a Man.

dear me-

your fingers will never callouse
and i tell you, the night breaths in more of you every time you close your eyes.
you are still cheating, still stealing,
still transperency at its finest.

you dress up like the ocean and pretend
there's something better,
waiting for you
even as the blood in your cheeks seeps out through lies.

how have you been sleeping?

dear x-

you are the final element, influence and beginnings,

you say you're such a wilting flower
but you tell us in turn that the wind is made of wrist bones,

clinking shyly together,
a chime of our own design
i wonder sometimes if you can hear my blood
slosh around in the empty spaces of my skull

the way i can.

equals.

2009-08-20T09:30:00.000-07:00

Hours of nitrogen in our bones
we melt like summer-shine petals and words of cracked pavement
lies and flies and falling.

tunnel vision:

butterscotch and porcelain and heat--

meanwhile i inhale the sun, implosions notwithstanding.

sense of Belonging.

2009-08-18T07:05:00.000-07:00

my memories of you smell like
twisted campfire
that does not belong to you
but i hope your hurricane eyes
drown you out
and we can be two of a
pair
of broken refugees
stealing room in ourselves
for another half-oxygen breath
of twilight.

if we asked you to forget the world,
you would say no every time
but every time i close my eyes
i forget a little more
of what you look like

[except your seabourne eyes--]

subtlety.

2009-08-14T14:35:00.000-07:00

sometimes we don't notice
splinters the size of lamp posts
lodged in our soft calves
but we forgive this
every time.

some parts are oxygen--

2009-08-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

i imagine you as dust
angry children kick up;

you are
on my lips
in my eyes
you cling to my hair
you are a layer upon my skin
you sit between my teeth
you are rough in my throat
vocal chords
lungs--

you are rapidly becoming
my
air.

a personal need.

2009-08-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

i am sick of saying
'we are this, you are that, i am--'
instead i watch water and grass
sparkle in lighthouse teeth
my elbows are softer now
and i miss you.

my body is different
without yours for company.
it is messy and foreign and
unwanted
and i can hardly feel my own
tendons
anymore.

you have taken away
breakfast and ankles
and i am not okay.

there is no day for this.

2009-08-03T16:54:00.000-07:00

happy is the resistance of cold air
between our chapped, tired lips.
it is the volume of our screaming
and our dreaming and redeeming
and sometimes on rainy mondays
it is the white sterility of medical
walls and the talk of drugs and
the underlying lies that jab at our
skin from beneath like
broken bones.

sad is at five in the morning
when i still haven't slept and i
honestly have nothing to do but
lie in bed and imagine how i might
be laying if you were there too.
today sad is the decrepit way
my fingers forget how to bend
to just the right shape in order
to conform to
yours.

opposites are a child's dream
they are glossy paint on green
unbroken lips and they are
swimming just beneath our
veins
white and red and
could-be's.

tiger lies and eyes.

2009-07-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

i want to be the one loose screw that causes you to collapse
because you are already a supernova in the depths of myself
but lately my dreams are sewage soaked and quite flammable
so i can turn up my nose, now, for i have found the tigers you
swore were hiding in my lonely retinas and pieces of wounds

[but you will always be the first to see them]

we are two parts suicide, one part skepticism.

2009-07-18T10:35:00.000-07:00

they say, tell me about him.

so i tell them about how:

your knuckles are a story of loss and work
and i like to press them against my
smooth, inexperienced
cheek
and laugh at the ridiculous contrast
i've created.

your worry is venemous and it
infects my limbs rapidly
dragging me down
with paranoia of my own.

your eyes glitter like an explosion
and i would burn to
death
in your gaze
because some things are better
than asphyxiation
from jumping off the Royal Gorge Bridge,
but not many.

your tears burn holes in my memory.

you are more than i
remember
every time i see you.
more:
handsome, caring, brilliant,
ridiculous, intruiging,
lovable
and i love you more every single time
and sometimes when i lay in bed i
wonder if i'll ever burst.

i never thought mowing lawns could be so
dangerous
so i worryandworryandworry
every day
that you won't come home
or that you'll return without a
limb
or an eye
or you'll be in a coma
when i see you next.

when i see the sky
i always think of you and your
obsession with storms
and sometimes i can see
the outline of what comes next
in that cloud you used to say
looked like a tornado cloud.

i tell them about how i love you
but you aren't the only one who
doesn't believe me.

leave the room to cry.

