Sainthood

Poetry; A saints knife.
Because I could have killed you,
a million years ago,
instead, I write.

goodnight

This is the most miserable world to fall in love in.
I imagine falling in love on the moon would be so much better.
at least on the moon,
no one wants to kill you twice.

but here,
everyone drools over their chance to kill you three times,
(at least.)

Now you've got what you've wanted,
let me sleep in peace.

sticks and stones

Call me names,
You've never once called me my own.
And for some reason,
I love it,
I love that you've never known me.

PROMISE

I wonder if I knew
knew what was to become of my heart
after the layers had been shed,
after the disaster hit,
after my brain melted into a scary stew.
I never want to feel another person waiting on me to sleep,
waiting for me to feel peaceful.
so they can close their own eyes,
and share dreaming space with me.

I never want a man that close to my dreams ever again.

I remember the sunshine,
seen straight through the veins of a maple leaf,
the sugary taste of fall,
the nutmeg high I sailed upon.
It comes and goes every now and then,
and in those moments,
I convince myself
love is all I need.

But then,
truth-
riding upon a deadly tsunami,
like the clap of mortality
ringing throughout my souls kingdom,
sweeping my feet from under my knees,
and landing me straight on my head
truth-
decides to appear,
reminding me;
in the blissful fall,
when I used to love,
where I used to trust,

I made my biggest mistake,

Unguarded, and in love,
I twisted my fingers in his earthy hair.
Promised him my heart,
and floating like a skin cell I could so easily shake,
my words stick to the grass,
my heart buried 10,000 feet below,
kept in a box,
marked "PROMISE".
A promise I made with my eyes closed tightly,
And even still,
no matter how dark my vision became within each blink,
I could see the clouds move,
just by feeling the shifts in the wind.
I didn't need to see,
to know I was telling the truth,
but the devil knows,
he was crossing his fingers the second he promised back.
So, no,
seasonal love,
no,
beautiful man
I don't trust your love,
or his love,
or any love.
I trust the company I keep between my hands and this paper,
my lungs and this air,
and that is all that remains certain.
there is no one,
no matter how bold,
no matter how beloved,
no matter how beautiful.
All I can do is feed off of the hearts that promised themselves to me,
700 hearts buried 10,000 feet below me
marked "PROMISE"
I crossed my fingers
as they closed their eyes so tight,

and all I wanted was to feel again,

700 hearts promised to me,
until I can bargain, haggle and bribe...
Until I find the price of my own.

I knew a girl named Iris

Iris,
Don't you dare turn your back on us now,
I can see you living from memories,
they decorate the cracks of your brain,
they feed any roaring hunger, any desire to love again.
Your feet, they are bloody, and peeling at the edge,
But you are beautiful, and there are roots sprouting
from the darkness within the depth of the cuts,
I see you are walking with a crooked mouth limp.
You're shark eyed, and fiercely quiet,
But I can see the overwhelming fear,
playing the chords within your brain,
like a bee, flying stinger first across a harp,
You recognize nothing now,
almost like the world is hiding
behind glasses and a false mustache.
You are hardly misguided,
You only want to lay in a field of weeds,
purple wildflowers,
and alarmingly large ants.
They are hungry,
and I know you wouldn't mind,
laying out your mind like a picnic to steal.
You decide to watch the sunset,
but you wish to see it, how a bird would-
only mildly confused, and here you stand,
on the gut of this rock,
tilting your brain,
until you can hear your thoughts rattle.
You smile, close your eyes,
and only you can see the flood of thoughts
crushing the buildings your mind had built,
to dam up, and lock away.
You open your eyes,
Look at me,
and I say-
Iris,
don't you dare turn your back on me now.

Double

I am a home body,
I love the way my house smells at night,
the way the lights frame the mess in my room.
I like the way the books look on my shelves,
like they've never been read,
covered in skin cells, and stained with dark tea.
I took my first steps here,
which is a heavy burden for one building to carry for 19 years,
I have laid face first in the carpets
sobbing,
regretting moments,
which, took place within the squares of these rooms.
The walls know so many of my dirty little secrets,
and I fear that one day,
I will take my first steps into loneliness,
and the second I turn my back, it will be gone.
Here is where I have housed orphans,
and I have stayed awake
long enough to see the sunrise
from the corners of these windows.
And on the street beneath it's withering foundation
I kissed the first boy I ever loved.
and on the same street,
I clumsily told him just how much I loved him.
And if I let go of this house,
I feel like I'm letting go of everything I can still hold onto.
The only solid I've come to know.
I think I would rather it die a terrible death
at the hands of termites and rude ants,
than ever let it die at the hands of a man and his saw.

The release of a dozen balloons

Shamelessly shouting at the horizon,

"I ain't scared!"

