losing my mindi have mastered the art
of hiding my emotions,
they neatly tuck themselves away
in the deserted creases of my mind.
slowly, they grow old and cold,
happiness falls through my fingertips
[ N U M B ]
darling, do not be confused,
for hiding does not mean forgetting.
these despairs unsteadily stack one upon the sorry other
my mind is a trembling mountain of unforgiving thoughts
and self-destructive motives.
[ E A R T H Q U A K E ]
oh dear, they’ve gotten the best of me.
dreams of death Jump!
He sucked in a jagged a breath, peering down over the edge. His body trembled.
Blue eyes were hungry yet fearful; begging yet hesitant.
Jump! The snarling voice repeated, more vicious and forceful this time. Just a split second and he could be gone. Life was so fickle in the thought of how fragile it truly was. People were often ignorant to realize that all it took was one second – one feeble little moment – and life, everything, could slip through trembling hands like sand.
Seth gnawed his lower lip. Power rested upon him like a crown upon a king. The choice was his: would he live, or would he die?
Death. How long had be been dreaming of it? So many years. Years of pain and grief, of striving for that relief, yet when he was handed the chance, he stood undecided, fearful, unsure.
.they say that you are the
work of the devil; you'll have
black orbs for eyes and a tongue
as sharp as your fathers
and i hope you will not feel a thing
when they pull back your blankets
and carry you out, when they leave
me with nothing but creases
BrokenI lay down my heart,
I begin to pray,
My heartstring lay.
The reds now grey,
On this unholy day,
Your hands are stained,
My heart is framed.
Encased in glass,
Lost all that lasts
Where dead men groan.
A deep dark home,
Of skin and bone,
A deep dark hole,
For a broken soul.
Mend the heart,
If you dare try,
But tear it apart,
Then be prepared to die.
In the end,
It doesn't matter.
This, TooI point to the hair on my knuckle
and you say, “yes, this, too, I love.”
It is longer than the year before, curling
a little farther from my body. I say so
and you say, "I know."
I pull it out to two options: am I angry
that you saw my body betraying youth,
that first little slide, and did not tell me?
Or, do I pat your rounding belly and say,
“yes, this, too, I love.”
Muon neutrinoSome number of days
become one: a thought bound together
by the number of pills I took, 12 on Wednesday,
you forgot Thursday, when God lets his head rest
a blackhole forms,
and you ask for your poems back.
Maybe I took a reflection gold like yours,
a few back hairs, the phone you bought, a German market,
your accent, but my hand was possessed:
I spun a new era,
knocked around plastic bottles
and shattered a dropper. My lines were perfect,
nothing like the fizzy bits of an atom,
when your car never started,
a roach on the nightstand,
my eye imploded,
but I send my poems back.
The ones on napkins, dollars, candy wrappers,
unduplicated sinews of sex, laughter,
or just an amphetamine,
You were always better. And better
is impossible to swallow,
light's always faster,
and when God blinks,
when you grow up, you want to be a scientist.
you want answers that are irrefutable,
you want truth to drip like arsenic from your lips,
evidence pried from the ruins of a long dead god,
until they regret they forgot you.
in eleventh grade chemistry, you find an outlier.
you find your own biosphere
in your bedroom,
alongside medical journals and crochet blankets
- he is not a scientist, but he explores -
he goes on a excavation of your closet,
wears sweatshirts from the distant relatives who don't know who you are,
ones with animals on them or patiently knitted together with wrinkled hands and maroon threads
instead of the ones branded with the names of ivy league schools
he digs out drawings from when you were knee-high,
and pours over
the history of you -
"i'm not interesting," you tell him.
"i can name the planets, sure,
but you can tell me who they are.
why you'd bother
with the body of a dead boy, well,
i'm walking, sure, but barely -
i'm wisps of coffee fumes
White sandwhite codeine haze
gulps and swallows the earth around me,
it's hard to walk when the ground
like the weeds diving
in and out of the sand-trap,
and movements make
swift lines to
Blackbox of a Euclidean (air)PlaneLove like a luxury coupe with a glass frame, false controls
and doors welded tighter than a deafly-tuned E string,
it's wild to think a summer's worth of fuel thrusted
us far enough to get
does our smoke blur the lens
after we burn out?
Twisted and leaking emotion, we
leave a messy afterimage streaming behind us; crossing
and recrossing like power-lines in a rainstorm.
