Hot Chocolate and Redemption"Because I'm a bad person, that's why."Tammy's words stunned Ryan into silence. They'd had three good dates, and now this was her reason why she wouldn't go out on a fourth date. She'd been nothing but awesome, and this seemingly irrational rationale for rejection had him curious."I've seen you do nothing bad. You've been great with me." He leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of the coffeehouse's mocha hot chocolate. Her expression had hardened in a way he'd never seen before."That's because I don't let you see that side of me, Ryan. Listen, you were really sweet and persistent which is why I went out with you, but I'm cutting this off before it goes too far. I don't want to hurt you, and this will hurt less than you finding out what I'm really like." He noticed her hardened expression and flat tone shifted slightly during the last sentence, and they both showed him some pain. He decided to play the card she'd just handed him."If you're so horrible, why be ni
dwindletown night trainexcruciatingto dwindle unconvincedseeping in minutestowardsradioactive peaceful slumbertragic-laced sweetenerswhipped in icingfrosting the filial pillushered down a throatupon father fatality'scall to communionall cry to this momentreleasepossibilitysomberunknownwith every waking motionon every single sunriseall accomplishmentsmust be inked indeliblein the nowno blossomflowers the sameafter snowfallinevitable tracknon-stop masterwe let the fearwind usto heavens too farprayand enjoythe whistle
Peaches and LemonShe was unrecognizable.I knew exactly who she was, but only because I knew her back before she decided not to be just another unrecognizable girl.For a long while, everyone knew her. She couldn't set foot in this town without a 'hey', 'how are ya', or a 'great to have you back'. Now it seemed she rated more of a glance and dismissal.But, yes, I remember when she decided that it was all about being known and being popular. We were just kids, mind you, barely teens, when she came into my yard."Artie?""Ya, Peaches?" I called her that ever since I caught her taking a peach off one of our front yard peach tree a few years prior."I don't want to be Rachel anymore. I want to be Raquel." She always had a dramatic way of saying things, and she added a lot of, I guess you'd say, flourish to the way she said her new name."Oh, okay, Peaches. I'll let everyone know.""You're no help and no fun."She was wrong on both counts.Well, maybe not on the second count.
petaled memories of a younger dreamerI miss the dayswhen I thought girlsfelt like roses,and the rainwas my worst enemyI thought I'd neverunderstand a soliloquyin all its purpose andadulthood still loomeda distant thundering possibilitythe open roadwas a hobbyflipping cassettes in a carthat's no longer madeon a longer mountain roadthe time of lifewhen you believe finallyin what you never knewyou believed and friendslived wide hung closeI miss those dayswhen getting olderfelt new and whenI anticipated my firsttouch of a rose
Noticed in CommittingI started committing suicides. They were small at first, but more grandiose as the months passed.At first, I came up with basics: wrist slashing, hanging, overdose, jumping off a building, and stepping off in front of bus. They were all very mundane, really, and if not done properly you just end up living very, very painfully. It was after those routine ways to snuff oneself that I began to get creative.There was going into a biker bar nude and starting fights with drunk bikers. And when I say "fights", I mean with a knife in my hand. That was a fun night. Everyone was freaked out and angry at the same time. They all wanted to kill me, but they didn't want to touch me either. Eventually, though, they did.Oh, another good one was sneaking into one of those giant dump trucks at a quarry and letting them dump tons of excavated rocks on me. The driver of the loader always sees you just as it's too late and tries to stop the load.
