Monday, December 24, 2012


How far can empathy go? The path has run short of comfort and fell into insignificance. There are no such binding of words to mean more than pipe-blown smoke. Presence is my only offering. And the assurance that I will never deny grieving with lies of "good intention"

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

tell me your destination

Plastic orbs sustain
the brassy glowing halos
floating out,
all even spaced,
above the winding
shiny black plastic.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

There must be ice fixed inside my chest.
How I don't freeze,
for every time I looked away,
I don't know.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Maybe we're all affected in the same way.

the coffee cup evidence.
Remember when
it mattered
if your mom knew
we snuck out
and walked
all the same places,
only in darkness,
it always felt greater
than daylight.
Remember that time
we tried that shortcut
through that corn field
near that gas station.
And I ran because
you scared me
and you ran to
catch me

Saturday, November 10, 2012

That had to be a different lifetime

The lone little girl
grows up in a neighborhood of boys,
finds herself wading through streams
catching hundreds of spotted salamanders
and dropping them into
the same small bucket
to watch them swarm.

And ten years later,
when you die of leukemia,
she'll regret tackling you
that one time
they played football in the snow
because everyone laughed.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012


How do you pretend
like it's such a simple task?
I'm shaking
and holding my breath.
The fires nipping at my ankles.
I'm pleading for air
and running into
fluorescent puddles.
I'm falling to my knees
and covering my face.
Let  me fall apart.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Reach into my dreams,
you'll find me there.
inundating me
with promises.
I drowned.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

I step carefully
and apologize to the birds.
You ask me what I'm afraid of.
I think maybe everything.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Consume me, calamity

I'll lend you my soul,
dear devil.
just hold my heart
as I sink
below the blood soaked soil.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

again again again

Pretty screams
cruel and familiar
decadent and
inside my skull
and down
my spine
break my sleep,
my bones,
and my mind.

The earth turns in strange ways.

There is something about a car and being able to get out when you need to. When you feel like 'Oh you have got to be kidding me'. My words, ripped out from under me and painted into her face. I'm surprised that I didn't recognize the me in her-as she sat across from me. It's obvious that they hate her and that's why I liked her. There is something in being lied to. Like when you read the snapple cap and someone tells you it's fake. There is something about loneliness. Like when you scream and scream and realize you're still alone.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

nineteen facets

I am a person
and nothing more.
I was hoping you could tell me
what that means.
For now 
I'll just keep walking on inclines
I can't believe 
another year has passed.
Can you tell me
where you went?

Monday, October 15, 2012


no one thinks of you
and the bus won't
stop for you
and it rains everyday.
But sometimes
you realize your song
is on the radio.
And the cashier says
to have a nice day.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Let me get to the good part

Maybe I'll just sleep a little longer
I won't mind.
But somebody's at the window
and there are spiders in the ceiling.
What I'm thinking
is not okay.
I think it's slipping away.
Where did the conversation go
I think I left it with the guy
behind the counter.
But he died sometime ago
and I've been gone for longer.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012


I think the mirrors
that face is unfamiliar.
Maybe the prescriptions
I can't even see.
This game,
I'm just watching,
but I don't want
to play.
I'm running though,
with my eyes
glazed over
and the floors gone.
Who were you,
to do that to me?
All faceless memories
I think my head
hit the sink
before it
hit the floor.

Monday, September 17, 2012

I need this
More than ever...

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Only in the dark
Do I wish for light
And when that has
I am
No one.

Monday, September 10, 2012


Little lit up
looking out over
the tar soaked
with intruding eyes
in ambiguity.
I walked
with band-aids
covering my face.
They surrounded me
with ignorance
and stuck to me
City tears
soak me through
as I am further
from the distorted
of humanity.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

I like your pride,
filthy soul.
Flashing black as
blue and green
faces shatter down.
Your face,
closer with every flash,
exhausts my reason.
In front of me,
you reach for my hand
and between the dark and light,
bite off each finger.
Idly, I watch the
tiny droplets fall
around the ripped tendons
and I watch the pools fill
 around my feet.
I watch your face,
with blood
spilling down your chin,
And as I watch
I realize
I am jealous
of your pride.

