Nasty thing

All the trauma overcome
my battles won
but here’s the fun
true fear comes from
knowing love
owning something
you won’t give up
willingness to feel happy
safety is a nasty thing
comfortable and so it seems
until you dream the dying dream
fear of your own mortality
creeps upon your shoulders stay
yet you still remember the days
days when death would have been
so sweet
but knowing love has made you weak
fear the end and losing sleep
all because you have the dream.


Anti is the new pink

Grimes what a little girl
oh how she loves the world
oh an anti-capitalist
she knows how lucky she is
that fans
don’t really understand
that if
she’s truly an anti capitalist
that she
she’d be doing this
for free
and don’t you say
she has to make a living
you can stay
off the grid away from doing
what you hate
and so passionately
want to destroy
but see she’s playing
with her toys
she’s got a bank account
and cashes checks to pay the bills
she’s investigated
all her boyfriend’s union deals
pretend is fine
but when you take it
quite this far
oh yes you are
a hypocrite in clothe and garb
it’s all the same
you are the company you keep
lovers that you seek
you are an extension of these
because we are
we are what we surround
he hasn’t left this ground-but
my boyfriends like so cool now.

Oh wait… something something

Let’s ask the wife of Oj Simpson
Nicole might just have her own rendition
oh that’s right we can’t just ask her
she’s dead in the ground
she didn’t think faster
when all the police ignored her reports
when nobody believed the bruises and sores
but let’s ask Nicole if only we could
should we trust what the wives say
or would that not be good?
She’s dead in the ground
and the world played its hand
okay it was America but still it was grand
when we make allowances let it be said
we can’t ask every wife
what her husband really did.

My clouds are lungs

It hurts
silence is deafening
have you ever really
loved me
or am I just dreaming.
This is hell-didn’t know
myself until today
the demon, maiden
and the saint
it burns and takes
the faith away.
It hurts
to hear the sound of
to read the cold
and fractured
messages in the air.


In the restroom mirror she stands staring, waiting for her masquara to run-the movies say it will. It doesn’t. What does happen is worse. Her eyes get puffy and red-everything swells. She wants to look pretty. Pretty and sad. She desperately wants to be a tragic vision to match the way her heart feels. She’s in her uniform. She’s not the head, but she’s damn good. Yet, still she’s here. In front of the mirror her lower lip whimpers she hears footsteps and turns the faucet on.
No one walks in, but she splashes water on her face all the same. The masquara still doesn’t run though it looks a mess anyway. She splashes the water once again before turning off the faucet. Grabbing paper towels she catches all the drips and sighs. Lip Gloss sticks to paper so she wipes it all off. She’s thinking she left me she’s crying silently for her.
She scrubs her face violently with torn and withered paper towels grabbing more as needed. She’s thinking of that girl. That short, pretty brunette-all natural. She scrubs harder puffy cheeks a deeper red. She turns the faucet on again. Splashing water on her face she scrubs now with hands. She’s crying into the water as three girls enter the room. They look at her puzzled, but pass by all the same. They are giggling and peaking as she washes her face. Ignoring the audience all she can think is she left me for her.
She turns off the faucet and dries her face again. The masquara never runs it just raccooned instead. She stares at her visage as the other girls head to the sinks. Still looking, still giggling, but now calling her a freak. She’s staring into the mirror her uniform on looking at the remnants of the makeup she had on then slowly, very slowly and turns to the other girls. “ Get fucked, losers.” she sneers through dry naked lips-thinking I’m the fucking cheerleader here.
She grabs her stuff. She’s heading to her next class, but her emotions well up again. Exiting the restrooms she walks down the hall thinking of the girl who broke her heart. It had only been a week, but she’s torn apart. She walks out of the building and exits the school.
Her face is puffy, eyes like raccoons, she’s thinking of dying and pretty funerals. “It’s over” she chokes back tears “my life is over” she begins to cry clutching her binder, cars driving by, she sobs.
Then a hiccup, a whimper, and all of a sudden a laugh “fuck them!” stamping her foot she continues to walk. She’s going home. Fuck it. She’s walking much stronger now raccoon eyes no longer leaking she walks on.
She gets about a block before her hands begin to tremble “that bitch!” she shouts wanting to scream wildly, but keeping it in as best she can. She’s fury. Everything in her eyes screams death as she storms ever closer to her house.
She’s thinking horribly violent thoughts about the ex and her pretty natural brunette-fuck them both. Tears run down puffy red cheeks as she arrives. She runs to her room once she enters the house and screams. She screams and she scream and she screams into her pillow.
Her legs begin to kick as do her arms and she thrashes. She thrashes and thrashes and then thrashes some more before growing tired. She’s still thinking of that girl.
Impulsively she sits up. She’s kicking her legs out over the edge of the bed. She’s anxious, and tired, she’s numb from the pain.
Thinking of every word that rhymes with death she grabs a notebook and begins to write. She writes and writes and then tears out the pages and screams.
Her phone begins to vibrate interrupting the fit as she grabs it from the floor like nothing at all was happening.
She flicks on the screen a smile plastering itself on her face as she reads the text preview teasing a message from that girl. She squeals and squeaks shouting “she misses me!”

A form of medication

Say it again
say that you need me
say that I’m here for a reason
say that I’m worth it
that I do deserve it
because I can’t feel real without it
say it again
say it for me
say it until I believe

Mirror of what came before

It’s the same
and yet
yet so completely
not again
but similar
still leaves my mind
searching for words
now that everything
is different
but all the same
old wounds
do not forget
the pain all in my skin
memory of flesh
but then
this time
it’s completely different
like night and day
but still we miss
we want to forget
under our skin
finger nails
and on our neck
makes the differences