2009-07-15T16:48:00.001-07:00

today i cradled a pair of blades
in my tired, tired lap
and i cried, sobbed,
remembered.

i am cold fingerprints on
rain-flecked glasses and
i am ingesting all your shields
within my wicked bowels
so that when you next lay down
your bones will melt into my voice.

but you are an unstoppable
Force
and you can crumple Lives
with one look
and i love you but what really
matters here
is that he loves you
and somehow i am still
without a square
but searching for one in my own
retinas
because he told me he saw
tigers there, once.

my sidewalk is grown over like
childhood socks
and the sun makes it look as if
it is slowly decaying
and i imagine that's exactly how
i look in the sun:
rotting
soon
to
be
useless
even for you to walk on me.

misconception.

2009-07-12T08:27:00.000-07:00

today the fan feels like
the heavy thumpthump of a bass
in my marrow
and i am only disappointed to see
that it cannot reorganize my
eyelashes
into the shapes of Forever
or Always
or even Never.

now the chain clinks lightly
against lightbulbs
and i am light-headed.

i am in a pattern
of glass and brambles
and i find that i cannot fall asleep
until i have made myself sick
to my heart
because water should not drip
from my eyes
for such a broken cause.

remembering, your multiplication tables
are broken and deformed
like my lungs
because you think there are three of us
when there are only two
and i wonder how afraid you are
that there could be many more?
Infinity is terrifying
i should know.
don't worry though
i can put your math together again
it doesn't even need to sit
on a wall
for me to try.

but i want to write you 99 letters
explaining how much i Love you.

you are a hole through my lung.

2009-07-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

sometimes i miss the way your
ribcage holds me close
to your heart
or the way moonlight sits
or slides
on the curve of your neck
the way tragedy slides
from raindrops
hitting people, innocent or not.
or the way your hands
are strong like thunder
or the look in your eye
like after the rain melts.

sometimes i miss the way you
seem to think i'm beautiful.

i know you're wrong
because i know that whispers burn
our tired eyelids like acid
thin and screaming.

sometimes i miss the way you
pretend you don't have the most
beautiful face in the world.

they are all sick.

2009-06-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

you are plague

i slide incomplete thoughts under tinfoil fingernails
and wish in fragments tonight.
the sound of your breath is a cadence
to which i fall apart
and my pieces land on your skin
like broken scabs
of loss.
every moment i want to scream
because my voice is decaying
at the speed of light
alongside your heartbeat.

i am fever

a symptom against faded machinery
a system within a system within you
i never stand but crumple
into myself.
half-closed my eyelashes are a screen
and i make believe
i can see reality through them.
i make you believe
you can see me
and i make myself believe
i can too.

concave.

2009-06-17T14:32:00.000-07:00

when i fell into bed last night,
my stomach felt as though it were eating itself and everything else
it was mutiny
bodily conspiracy
and i wanted to claw my insides out
break every rib out of its Cage
always save the Heart for last
because it deserves to be Eaten.

my heartbeat was irregular like the freckles on my arms
less like glitter
more like the Plague
and as i heaved and sobbed my head collapsed in on me
so now you could never identify
me
if you found me in the river

i always said that asphyxiation from that jump
would have been beautiful
my favorite way to die.
my veins burning with adrenaline
wind tearing the skin on my face Backwards
no time for thoughts
silly, maybe.

i think about the curve of your mouth
and how i could never admit to liking it
even now.
and the way your eyes change colors
the way they change is like pollution
it makes me worse every time and there's no cleaning this up.
i'm not the only one.

i told you i wish you could have seen me
it seems like it was seventy three years ago
back when i was still trying

[i tried harder than anyone's hardest but i never could remember what for]

now i know i lied
because that's what people do.
i would give anything to make you forget last night
forget the way:

my sobbing kept me up until 2:30 when i was finally so exhausted i would have shot myself for a good night's sleep
i cried for something that i don't deserve to cry for
i cried at all because how embarrassing is that?
i joked about suicide in a way i couldn't tell was joking
you said you would never give up on me
i said i already have
i apologized for being horrid
you told me it was no one's fault
i woke up four hours later
i asked her if i could call her back but don't have the heart to

did you know i never dreamt about you until last night?

not once
i was never like that.

i wonder if you'll read this. part of me hopes you don't, aren't

that part of me is losing.

i deconstruct my thoughts at this Piano.