she shall inherit"Your meekness is sensual."The words caught her off guard, especially since she had been lost in her normal reverie: the imaginary world she lived in while walking, shopping and eating among the throbbing crowds of citizens that packed this city from wall to wall during business hours. But they caught her off-guard in another way, and it took her a second to realize it. For some reason, she wasn't offended at being called "meek" by a complete stranger. It was true, but that doesn't mean a stranger should address it. Maybe it was because of the suave and confident way he delivered the sentence. Maybe it was his Ivy-League good looks and high-end business suit. Maybe it was the calm, slightly smiling expression on his face. She didn't know. But she wanted to hear him explain what he meant.So, she put down her paper cup of tea and just looked back at him through her slightly too-thick glasses. He started to look somewhat familiar, b
stay upnight flies over landsleeping dreamsworries aspirations uncertaintycurled up under coverssome survive in darkkeeping wheels in motionor haunted by memoriesa graceful odd collageprelight awakeningsjumble the dim peacebringing electricityto silent linesthe night closes shopdelights hidden by sunmajority risingthe magnificent go to slumber(dedicated to all of us who would choose to live after the sun sets)
I, (a creature of night, with knife) wouldstab minutesto slow timeslice demon fleshto bring heatpuncture decencyto flush out truthreflect dawnlightto find homestrip willow barkto drink tearscarve a hollow in herto store lovesacrifice a heartto bring favor
Living AnticipationWhat she craved was hunger. It took a semester for me to learn that.She was an exchange student from Italy, a college sophomore, and I was a grad student assisting her ESL class. The class was mandatory her first semester in the States, but she didn't need it. She didn't need a tutor, either.So, we were lovers.Every Wednesday, in my far away apartment in Brooklyn, we met and made. Every Wednesday, she would arrive on the N train from Manhattan and let herself in. I left the door unlocked all day, because she would never give me a time. Answering her phone was her lowest priority. All the world could wait for her, it seemed to me. When she arrived, it was always with a kiss. There were hardly any words at first, just her on her toes and me leaning down to meet her. She was 5 foot tall and all of nothing in weight, and never would I call her beautiful. She was pretty: olive skin and brown hair on youthful frame. Her ac
Like Cartoon LoversHe strums his guitaroutside the art shop, waitingfor her as he singsabout lost country roadsand crucified thievesfinding redemption,his mucked boots scuffingthe sidewalk.She comes outduring her smoke break—skirt fluttering about her legs,head haloed by a red bandana,sandled feet displayinga pentagram tattooabove her toes.Her fingers go to the beadsaround her neck and slip thembetween her teeth, rollingthem with her tongue,her lips curving intoa slanted smile.He stops strumming,and they head to the backof the shop.His kisses fill her up.Bubbles erupt inside atthe sound of his Southern drawlas he tells her thathe’s stopped going to churchbecause all he does is stareinto the stained glass paintingsand drift off into his ownversion of heaven.That’s funny, she says,because lately I’ve beenthinking of going.He leans forwardand clenches her beadsbetween his teeth, tasting her,and she places his cowboy haton her head.Someday, he
list(en)out-of-tune guitar stringsthe pad of barefoot feeta tickle of calloused fingerslaughter lostin a maze of sheetsthe smell of morningand silence in ceilingsinterrupted thoughtsby softsleep breathingand the yawn of a curtainless windowthe sky in the eyes of a comforter-warm room, fresh blueholding all precious thingsyoudon't you dare leave mealone
tense intentionsiv.you lurk behind my sternum andlace my uneasy breaths withdoubt and self-deprecation, Ican't breathe. Iguess I didn't need to sleep.ii.I am smudged in between the lies,an asymmetric astrology chartmapping misguided dreamswhen you make a wish on me,I sell away another piece(I wish I were my own)v.it was always me, it was alwaysthe blood clotting in my heartand words coagulating on mytongue – I swallow cyanide tovomit up my narcissistic tendenciesiii.it was nothing that ever matteredwhen the dust settled and youcould finally remember my name(and you settled down into my bonesdeciding I was hollow enough for a stay)vi.I will never leavei.but I warned you my poetic dedicationswere never pretty
DreamHave you ever worshipped a glowing sunset?Have you ever tasted a poisoned lip?Did you ever dream in vainWith hardship through the rain?Gaze the turquoise mystic horizonAnd the thwarted snow-white cloudsDream for the Ever FreeFor the thawing souls.For the world.And you will realize, oh dear friendOur paths are to cross through the valley,Fill the hearts of our beloved ones.The world as we know it shall change
Dream through the skyYour reality is mine
All through the skyFor the record of life
ComfortComfortTo me it is sunshine and blue skies...It's reading a book in a field of daisiesBut it's also something I never expectedNever imaginedIt's his smile, touch, spiritEverything about him radiates peace and love
It still blows me away he even looked my wayI feel so safe around him
and I am not afraidTo be who I am and to tell him everythingOthers find it crazyBut to me it's so simpleSo clearMy love for him will never disappearNor will my comfort
Keep The Lights OnKeep the lights on-I don't think I could ever tell you how beautiful you are, so I will just have to show you-oh please let me show you I want you to feel how beautiful you are I want you to knowI will make you know Feel me and let it all out Sigh for me and kiss me andfill your eyes up with longing as I pull my head back to look at you before divingback down to kiss you again I will show you I will show you I will showYouaresobeautiful.