Saturday, August 18, 2012


Summer nights start,
50mg later and it's 4am,
awake and starving.
Shaking and picking at the bandages on my arms.
Ripping out the tiny hairs
to look at layered bruises.
Watching for hours as some yellow
as others darken,
until it's time to get up.
Summer days start,
leaving my arms bare,
I go.
Sitting in a xeroxed chair,
with a flat back and wide arms,
my feet don't touch the ground.
Surrendering my left arm,
looking right
as my veins turn to ice inside my arms,
and throat as I suffocate.
Liquid dripping slows, mixing with saline.
Choking in breath,
watching the bags empty
as the tubes fill backwards with blood.
Inhaling halfway,
I barely breath.
A tiny pink pill later,
and I sleep
Summer days
and summer nights.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Favorite places

Like gessoed cardboard
and wall-less space,
watching barefoot tourists
on the edge of the fairy pool
in awe of their discovery,
and then stepping on glass.
And swimming down the ravine
above it,
the real secret from shoe-less fools.
A tiny stream
drops over the highest cliff,
leisurely mixing into the pool.
It's unsuspecting and shallow,
with tiny pebbles at the bottom
reaching above the waterline.
Follow it back, though,
and the walls grow taller
and closer together
as the water rises to your knees.
Soon you're wading
in dark, red-tinted water
And the floor could be anywhere.
The walls, four feet apart, are higher 
than the sun permits you to see.
Just as it begins to seem endless,
Something grazes your foot.
You jump because the floor is unimaginable.
But slowly it slopes toward the surface
and you're standing ankle deep.
The wall remains on your left,
but on your right you are met
with the washed out remnants of the slide.
It's not the usual large slate boulders.
Millions of tiny white and red pebbles
pour down, frozen.
It is immense and astounding,
how they are possibly stationary.
I found this over ten years ago
and I doubt a pebble has moved.
But fallen so perfectly at the top of this mass,
in the left corner is a white tree,
with it's expansive, dead branches
reaching down toward you.


Absurd nature,
you seethe with corruption
as a ghost of light
expands and spills over,
dissipates as it hits the floor.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Just a woman talking with unclear words,
sitting on the floor in the corner of the room.
Just a woman with a blurry face in the dark.
And suddenly unconscious, she is gone.
Just as soon, light fills the room again.
There she sits again, in the corner.
I lean in to see her face.
Instead now is a figure,
skin black and scaly,
and eyes burning coals.
His voice rough and shrill,
As he tells me who he is.
I feel only blank.

Simple and Terrifying.

Another deflected encounter,
familiar affliction.
Vagabond eyes
found home
in parallels, 
for just 
a second.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

This is how I felt a year ago.

Thought consumes most of my day. Thought prompted by social expectation. I despise being awakened from a controlled lull of thought at the sound of a bell. Focus on english, oh wait now math. Don't stray, health, now french, then chemistry. Ok breathe, just art. Finally history followed quickly by gym. The transition between these constrained thoughts is the worst infringement upon my sanity. A three minute, undesirable rush teeming with jabbing elbows, apathetic gaits, administrators herding the crowd, and a distinct pungent odor. After the final transition I can feel my own thoughts starting to surface and shake free from this dictatorship. We are the champions. But that's just it, that is only what we are led to believe. We're not champions. We are the epitome of the contrary. We're herded for the three minutes that we're on this earth and then we're gone. We are the losers. We are the sheep.

Your words kill me, Love

I find myself alone.
Pen, paper, words.
Pen- between finger and thumb
Paper- deep indents filled with ink,
Pen- dragging and cutting in,
Paper- white and blue,
a line of red.
Reflects you,
White flesh holds blue veins
holds red blood.
Blue lines on white paper
a line of red.
I try to save you, but you're already dead.
Just words on paper,
I'm alone

March 2007

Air polluted with polyurethane filled my lungs as I consumed what little oxygen was left in the basement. I set my brush down in the tray and turned to sit on the step. I looked up and dark marble eyes stuffed inside the sockets of a mounted deer glowered down at me menacingly. My asthma, lack of red blood cells, and the thick chemical smell in the air made his face appear to tilt towards mine repeatedly. I copied his motions, swaying my head back and forth to the rhythm of the deer. A ringing jolted me out of my daze. I could hear my mom talking upstairs. I tried to think who would call on a weekday so early in the morning, but my brain was not able to process whole thoughts. I continued rocking my head along with the deer. I heard footsteps above me and a moment later my mom opened the door. Oxygen. Why didn't I think of that? I leaned back so the crown of my head rested on the step behind me and my mother was upside down. That was a weird smile... but not a smile. I sat up and turned so she was the right way again. She looked distressed and as if she had been crying. "Where's dad?" I pointed to the closed door that led to the other room of the basement. She called him and a few seconds later the door opened and there he was. I could tell he was annoyed because he hates to be bothered when he's building something. However, he saw the look on my mom's face and his expression completely changed. "What's wrong?" She looked at the ground for a while and then looked up to inform us that J was killed. J? From school? The one in dad's class? The one who stayed over for dinner the other night after working with my dad? No... I knew my dad wouldn't be able to, so I asked her how. She went on to tell a chilling story of a fire and a boy trapped in the basement. Our location seemed morbidly coincidental. She finished the explanation and I looked behind me to see my dad standing at the bottom of the steps, looking very small. Despite the fact that in the past two weeks we had attended two other funerals, right there in the basement (just like the one that J died in) I saw my dad cry for the first time. "I knew death always comes in threes," he said. Then he turned, went into the other room with his workbench, and shut the door.

