I’m drowning in your eyes.
It gets deeper, each moment
Splitting seconds
Dropping the hour glass-
Into a black hole….

Warmth spreads.
A blanket of security
Pulsating-
Like a sunset over the ocean.
As far,
As wide,
As strong,
..I can feel you inside

The focus changes.
A narrow angle
Shutter-
Fade
As the box closes….

I can breathe again


Please open your eyes


I need the strength to survive

Quotes from Sarah Kane plays:

"You've fallen in love with someone that doesn't exist"

"Now I have found you I can stop looking for myself"

"If I die here, I was murdered by daytime television"

"Black snow falls

in death you hold me
never free

I have no desire for death
no suicide ever had

watch me vanish
watch me

vanish

watch me

watch me

watch


It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind


Please open the curtains"

I suffer through this
Drifting among blasted plastic
As if the atmosphere is bleeding-
Blue lines
That touch too deep.
Like baskets,
Woven from the inside

I cannot breathe here.


You break me,

Dissolved from these acid words.


I suffer through this
Where apathy no longer has meaning
Picking apart my brain cells
As if popping bubblegum-
Fucking my eyeballs.

You have broken me
For the last time.

This hour glass contains
Heartless entropy.

I suffer through this
Only to find the emptiness
You contain….

And no longer will give to me

Distance magnetizes the moment
Breaching within my mind.

I promise to wander only so far,
Soo long…
Enough so I can run back.

Such as a broken rubber band,
this beautifies feelings
into material action.

Pieces float
Off waves.
A wire vibrates
As if I can sense the earth move
Shifting constellations into my eyes.
And each slowly burning out
Like a wish.

It’s gone

There is no glamour left

Surrounded by fear
I dance,
Creating flames of desire
An island
Which has formed inside of me.

It’s only a destination,
Something that has yet to be found.

I’m trying to remember
Where to begin

Your eyes are an unspoken credence
pale crystallized flourishing spikes.
watching memories stolen-
crumble
like innocence.

8 turns 18
as you fall down the stairs
blinking.
in this delicate breathing
you are no less beautiful
than you were before.

societal depth as circumference
the skin is breaking
a tree branch,
carved into boxes.

vision is nothing without power.
the blistering force
of tornadoes invade the unconscious
rearranging what little is left.

for a moment-
nothing.

your lids drop.

I try to remember,

yes

it was me

Pull the shadows from my skin
taking nothing out of something
as if a small child
uprooting a plant
too soon
from the depths of my brain.

swelling,
my eyes draw rain
deep as the bottom of the ocean.
as the viens curve down my neck
trying to plant myself
back inside.

Now I somehow know what it feels like
to be empty
without missing a piece.
to be broken
but already healed together.
and to be naked
inside layers upon layers
of heavy cotton.

this darkness
is talked about in stories.
but what they don't know...

..its been here all along

He told me to be passive aggressive
Holding a gun to my head.
I dropped
Tomatoes,
The seeds arraying into diamonds.
Like blood-
Oranges when punctured with a knife.

My nature was bruised,
I had nothing left
But millions of tears
Collected within leaves
Above my head.

The only support I had
Was the branch-
Holding me like a soldier
Passing weapons of fruit.

I reach into the golden sky,
Shuffling around the hope
Trying to find the solution….

Grasping at things in this world
Can only yield two results:
Life or death.
I have chosen something more.

You stole my words
Like a slender kiss upon my skin.
A Fabrication of my memory
Of love.
I remember you,
But only the way you moved
Each finger down my neck,
Fishing for my heartbeat.
An echo
Canvassing the distance
A million miles
To-
the next breath.



I read your lips
Like sign language
Spun between my hips.
We run far enough
To find that
We are back-
Stealing words
Such a dance we have learned
Too many times.



I wait,
The distance strengthens
As our words drown into
One another.
No longer can you steal
Something that joined
Our soul.

Sometimes I look around and see all the stereotypes of my generation.

In a local coffee shop, I like to watch college students.

One is the typical annoying girl, talking very loud, using many hand gestures, and very, very insecure. She is having a colorful conversation with an Asian American, whom, one can easily tell was adopted by some rich white family out of pity. And yes, I am making this assumption because two tables up are two real Asians, talking only with themselves. Behind me are the artistic types. You know, the ones who work minimum wage jobs, and complain about the 50’s and 100 dollar bills they have break. Discussing which upcoming movie they should see because it is supposed to be the next hip thing.

Then there is the fat girl talking to the happy couple. You can tell that the whole third wheel is getting to her, as she pretends to enjoy her moments in conversation. She secretly wants the guy across from her, but he is too shallow to see her true beauty.

And gracefully is the musician, going from table to table listening to stories, looking at old pictures, planning his life as the attractive man with mediocre guitar skills. He is a natural blonde; never see them get into any trouble in Hollywood.