2009-06-13T23:50:00.000-07:00

somehow, with every window open and the sounds of Life
[[traffic,birds,laughter]]
Outside,
it feels like the very last day of the World
and if i dare to close my eyes it will never come
Again.

---

do you know,
every time i put that big
soft
leather jacket on
i feel like i'm six years old
wearing mommy's red
high heels.

---

i say, 'it should never happen'
you say, 'it is necessary'
i say, 'the situation could have been avoided'
you say, 'maybe not'
i say, 'it could have worked out'
you say, 'i don't think so'
you leave
i cry
again

---

every time i hear a
gunshot
i remember when i was seven
and there was blood
everywhere
and mommy yelling to go in the other room
like i couldn't already see
like she could pretend he fell
if i just left now
and didn't stop
to
stare.

---

sometimes i get angry
and i just feel like putting on my
little black dress
and red high heels
and going out to
Destroy men

---

the hurt when you're gone
will be like hail
in a hay field
it will throw me down
and come harvest time
i won't be useful anymore
and no one will
bother
to stand me back
UP

---

i wonder if he ever
stops
to see himself
and i wonder if he ever
stops at all
and i wonder if he has time
to breathe

in all the loving he does

and sometimes i even wonder
if the love will ever stop
seeing him.

Perry's Truck [thatDelicateBalance]

2009-06-10T07:40:00.000-07:00

Then and there, I decided that if I could live in a single moment forever, it would be that one. His truck had the soft, worn quality of home, the familiar comfort of a childhood blanket or toy, and a smell that was impossible to place but had every characteristic of a good couch: impossibly warm and soft, old somehow, and one you could sit in for hours without any urge to move. I curled up in my seat as if I'd grown up there, wearing a tanktop and loose sweatpants, hair in a pony like I'd just woken up even though it was past 9pm. One of My Chemical Romance's softer songs kept us company from the stereo, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the rich aroma that was my raspberry-caramel cappuccino.

He said, " I saw these guys in concert once," but the only important part was his voice, and the way I felt like I'd grown up hearing it. It was an old, dear friend that I'd only known for a few weeks and the soothing effect it held sank into my bones like the most welcome of all painkillers. I replied, my voice barely lifting above the music although it wasn't loud, and sipped the warm liquid from my cup. The heat slipped down my throat, flooding my body with a tingling kind of delight brought on only by hot caffeine. The soft music seemed to dance in the atmosphere and the streetlight behind us flickered, but never in a way that was interrupting. Outside my truck window the night was cool, but between the two of us and the music, the temperature was perfect.

I didn't dare glance at the clock although the numbers glared at me menacingly. Instead I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window and let the gentle sounds emanating from the stereo lull me into another place. The hard window supported my cheekbone in the most ironic way, and I stared ahead into the dark street in the hopes that if nothing moved, nothing would end.

To my dismay, a group of teenagers rounded the corner just as this thought registered, shattering the illusion that life could be this simply beautiful forever.

In the end I opened the heavy truck door and made my exit, but I felt as though I had been in the vehicle all night and it was a gentle form of comfort I had never felt before. Life can be found in the pretty little things--the way his voice diminished all stress, the way the wind didn't dare move but the streetlamp flickered sporadically, the smell and taste of coffee after a good cry. When I closed the door of his truck all those things disappeared, but I carry with me the calming feeling that it will be there always, and whenever I need it.

Like a good friend, like a homemade cookie, like an old CD.

It Stretched Out like the Rest of our Lives

2009-06-06T18:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I woke up to a brilliant, shining spectacle of a morning. I was groggy, but what lay ahead of me was sharp and clear: Rafting. Sun, friends, adventures. I had to rush to get ready, and this resulted in minor razor burn on my legs, but once I was out the door my spirits were blazing. I climbed into Josh's car and as soon as we picked everyone up we were racing down the highway, windows down, Swedish techno blaring. Halfway to River Runners and the volume was suddenly off as I listened to McBride tell me over the phone that they had gotten lost and had no idea where River Runners was. A few simple directions and broken speed limits later, we arrived, only to find out the trip would not start for another two hours. In distress, we searched for something to do and found:

Kiel.