September 2nd, where are you?

He processes everything like a typical contemporary zombie who runs on what society grants him. He fuels his thoughts with caffeine and all the radical bullshit that he reads online.
And yelling, always yelling.

Let me die here.

Devils' eyes cut deeply
tear across the plane of desire and uncertainty
target the innocent, the weak
break the bonds of balance
left in solitude
fire burns quickly
filling full and whole
slipping, falling taunts
intelligence is nothing,
only left to mock
deny the necessary,
be locked away
consequences mingle
burn this paper of importance
or this rope I hang from
choices collide
as results tangle
disappointment lurks in every decision
what lover to beguile

Tuesday, May 8, 2012


To call it own
After decision-less hours
of opting into the
slow paced drudgery
of letting go to fate and spinning
and now here it is for you to own
boxed and shipped
confined to cardboard walls,
to call it own.
After sifting through
scattered sheets of charred paper,
host to smudged gray numbers.
To reach into the ruins
and hold your decision
to call it own.
But as your fingertips
claim the edges,
what was owned,
falls to ash.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

I love when things aren't what they seem.
Like a poem that raises your hopes.
And your spirit lifts more with every line.
But then you get to the very last line,
and you realize it's about death.

Friday, April 27, 2012

The Bright Veneers

scrawling with
elbow moving right to left
right left
heel tapping
Orange, yellow,
blue and pink
and bright,
so bright.
I am sick
cornered, sick
and separate.
So angry
and I am muted, light
and see through.
I am assumed
as something slow
can't keep up,
not bright enough.
I am nothing.
But I see mirrors.
scrawling with
elbow moving right to left
right to left
legs crossed and
heel tapping, but
air in silence.
I move words across paper.
You move numbers.
But there is no credit here
No boasting brightness,
not for me.
It's so basic.
A classroom,
a study hall.
With assigned seats.
A group in front left,
radiating brightness.
Teacher delighted.
But wait!
Who is that in the
back right, alone?
"Put the phone away."
"It's a book..." you should try reading one sometime.
Teacher looks away without response.
For the fourth time. By the fourth teacher.
I must be nothing.
These people,
these "bright" people,
they're knockoffs.
They cheat,
and lie.
Community Service:
Holding the door for an old lady
turns into 20 hours at a nursing home
on an application.
One finished homework is enough
for an entire class.
Mommy will call and take care of everything.
And if that ninety-eight won't do,
Mama's gonna buy you one hundred and two.
So bright.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

A right, not a privilege

Mr. Ivy League...
I'll take no answers from you.
How strange,
you've never been denied before.
I must be insane
and for the record
maybe so,
but here
my point is clear.
You're an enabler.
Don't think-
they never do
unless they have to.
And they have to.
Unless you hand it to them.
And you do.
It's selfish,
Stealing their chances.
To feel important.
Mr. Ivy League,
That is something
You are not.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I'll take Insanity With a side of Lost And a glass of Confusion

I think I am so close
to the line.
It could not even exist.
Left is usual and right is blurry,
but below my feet
they come together
and I might fall.
I am so close.
I think I am so close
if I speak
I will meet
and I might fall.
The line, where
I ask for usual back.
The only place that
I'll ever ask,
but I don't mean it.
I promise

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

And every silence is the end to another reaction
When did yesterday become today?

Monday, April 16, 2012


I live in a closet. 
A closet made of glass. 
On the edge of a sidewalk,
centered in town.
Where eyes skim, but never see. 
Where silence escalates into something palpable.
Where faces peer as
footsteps ascend and fade.
and fade and fade and fade.
A coffee is compliance to a million questions
by bodies too familiar. 
The pharmacy
is oxygen for lies to exhaust.
Every action is oxygen.
To take, to breath
and steal.
Until you're left,
beaten into 
a closet made of glass. 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

So plenty

Freshmint tic tacs
and lemon honey chapstick
would be
and done
and easy
and simple.
lets not make things
I'm not capable
of any of
300 pages later
and I don't know
what I'm doing anymore..