It could've been the drugs but
I’ve seen a bridge
survive, pristine in agony, long after the sea swallowed its once-
touching islands in a molten gulp.
The vaulted ribcage of an ancient giant, the bridge bled shadows on both ruins
when the sun splintered through the dusk just
Sabotage & speculation. But,
did we talk? Or did my voice simply
reflect itself across the axis of a reaching mind; a projection of
Bite Your Tongue Till It BleedsBite Your Tongue Till It Bleeds
Speak now or forever hold your peace,
Or is it piece?
‘Cause if I hold this piece of my mind,
To myself, there will be no peace,
Only an explosion of the mental mine
That riddles mine.
I’m no man, I’m a mime,
Holding his hands over his mouth,
Biting my tongue so these words have no way out,
With my eyes half-lidded, the other half brimmin’,
With tears near the bottom half of the rim,
Ready to fall like rainwater races down a windowsill.
Angry to the point where I wish I could control the skies,
Rain down Hell and fury that has built up inside,
And watch my furious vision destroy the night.
But this is not me,
This not how I am,
Nor how I will ever be.
It’s just that I’ve been holding my peace
For such a long damn time.
Now it just seems the only “peace” I’m holding,
Are pieces of my mind.
Epipogium aphyllumyou called me a beautiful poisonous flower
something precious that would kill for you
and i would
a venus fly trap
exactly what i called myself
and i’ll call you a ghost orchid
you rare beautiful thing
presumed extinct for 20 or more years
preferring shady woodland
or even hiding underground
until conditions are optimum to bloom
such a long awaited honour
to encounter a flower such as you
post disentanglement of selfas one listens
of cosmic hiss
listen to this: [but]
do not sit and listen
nor feel your clothing
nor peer beyond thoughts
as one by one
one ceases to sense
one finds one's mind
behind closed eyelids
where everything bides
awaiting one's call
great and small
ideas will sidle
the barren and needful
like timid vixen
wish one to approach
as one may
on softest of feet
of a sudden
there it is
so well worth the wait
[yet not total silence]
llp - dA - mar2014
DLD - mar30/2014
Pluto Isn't a PlanetI can barely breathe
and that's what's keeping me
My parents said I was a child
(Too young to understand)
And the teachers shook their heads at me.
Society told me that I was insane
and the stares in the halls told me
it wasn't right
to keep living this way
How could the burden of those galaxies
be the reason I'm alive?
"You are on the wrong track," they said,
"You need to follow planets orbiting the sun
and Pluto isn't
There is no point
if the textbook isn't open,
but I cannot lie to my
I feel most alive when my small hands
are trying to carry the entire solar system
and I break through the most
galaxies and constellations
by following the north star
and not the mathematical calculations
I copied down in my
9The other night I dreamt of rooftops-
I put on my winter coat,
stuffed my pockets full of flasks,
and asked you to meet me on a rooftop downtown.
I could hear your devilish grin
through your eager response.
We snuck past the cop car down the block,
giggled at the danger, drunkenly
warmed our mouths with bourbon
and the desire to kiss,
and when the bottles were empty,
we traded bottles for lips.
Our breath went up like steam,
faces so close together that
vision went out of focus,
bodies robbing warmth from
each other, starting fires
the strong muscles of your arms
pulling me closer than expected,
and those lips hungrily devouring me
as if I was the last sweet on earth.
When our fires went out
you took me back to your place.
We wrapped up in blankets
and fell asleep on your couch,
unafraid as we drifted towards sobriety
in a cold drunken haze.
I can't help but consider texting you:
"I am lonely and cold-
You should come kiss me."
UnforgettableFive years of us
learning each other,
loving each other,
before we took our vows
and began anew.
Twenty hours of travel
was well worth it.
The paradise we found
in that faraway land
took my breath away.
and a cabin in the rain forest
overlooking a black sand beach.
Our pale skin pinked under the Costa Rican Sun,
the burn soothed under a cloudless sky.
We watched glimmering stars,
brighter in the absence of city lights.
by foreign tongues and familiar arms.
An experience with no parallel.
Taking our commitment
and testing it
making it stronger.
I hiked on slippery rocks
to get to that special place,
to stand underneath that waterfall
To laugh with you,
to take in the wonder of the world
in your company.
To smile just because…
I married you.