Kiel, who works at the Royal Gorge park. After some begging, he called and got us [all of us, all seven of our loud, teenage asses] in for free. Carousel rides, phobias of heights, and a petting zoo ensued, and when it was all over, we rushed back to River Runners to suit up for our trip.

The wet suits were the worst. It took a ridiculous amount of pulling, tugging, jumping, squeezing, and pushing to get all of me into such an unforgiving material, and even when I was finally finished, the crotch of the suit refused to come up where it should have been. Wearing jiggly booties and a latex wetsuit, I did my best to saunter instead of waddle out to the car to throw my sweatpants and tanktop in the trunk, get my lifejacket and windbreaker on, and pile into the van. Driving to our destination, the summer day was splendid. The trees were a livid shade of green, the leaves big and ripe in the summer heat, and the sun cast its brightness over what seemed like everything in the world, making the gravel hot and blinding. When finally we arrived at the river's edge, the guide, Kc's father, got out and explained some basic safety rules concerning swimmers and flipped boats.

At long last we situated ourselves in the raft, took up a paddle, and began sailing down the river. The water turned and curved like a great, shimmering snake, and when we hit white water, it roared and twisted and rose and exploded at us, angrily rocking the raft and soaking us to our overcharged bones. At one point we were allowed to get out of the raft and go swimming, but swimming was absolutely the wrong term. It was more like being swept down the river, making a vain attempt not to hit our heads or be tossed too violently or have our legs ripped apart by rocks. It was insanely fun, but we sadly had time to do this only once on our trip. We piled back into the boat after watching McBride attempt to avoid two very large and very intimidating cacti on an equally narrow path, and off we went, paddling hard enough to leave our fingers sore the next morning.

When it was finally over, we went home, changed, and decided to have dinner at Village Inn, where our check was messed up and Perry ended up paying seventy dollars for the seven of us to eat. After much persuasion, I was convinced to play a spur-of-the-moment game of Manhunt. A lot of confusion occurred then, but when the game was finally set up and ready, we set off. I Chased first, and climbed my first fence. [Can you believe it? I have never climbed a fence before. My childhood was ridiculous.] Then Josh, Perry and I set up a jail, starting in the high school parking lot and moving to the Abbey, and eventually to Walmart. However, we ended up letting every single prisoner escape, and the game continued, surrounded by the crisp, energy-charged air of a late June night.

Kc had developed angry rashes on her legs and arms, and her throat was swollen, and it succeeded in frightening everyone present into watching her like a hawk to see if her condition changed, but when it came time for her to go home, she was mostly fine, and she was alive in the morning. We proceeded that night to Nick's house and watched The Lion King, and it was relaxing in a way only Disney movies and sore muscles can ever make a person.

All in all, much was discovered that night, and many memories were made, in hearts and hands and heads, and we rest easily with sun just beneath our eyelids.

Until next time.

You may begin. {run with wings outspread}

2009-06-03T14:27:00.000-07:00

The first month. The month that entails wild parties practically reeking of Peter Pan complexes, week-long road trips with friends just because you can even without solid planning, bonfires that shoot high, fueled by the year's Geometry binders and history notes and English reports. The month that consists of late storms, late mornings, and even later nights. The month of three-second plans, spur-of-the-moment ideas, and adventures you'll be talking about years from now.

This is June, in all its reckless, untamed glory. This is the beginning of summer, a three-month taste of the rest of your life. We forget responsibility, logic, caution, and all sense of self control as we charge forth in this world toward our lives, where reality meets reason and dreams are a form of conscience

It is in this month of total abandon that I choose to begin documentation in the form of Words. What better way to recount the excitement, energy, passion, and love that will certainly be my life for the next three months? Small things, tremendous moments, unbelievable circumstances...

all will be written here, from my heart and hand.

But to what end? Perhaps my children will read my Words decades from today. Perhaps I will find myself looking back and remembering what Was, because everyone has

to take a break sometimes from what Is. Perhaps every Word and photograph will be forgotten, lost to all who would ever care and even to those who wouldn't.But this is a month of possibilities. This month, and this life alike. So for all the possibilities, I Write. And for all other writers, it is Possible.