But little one,
what have you to fear?
The sun, he passes every night,
shakes his dreary head,
he frees the world of daytime troubles,
of daytime fears.
Gathering under the drops of sun,
like lemon candies in my hand,
I'd see you here writing poetry,
heavy like a safe filled with yesterdays secrets,
but with every dotted "i" and every crossed "t"
I knew you were doing something,
but I didn't want you to love me.

Shamelessly shouting at the ground,

"I aint scared!"

But what have you to fear?
It won't swallow you whole,
at least we know that.
There's so little we don't understand,
and so much we've grown to hate,
and what it is
is consuming us,
beneath it's sealed metal plates.
here we've learned to rot,
and it was here we took our first steps,
as sighing, dancing lovers,
and i knew you were sighing,
and I could feel the spring in your step,
but I didn't mean for you to love me,

And if you chose to fear something,
Silently, or on blast.
let it be love,
because it will take you whole,
oh, she will take you whole.

if you ever feel like-
putting yourself on blast
kissing a lamp
feeling your legs
jumping out of a car
twisting your neck until it breaks
fighting ants
lulling sheep
writing nonsense

then you and I-
are twins.

Angel

The woman I know
bathes in uncertain pools,
and shifts her dirty, sun stitched skin
in swamps of sweat left behind by her traveling entourage.
She has no home,
and I envy her, but only for that.
She smells
like urine, and train track tar,
she is the queen of the night,
because at night, there is no sun
to highlight her unhealthy glow,
and there is no sun, to melt her work,
into tiny puddles,
only causing her to desire another bath
in the rust of her metal.
In the blood of her work.
her permiscuous ego,
shaded with fear and tiring lonesome trips
back and forth to the watering hole,
like a buffalo on speed.
but that is only a sneak peak,
I could never get to know that part.
I only am permitted to see the hercules painted across her chest,
etched with sincere anger,
I can see the intense stabbing her tattoo artist inflicted upon her chest.
He must have loved her,
because the lines grow thick with rage,
and soft with forgiveness in the same second of etched emotion.
I can picture her:
then-
Tanned skin, less remorseful,
soft lips,
less scabbed
but still,
swearing,
but more,
forgiving,
more,
youthful,
She is the reason all cats would purr,
and I know,
before the smell,
before the overwhelming hate of men,
she was why men loved.
I see her in passing-
now,
while she lifts heavy things,
She swears at me,
in an uplifting, preachy sort of way.
Tells me what I NEED.
as if I didn't know.
She grabs my hand,
not out of anger,
but out of respect,
we ran from the same tribe,
and the both of us
though, entirely different,
are still running from something,
making us bold.
but she answers to no one.
and speaks only to me,
and for that,
I envy no one.
but me.

"Th"

Oh sun,
can't you peak?
can't you slam your grace through these clouds
a little harder now?

You're not even trying,

and I am here,
giving it everything I can,
giving you a thousand reasons to shine heavily
upon my pale, roofed skin.
I don't even know how to be awake anymore.
I stumble everywhere
with my feet, connected to wires,
the marionette master has been shifting me-
strangely.
like I've been at sea for years.
I suppose I have been,
lost for months,
in the security of warmth,
overwhelmed with my passion for forgetting earth.
At least I can speak.
At last I can speak,
But the sincerity of years of dammed up pain
ruins any chance to daydream.
"Th".
That's what I say,
tongue carresing my two front teeth,
making love to the pearl within.
It becomes apparent-
I no longer know how to speak or move,
unless it's a dream.

Easily Refused

I am feeling further and further away,
from the isolated vacation, I beyond deserve.
I understand-
Here I am, ribbons, and blue.
Easily rescued,
easily used.
I am a cat,
you skin, and wear.
proud on your body,
when you feel less than,
when you're lacking the social skills,
when you're lacking funds,
I am your reason.

Here I am,
easily refused.
Dining all alone,
in nothing but flesh, and bone.

Irresponsible and alive

You are an irresponsible man,
You shed your skin like a thin coat.
Indecisive,
when you find a beautiful fur,
you cuddle with it,
close enough to feel the fibers embedding their sharp ends
deep within the root of your screaming pore.
You are the wolf from which the sheep flee,
well disguised, and easily tainted.
you are a sheep, from which you, yourself flees.
You grow so tired of feeling the same,
You hate being seemingly seamless,
so you rip the threads of a foundation you've hardly laid,
Standing, naked, between the mirror and yourself,
you speak to yourself, like a long lost lover-
You stand still,
touching your veins to the cold glass.
For a brief moment, you recognize yourself,
naked, and casually grey.
You are an irresponsible man,
how could you become
someone else?
when all you were meant to be,
was you.