haiku- some girl's fantasyform under satinsleeps, waiting for rough hands' grab,take push fill, coddle
I broke her at noonI broke her at noon.It was one of those fall days where it's still warm, but the smell of autumn tingles your brain as it seeps in your nose unseen. Her apartment on Hollywood Boulevard could be mine if I wanted it, but it all seemed to be too much for too little: a tight space for a big name. And while I'd had fun with the game, it was over.We'd played for months. She would never call me back, and then when all seemed lost she would call in the frantic need to talk to me. To talk to me about them. And that's what I swam in when she pulled me into her pool of porcelain ghosts of men who I knew nothing about; I swam in their clinky, creepy aftermath. She was in pieces, and I was dancing between the delicacy of these easily shattered icons she erected in her memory of them.Last night, when she called, I would not come. Later last night, when she called, I would not come.After midnight, when she called beggi
would youYou would think that kissing a poet would be different,that in that moment,your souls would touch and sizzle like fire and water,that a gateway between minds would expandinto being,and you would share the deepened imagesoutlined in words, words, wordsto give them definitionthat only poets' minds can see.You would think...You would imagine that in tiny valleysof each puckered lipwould reign the fertile soil of concept,expelling long planted ideas as they met,a wicked cross pollination of images,blossoming into new species that bathed inthe tropical heat-moisture of human contact.A natural spreading of the seeds, stanzaand rhyme.You would imagine...You would hope that even after your eyes slid closed,you could still see, perfect images of dreamscreated and those awaiting creation,awaiting that sensitive opening touch,that understanding slowly sailing outwardon the unique scent of your body,a bright and glistening dreamexisting in the eternal spacebetween your
You Forget.Doors close and sometimes they don't openand you might be trapped in a dark roombut that doesn't mean that there isn't any light outsideIt's a shame to see you go, I don't want to forget youBut everything's forgotten in the endthe feeling fades and soon you can't remember the dayor the monthor the yearmuch less the moment.You forget, and that's humanity's tragic downfall.You forget.You forget.You forget.It won't be long now, it won't be long until you're gonebut I'm begging you not to goPlease don't go, please don't leave before it's startedYou're floating away and it's not fair,nothing about this is fairand my heart is shattering and splinteringand I can't grasp the pieces quickly enoughI can't gather them allBut maybe a piece will get stuck with youand then you can take care of it from wherever you are(I hope it's nice there, please let it be nice.)so I guess that's okayIt won't be long now, it won't be long until you're goneAnd I won't forget youI w
Lend me a kissLend me your sweet lipsGive me a soft kissStay with me till the endLet's stop playing pretendDon't let my heart breakLet's learn from our mistakesI'll let your love embraceMend me with your lovely graceThey never leave my mindYour cherry colored lipsThe roses that I have pickedAnd the sweetness that one day I'll kiss
They FallYour eyes melted into the skyas jellyfish illuminate the night,cosmic bodies, they fall to earthbecoming alien beauties.
icaruslast nightI found the curve of a lunar eclipsein my spine, indentationsleft by Daedalus in my shoulders,the constellations wired stitches(dead ends)for my broken wrists—I've always wanted to see a sunsetfrom the sky, watch the cloudsfade, formless,(my fingers are too rough tocatch them in my palms)they roll over each otheras mortal oceans,if I can see the worldblacken when I'm in the sky,(incantations)I've sewn on mechanical wings andwe're just waiting for the sun to melt us to wax.