Then there are the two that say nothing, just checking their cell phones periodically in a trance. The all black attire works for Goths; I don’t think it does well in this sense.

Each states that they should not eat, but does anyways. Bone thin, waiting to sneak back to the dorm room and purge silently while listening to an ipod. Giggling, the retro tight black pants squeeze more brain cells loose, as there fingers do the walking into an elaborate text message. All of a sudden, one looks angry when making a phone call. The serious face, the popped out eyes and the rising volume trigger me to look away. Making eye contact is forbidden…maybe my generation has changed.

I work with children with disabilities, and currently reading a book about Autism. A quote from the book inspired me to write this:

Autism




Motionless,
He speaks millions of words
Without a single sound



This “fantastic ballet”
Studying tiny facets,
Interactions,
Pieces of a puzzle
We can only dream
Be simplified.



Your presence is not known
Until a tap, note, or bounce-
Slides across the window.



The door,
Locked so tight
So dark
So strange.
A sparkler on the fourth of July
Lights the way through
A keyhole



But you can’t get in.

alcohol

Pale pink hues,

The glass carves tear drops.

Spin the bottle.

Feel it flowing in her veins.

Three times more,

waiting for the release.

She hits the floor.

Wishing she could remember

The words,

Drifting

Above her mind.

Like a marionette

He lifts her limbs.

Dancing,

The vibration drains her.

All she remembers

Is an empty glass

standing on the table.

"It's kind of like walking out a door to discover it's a window."
-Conor Orbrest

You’re past the expiration date

She said.

I couldn’t figure out what she meant

The way her lips moved like string cheese

Falling as each

Flappy

word

fell.

She crossed her eyes

Like reversing time.

Festering,

Her blinks could stop traffic.

If only she could stop.

Maybe then,

I would understand the depth of her words.

It grew cold.

My head slowed down.

I could see her peeling layers.

Saran wrap,

Stretched upon a snowy sky

Pale with green.

A drop in the sink.

She reached for me,

in the space

that had become frozen.

For a moment

I understood the silence.

On the pavement

The teddy grahams are staring at me.

Their eyes

Empty

Crushed between the pavement

So frivolously scattered

Like ghosts,

Hopeless carbs

Not digested

Or loved

Taken body

And soul.

Crumbs,

Laid before the sun

Becoming sand-

Like the playground…

Used and abused

Pieces of time.

Time…

You can see it

Flickering

Lost particles

Reaching…

Into your shoes

Death is a carnation.

The smell follows you

Like a funeral procession.

Wafting fragrances of memories

You no longer wish to hold.

Sometimes,

I don’t.

I push it away.

Yet the bouquets rain down.

A sequence of trap doors,

These unforgiving eye

Swallowing

Me

A priest bows his head.

I WASH AWAY THE SINS OF THIS WORLD

I try to imagine my tears as holy.

Water,

Flooding my face

Just as jesus would have wanted.

But this does not bring life back.

A carnation grows,

Dies,

And disintegrates.

A weed pulled too early-

Too fast-

Too soon.

And the smell will haunt me

No matter how many tears I cry.

"No man is sane who does not know how to be insane on the proper occasions. "




"No emotion, any more than a wave, can long retain its own individual form."


by Henry Ward Beecher

Dialect

A process of speech

On the tongue,

And teeth.

Awkward,

As I dream of languages-

Conversations,

And places

I have never seen.

Words follow,

Like notes.

Cars in the night sky..

I cant’ catch them.

Throats shooting

Vibrations,

Feels like possession.

Controlling,

Spinning,

Sensation.

My mind tells me that

I cannot let go.

Beauty in words.

Scene kids

I can not sing without the medicine

The voice of un-logic

As the spandex of my pants

Wane upon my emotional state of mind.

I collapse within myself,

Aching upon the memories

Like footprints scaled on my back.

I will cry-

In melodramatic tone

Like my black shoes

Bouncing on the floor.

I want you to sing for me

Feed the IV of sorrow

So I can live with this medicine

Of irony

Printed on a tightly fitted

T-shirt.

Sing the sorrow,

Bleed American,

You have stolen my heart…

With your hair.

If you dream, does it make it real?

Glass.

Focus upon the images-

Red lines

Following roads like cars

Swerving string

Destined into knots.

A map.

Laid on a recycled edge of

Pillows.

Like a lullaby

Soft, light, and

Evocative.

Filters the sand

Through empty rooms

Colliding –

With the clouds.

We come from bubbles.

Thoughts left behind

Each eyelid

Spending a lifetime

Between Freud’s imagination,

And the lines of a book.

Attachment

We are a stranger to abandonment

Lost within a flock of sheep

She cannot hold us,

Drag us,

Find us-

Untie us within ourselves.