Thursday, April 5, 2012


Glass silhouettes 
balanced on the
red horizon 
You exhale
I lift up,
back against the sun.
From the center,
Glass silhouette
fall back to the
red horizon 

Friday, March 30, 2012


Mr. Ivy League
tear skin with
a diamond knife.
Murderer's ambition
but detached,
shiny teeth point
to half closed eyes.
And I am so sorry
for that.
Mr. Ivy League
there is a place,
warm with colors
where eyes and smiles meet
as the second hand
ticks over the hour.
You've found home,
for August.
But for hearts,
Mr. Ivy League
are alone.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012


I am watered down breath.
A dizzy step.
I am crown wide open.
A televised motion.
I am invisible laughter.
A sound to capture.
I am blank expression.
A blurred fiction.
I am what I will never be.
A rhyme.
I am everything

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Naked Eye

Perfect picture.
Beams of
Yellow light
cut through
monotonous fog.
Disfigured grace.
Rows of
grey tunics,
Bark their
Their motto.
In case of
Set fire,
burn it
What is left...
Charred liquid,

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Too Heavy

I built my heart of
thin metal, copper pipes,
wire, and red ribbon.
I Hung it from
its' spinning mechanism...
Tipped over,
Start over.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012


There must be something severely wrong with you.

Monday, March 12, 2012

I Miss You

I'm blindly walking down the yellow line. Time flitting by. Your face floating in front of mine, magnetically leading me. Moving forward, but never closer with an unvarying gap tormenting me. As my vision begins to clear I can see your lips are moving, but I'm deafened by a thunderous beating. My eyes search for that unmistakable sound. I look back to you only to find something else in your place. Its' small frame is swerving across the road. Slowly getting larger and closer. I try to avoid it's path, but I can only move forward. I can make out your face in the windshield. Your car rises up above my head, crashing into an invisible wall. Everything disappears except the beating. I look down to cupped hands, filled with familiar beats. Your blood drips down to my feet. I can't let go, but I'm still pulled forward.


Stomp across the cracks
Of broken, unsteady ground.
Do you think of nothing,
Care of nothing?
Bring the world down
With careless steps.
Crashing into my silence.
Loudness so unlike me.
Yet you've stolen everything.
Is nothing mine in this hour,
Identity included?
Twin, you can have it all.
But your sorry, conventional,
Borrowed mind,
Will Never be mine.
If you want it, you can have it all-
Wasted loneliness, hungriness.
I'll wrap it all in red paper,
Hand it to you with a double smile.
I have something you can never steal.
Something you don't have, can never have.
If you want it, take it all.

Friday, March 9, 2012


There it is again, Shameless Liar.
There is the shallow, see-through water
you drench me with.
Water designed to incite,
a jolt of exposure.
Well, Architect, I am still.
Unmoved, indifferent.
The 'truth' you speak of,
we are unacquainted.
I see petals
I see smoothness
I see falseness.
You feign reality
with your flimsy truth.
Your absence of pain, of conflict
is the absence of all.
Of all emotion,
Of all truth.

Sunday, March 4, 2012


I'm not lost,
not as lost as you think
in the word draped world
encased in an ivory vault.
Such a clear passage
In your face, your movement
Palm pressed against the metal case,
Forehead against the glass.
The valley between your brows
and the shadow they toss over
despondent mirrors.
Seeing into every droplet
of colored wash.
As you stare into what I've felt,
what I've painted,
every fragment storms out.
Showering over you,
a baptism of myself.
I step onto the channel where you float.
Soundlessly I become a witness
To you, to every feeling,
To every shard of pain
as it plunges into your heart.
The thought that I
have conquered your soul
Echoes down our narrow tunnel.
Awareness so loud,
It severs the bond.
And as your face blurs to darkness
your eyes glance back.
And again

Thursday, March 1, 2012


Whirlpool, let me go.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Precarious paths winding and intertwining.
Like a map or better, a maze!
Of scrawled words;
Some dark and serrated, bleeding.
Others with the slightest impact, a dying bulb
But still integral
To my expression, my sanity.
My thought; a potent piece of light,
Flitting deep into immeasurable divisions of space
Ascending wavering ladders,
Woven together by shredded fragments of every prospective utterance.
Tasting every viable union
Until settling on the precise arrangement,
My perfect expression.

Monday, February 27, 2012


Shallow pool of sunless black
Level glass yielding depth
Of lightless liquid carbon
Broken surface, airborne stain
Weak droplets fall to collapse
To meet, to tarnish composure
The stark and stifled
Pure lightness

Sunday, February 26, 2012


Two years ago I wrote
Of reinvention.
Of my paper thin resilience.
Of my deathless need
Of New.

My 50th post is my 1st...