DFC Day 2: MarieOf calm and quiet breath, she waitstrusting, atop her stable ocean's bedwhere salty whispers gently guide her headand drag her down with their assented bait;but still, her lungs weigh down like lead.(she smiles, the waves plunder her teeththe fish consume her eyes, and yet she singsthem lullabies) She lives all her endingsagain, to make them new, to dream-repeatthe memories before her mute drowning.They ask her, darling, dive lowershe sleeps, she longs, she breathes once more --she cries (her tears divide the ocean floor.)The water-logged prey lent her voice today,now it complies with the whispered tides.
A Thousand Needles"Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far?"The corner of Will's mouth curves into a contemptuous smirk. "No, doc, I don't," he says."See? He just won't stop!" Nina's face is flushed and sickly from sleepless nights and crying. She's a pitiful imagewasted, tired, desperate.And Will laughs at her, unable to control himself. Dr. Willoughby looks down at the piece of scratch notebook paper before him, once again observing the gruesome image of the mutilated infant doodled upon it with the words "mommy no love me" scrawled across the top. He leans back against his cushioned chair, removing his glasses and touching his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. Then he sighs, weary. It's easy to see he's on the verge of giving up. After six straight weeks of morbid artwork, obscene language, sardonic jokes, and nightmares, he's about ready to seek a doctor himself. "How you can laugh at this is beyond me," he finally says."How you can say I'm taking this 'a bit
we should celebratei.i tried to think of pain as a flower,first it blossoms and then it wilts away.but i won't let myself disappearalong with it,i won'tgive you that. (it's not the agony that makesme scream, it's the flavor).ii.and you whispered softly"i'll rip your heart out and replace itwith a song,it's christmas soon, andwe should celebrate". you've always used my scars as a calendar, as a way to remind yourself "today is tuesday and i still exist".iii.(it's morning now becausei can seethe sunlightthrough my eyelidsand imaginea bright summer day,the flowers arebeautiful,sodamnbeautiful).
CyberbulliesI know you, but you don't know me.I know what I've heard, and I know what I've seen.You're such a slut (at least that's how it'll seem)I'll spit at you with hatred until you start to bleed.I know where you've been and I know what you've done.I know who you are... now let's have some fun."Did you hear about that girl?""Yeah. She's so disgusting."I know you, and I know where to call.I know you, but you don't know me at all.I'll dial your number, and hey, it's ringing!I can't wait to hear your cries singing."Hello?""Slut." "Whore." "Freak." "Weirdo." "Loser."*click*Well, you're all mine now, so where do i start?I know! I'll start at the back of your heart.That guy that you like? Well, we'll pretend we're him.What should we make him say? Oh, where to begin?"You're so ugly." "Anorexic!" "Do you always look this bad?"Next day at school, and you didn't show up.The teacher comes in with a horrible look."Remember Marie?"Everyone stares."She killed herself. Last ni
UnknownI'd listen to radio signalsBut all I'd hear is chlorine bleached staticThat leaves a the bitter taste of Advil in my thoughtsDrugged up in an anaesthetic haze of morphine induced comatoseI'd clench my teeth to stop the florescent vowelsFrom escaping my insomniac lipsI've chewed them shut and pasted book spines on my ribcageIn an attempt to be something organic and interestingBecause the plain Jane exterior I've laced between my iris'sIs becoming a contradiction of what little sanity I possess
If you love her...lookpasttired feetand the hop-scotch marksof timethrough binding fearsof the last loverto wrong herunderbrilliant layersof preservation appliedin mirrored morning tasksintothe little girlwho wants to ask youto hold her good-night