She pokes us

The rod is hard against our naïve skin

Breaking

Trying to resist

The linking chains

Built with inspiration,

Love,

Gratitude.

The branches break

Like a crown of braids

Unlatched upon our heads.

Eyes,

Sharp as rats

Dissolve upon release.

These guided crystals

Trying to be put back together,

Lost in imaginary lines…

Light becomes dark,

Shadows are faceless demons

And once again,

We are attached.

Dinosauria, we
By Charles Bukowski

born like this
into this
as the chalk faces smile
as Mrs. Death laughs
as the elevators break
as political landscapes dissolve
as the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
as the oily fish spit out their oily prey
as the sun is masked

we are
born like this
into this
into these carefully mad wars
into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
into bars where people no longer speak to each other
into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings

born into this
into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty
into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

born into this
walking and living through this
dying because of this
muted because of this
castrated
debauched
disinherited
because of this
fooled by this
used by this
pissed on by this
made crazy and sick by this
made violent
made inhuman
by this

the heart is blackened
the fingers reach for the throat
the gun
the knife
the bomb
the fingers reach toward an unresponsive god

the fingers reach for the bottle
the pill
the powder

we are born into this sorrowful deadliness
we are born into a government 60 years in debt
that soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
and the banks will burn
money will be useless
there will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
it will be guns and roving mobs
land will be useless
food will become a diminishing return
nuclear power will be taken over by the many
explosions will continually shake the earth
radiated robot men will stalk each other
the rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante's Inferno will be made to look like a children's playground

the sun will not be seen and it will always be night
trees will die
all vegetation will die
radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
the sea will be poisoned
the lakes and rivers will vanish
rain will be the new gold

the rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind

the last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases

and the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
the petering out of supplies
the natural effect of general decay

and there will be the most beautiful silence never heard

born out of that

the sun still hidden there

awaiting the next chapter

I wonder what it be like

To know you were going to die.

To want to bash your head in

Instead of trying to understand

What is left of your

Pill box.

Degeneration.

Muscle,

Bones,

Key notes

Crack,

Like the pavement in winter.

Broken glass

Salted with crystals

Floating in your blood

Every week

Counted

D

O

W

N

Like logs

Waiting

In the saw mill.

We whisper,

Because that why we can make it easier

To drop bombs.

Softly poke

Probing,

And stabbing.

These words are no longer able to protect you.

Prayers only

Make you sleep.

Rushing time,

Until you can’t pretend

You are going to die.

Love is a scar.

A reminder of sacrifices,

Pain,

Justification,

Of something you will spend a lifetime

Trying to remember.

They say feelings are chemical reactions,

Brain dysfunctions,

A lost connection-

At sea.

As this bottled letter

Floats senselessly

Words drift.

Decorating the back

Of my eyelids.

Sleep tight,

they hum…

For these dreams will only

Wake you

Shake you

Break you

Until you can no longer

Remember the world

From the eyes of

The scar.

A porcelain angel.

Eyes glazed…

Drenched with indecision.

To be a witness,

Like a cat on the front porch

Making no speculation

Or judgment-

Just a smile.

She nods,

As if to fall sleep.

Eyes closed

Only to open

When startled.

A dream world

Coated with cotton candy dresses,

Sips like the tea

Held against her lips.

Silence is golden.

Perfectly suited for emptiness.

What more could she ask for,

Than to have them say,

You have such beautiful eyes..

Please stop.

I am not your paper air plane

Whisking precious memories

Like snowflakes.

I cry

Because I love you,

Not for hate.

There is so much beauty in this world

You refuse to see.

Just fake plastic pieces

Molded, shaped,

Spread across your forehead-

Waiting for cognition.

I cry

Because I need you,

Not for hate.

You open your eyes

Like the sunset.

Flashing the future

Making it the past.

I try to remember

What fate forgets.

I cry

Because I want to,

Not for hate.

Please stop.

I am not your paper air plane

I do not fall upon the wind,

I race across the sky.

What we teach our children

We should be teaching our children

That they are beautiful on the inside.

We should be teaching our children

To express emotion and not rage.

We should be teaching them about

The beauty in the world and not the ugliness.

For I have seen their eyes.

Spilt second-one blink

And an ocean turns to flames.

I’ve seen chairs fly, blood run, and words blast

Faster than you can breathe.

Each mutilate their bodies

Chipping away any sense of humility.

I tell them,

Believe in change.

Believe in what you want to happen,

And not what will.

But we don’t teach them how to see

We teach them how to look-

Between the lies.

These eyes show another world.

Just a simple gloss

Can describe the deepest evocation.

Pain no matter how well hidden

Escapes.

As humans,

We pride ourselves in how well we can appear

“normal”.

But time burns the wax off the lips.

The eyes leak,

A soul torn,

A trendy manipulation-

We teach our children.