Deleted Message
I deleted your number from my phone I hope the absence of your name would officially end our connection String cut, a hanging thread I hope I can sew the valves of my heart shut to prevent this frivolous message from sending Throwing up words over a deleted text A spilled cup of milk White and foamy, expired Like a love letter never sent The absence of your presence in my life leaves me feeling sour I finally give up, putting down my phone, and I continue painting in silence I want to call you and wish you good night I want you to read between the lines I want to paint a pretty picture of you And in this moment of weakness, I feel a vibration in my pocket A new roll of thread And at the other end is a message from you
ROBIN
Blowing days scatter over months after the last time you left your cigarettes by my front porch You welcomed me into my own apartment Chiming in with a slamming door ….Tracking in dirt or snow, a blow A blackened cough after a long drag stains the ceiling gray ….A town full of nobodies, cardboard cutouts I could never forget your face though Fly aways tucked behind pierced ears, chaotic and unruly, begging to be brushed Away you looked, blue, with hope and bitterness in the pupils that watched the ants that inched down below And sometimes you’d squish them with your index and thumb and you’d laugh at how easy it was to be bigger How hard it was to be small You took the my cigarette from my hand and sucked on the nicotine Oil soaked the air Billowing over your shadow I watched them carry your dead body away
Everything In Between
Someone watches from my window sill, accompanied by the glow of the moon that giggles midconversation, interrupting my thoughts Water trickles into my bedroom and down the walls, each drop soaking the roots of my curls I must be drenched But I’m too focused on the rough scraping of my knees against the carpet as I try to find comfort by my bedside I awkwardly fold my hands, pressing them together, feeling the heat from my fingertips scorch my palms in this act of redemption This is humiliating But for some ungodly reason, I wish I did this more often Wet carpet and socks, I think Im beginning to talk to myself No, I must be talking to everything in between The codes that ring in the distance in between The distance in between me and everyone else This burning sensation I am rigged And yet again, I am talking to myself The blood between my knees and the carpet floats, I can smell the iron Waist deep with the window dark and the moon bright, I try again I’m not one for poetic monologues But tonight comes with a special audience The howling of the outside world trickles and the pattern of the water ripples I want to understand everything, I need to understand everything Because I don’t know anything But you, on the other hand, know so much It’s hard to be personal when I don’t know who I’m talking to I don’t even know your favorite color Can I even see your favorite color? Do we even have the same favorite color? Your audience believes in your transparent presence above the blue clouds But I can feel the grazing of your thumb against mine A soft voice, an echo And it reverberates against the cold walls and into this pool of uncertainty It washes me away Pulling me into the current, out of my window and into the night sky Muffled giggles and a quiet presence rise by my side I watch my shadow stay behind, glued to the dirt Trickling away from the surface and into a new dimension Where my interdimensional friends are waiting on the other side That is where the distance closes and I become one With the moon With you And with everything in between
High at the Beach
Crashing waves retreat into the great reef as I sit on the shoreline counting starfish Gentle kicks of sand cloud the horizon along with the long drag I just took Strangers play and dance together in the ocean, cackling at the flirtatious and violent moves of the wave I think to myself before slowly stumbling towards the shore, confused by the hypnotic movements of the figures But as I am left watching, shrinking, taken back, not by the rocking of their figures, but by the smoke surrounding me, the starfish withdraws and I am left alone I take another hit
Corpse
Pull out my shredded corpse from the narrow wet hole that watches over your meaningful existence Hold my matted hair back as I vomit my intestines out, crying for the blood to stop pouring over your cute new skirt Watch as my lifeless body rots on the couch that both of us shared our secrets on Stop me from tying a noose from yarn so I can meet my friends on the other side Let me feel this pain so I can finally answer the question I’ve been dying to find out
Mi Muñeca
My wrist tickles with blood and love With the clarity of a clear quartz, the lines sink into the skin, cleansing the black with white It was a mark of love, of family A memory stained permanent with the dull light that dangled above us, pajaritos picandonos Nuestros cuerpos, nuestras manos se pellizcan Back to that sweaty moment when we were intertwined with ink and laughter Con pensamientos de conexión y compromiso Tu siempre vas a estar conmigo Carved into my wrist with nowhere to go Pero en mi sangre, dónde el amor que compartimos yace cálido con el recuerdo del verano
NIL
The sky is a window with a depth behind it so deep The plump bottom that sat on the glass has already gotten bored of searching in the dark Plucking pink petals from their black hairline with pale hands Like yours and mine A spirit like a child With the curiosity of a bee And the face of a hole Pressed palms watch against the glass, daisies blooming, as someone down below searches For the words For the answer For the first time The fate of a Gods birth Barely born, forever young Holding the Earth right on the breast bone The graves they watered - a cathedral of spring flowers - a field Filled with death so wet and smelling of tears and iron so dry Suspended in pain Suspended in time Is where a God kept all who self destructed Self mutilated Those who buried the self Lighting a candle for all whos birthdays have passed since the day blood was last drawn Waiting for a bloom, a flower, a hand to be plucked Engine rolls to the beginning of a film Churning overexposed images scorching the retinas of those who watched white Matching the eyes that glew behind Together, watch your life unfold and roll past your feet Off the edge of the cold platform onto the lap of someone who knew how to love you The sugar breaks the molars as teeth clench to the memory where life was cradled A life just as sweet as moms breast milk As warm as the blue womb Just as sticky as fresh blood The blackness in the eye who stared back confessed “I do not want you to die yet” Staring at their overlapping toes Naively intertwined with the face of death Staying by your side, till the last breath was taken Holding your scars tenderly The dirt underneath their fingernails dig into your flesh Drawing blood Until enough was enough The cathedral decayed From the oversaturation of holy water Pouring into the grave From the hand like yours and mine The forget-me-nots crumble and distort into ash blowing Dancing in the wind Free for one last time Before the God pauses and moves on to the next Sitting on the glass with their round and warm bottom, the God watches from the window More human than they ever were More heard than they ever felt As the ant down below recited their story from a heart so hurt Full of wonder and woe They, too, were looking for a voice to kiss their cheek tenderly The clouds drifted by lethargically As one last petal fell from their temple Onto the glass Where the ash falls into the darkness behind That marked their face And stained their eyes white