shnookie

I've been holding time back

just to see us again.

the times I keep framed

like a blurry polaroid

on the corner of my desk.

I keep it there,

so time can dust it,

and let it fall.

I've got an empire in my mind,

it explores the shelves of my brain

highlighting the shadows

that remain untouched,

unsold

unfiltered

by the corruption of the needless people

who tell me

I'm no good.

You never told me that.

you never once questioned

my love.

my heart

my mind.

But I'm no good.

The fan keeps blowing

because I'm a machine that is just too hot.

overheating, because the wires

just don't fit.

I can see you loving her

but, I can hear you

loving me.

I'll be back soon.

When my heart takes a brief nap.

a much needed vacation.

I'll wake up

with a heart touching sandy shores.

if this is love

why do I keep waiting?

keep wilting.

I keep waiting to fuck things up.

to let him be my muse

and destroy him

with my Mayan wit.

But

some things,

are just meant to be.

and somethings

need a little push.

so here's the slide

to my heart.

hold on,

it gets quick.

I left my heart on the milky way last night

Sleep til 3:06 pm.

I don't mind.

I ran into you last night,

covered in fog, and twilight.

I know you were real

I could see the milky way

in your beautiful blues.

That's how I know.

Sleep, is selfish

and my heart, is worse.

when I wake,

there are dotted lines

marking the spot

where my heart

used to be.

Thinking with two brains.

telling me

two heads are better than one.

My darling,

one thinks

the other acts.

I am

in

a

new

world.

The night is murderous.

I've parked my skin under the same sky

for the past 3 months.

I collect myself near the corners of my house

that have never been touched by past memories

that sting my already salted wounds.

(already assaulted wounds).

I can tell that I'm ready,

feet barely touching the wooden slabs

feet barely touching earth.

the cracks in the walls

are whispering.

the wind blows straight through them,

straight through us,

until we can end our conversations

with conversations on end.

I don't want to smoke anymore

this whole, dying thing really gets old.

I keep hearing from several people

that if I keep this up

I'm going to die.

If I keep living

I will die.

Holding

Waiting in lines for purchases I can't afford.

I must be in love,

because my patience is starting to appear.

I'm gunna kill me a mockingbird

The history of my insecurities paint a larger picture now

I can only hear the jazzy thumps

of our agreed satisfaction

in my nightmares now.

There is nothing to hide anymore,

I am a beautiful woman,

You are a terrifying soul sucker,

and I refuse to let your jaded sense of tasteless fashion

overcome the static I've placed between us.

power by numbers

I have wall flowers

streaming down the neck

of my pencil thin, ankle-boots.

Tombstone is hot.

I am melting into

a waxy cartoon version

of some sexy, urban, unrated

cowboy.

Licking my pearly whites

because I can't have

what I want.

Sweater Exchange

Reaching into the glassy midnight

I find myself indulging in the intimate moments

the night has created for us.

I allow myself to get nervous.

I can hardly hear over the pounding of my heart.

You must be begging to get in.

pounding, knocking, pounding.

And, I am ready to let you in.

pillow head

In restless sleep.

I clinch to a pillow

my hands

sweating in sleep,

and twitching in lonesome beats

create a man like

resemblance.

And I think I'm in love

with my pillow.

Lost dog

I have ridden myself

of everything you loved about me.

Just when I think

I have lost everything,

I remember,

you weren't me.

Tunnel Support

I need everything back,

so I can give it away again.

I'm not asking anymore,

I'm begging.

Here's my punchline

All of us hunger

for that moment.

when we chose

whether dying is our past

or dying is now.

My death is old news.

it's happened,

I've read the headlines.

I've circled the details

in fine, red pen.

I find is humorous

that my death

will end up in the funny papers.

knock knock.

who's there?

eternity and beyond.

Hell in December

Intimacy

of the soul.

Cannot exist,

without the soul that kept me wandering.

Wandering on the edge of sanity, just for the hell of it.

So it lie in pieces on the bed.

where the shadow of your warm embrace

mocks my cold skin.

Can I lose my mind now?

now that you're gone,

and she has stayed.

I find myself talking to my linens,

in an unhealthy,

delusional slur.

I keep asking them to take me back.

They are similar to you in one sense.

They say nothing.

Celebrate this

How could I ever love

your treasury of hate?

Sall Sells seashells by hell.

I used to know

a tacky girl

with white blonde hair

and shoes that never matched 

any color in the world.

She was always eating away

at the hearts of older, moldier men.

and I wonder how she sleeps at night

when they stroke her hair.

She had canyon pores 

and black toenails.

but she was loved.

which is more than I can say.

Birds and the me's.

We were so human, and our hands, would sweat.

Even after years of our shameless love,

butterflies sucker punched the lining of my stomach.

They begged me to choke.

Bee hives would consume

the vocal chord rhythm I created

In every hum I made

while you softly

draped your arms

around my velvet skin.

They prompted

my quick responses,

and slept soundly

after every

I love you passed.

And this,

this memory keeps me alive.