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broken.my parents took me to the hospital because i never ate
and so the doctors fitted me in a baggy mint green dining gown
and wrapped my fingertips in band-aids
('cause all i ever nibbled were my nails).
they prepared a pharmaceutical feast
with non-breakable plates and plastic knives.
calories gave way to milligrams,
but xanax and prozac don't mix well
with apple juice.
distilled.and i just can't get over the fact
of how much you taste like whiskey
drenched in rain.
you're bitter and sharp and snide and wild
and i know just how far i should run away
and erase those periwinkle eyes,
but all i want to do is stand outside with you
at 3 am
hospital boy.my doctors took your name and bottled it up
in a plastic orange cylinder
and told me to swallow one utterance daily
the ignorant lot,
they forget i'm prone to
funny how a corpse is still wasting oxygen.i killed myself when i was six-years-old
one stormy night in a bathtub
filled with too much water.
i didn't know that at that same moment
my cat had gotten ran over
in the street
and my favorite tree
hadn't survived the storm.
i wonder why my parents are so content
living with a ghost.
i thought it was permanent.i always took my pills,
like a good little fuck-up,
whenever you came around,
so that when you fell onto my bed
i could fall asleep next to you.
i always pretended like we were dying
instead of sleeping...
but i guess one day you found your cure
and had no need of dead boys
numb.i'm left standing in the rain,
holding every death like a bouquet of flowers,
but damn aren't these daisies
right now it's raining outside.i take the things i love
and hold them tight like a rose beneath my fingers,
my knuckles manage to fade a whiter hue
and slowly the petals bleed,
and i'm left with the crumbled thorns
of painful regret.
they would have been better off
had i just let them
where do you fall when you fall in love?i see my voice curl toward the sky in crystal breaths
as i stand beneath the stars and ask the gods
"where do you fall when you fall in love?"
and in the distant thunder roars as zeus clears his throat.
lightening strikes to start a fire
and in anticipation i sit by the flames as he begins his story.
"love," he says, "is the beautiful medication
that we drink to still our pain,
but often it is overdosed
and we always end up crashing
like a star falling from my sky."
as i watch the shadows dance about his face
aphrodite proudly walks to us
with her golden grace and emerald eyes.
"there's a kingdom," she says with ivory verse, "just below the sea
and it awaits young lovers there
where they drown for all eternity."
at the mention of the sea, poseidon falls down to us
from his chariot atop the cliff and in his booming voice he declares;
"and in that cavern the butterflies are drenched
and with heavy wings they cannot fly
so they suffocate the lovers."
with the quietest gait of a clumsy fox
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
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