this is how i get you to give up the ghost. this is how i know you've given up the ghost. there's a smile on my face and a dove in my hand, pretending that we've found peace. and this gash in the bottom of my face, the one i can call a smile, grows wider and wider. it does a good job of swallowing the messes i make. why so quiet? we both know how terrified you were when you saw me with my hands outstretched.we both know i'll beat you at your own game any day of the week. i can beat you at any game. do not try to run. do not try to hide. resistance is futile and we're each of us aware that you could never hide as well as i could find you.

this is the squirrel stash tucked in your sock drawer

watch me walk
always a step ahead versus running away
i never know what you want
write it down, and
let me be your latest fascination
because you sound so young
and i feel so old
she blinks like a fawn
big eyes wide smiles
smiles at the mirror
at the sex he thinks he can exploit
He struggles with himself,
looking for a new reason to exist
and her--new her; take that how you like--
her french isn't as good as it used to be.
keep up!
are you lost yet?
now he--new he--sings at dawn
because if he can control the sky,
make it brighter by degrees, if he
feels like he has control over that,
then it almost eclipses how she's not in his nest anymore.
her karma's about as good
as the corner where she's standing.
the offers she's getting.
can't a girl get a Break?
not everyone's selling Sex.
she pulls her skirt down,
hopes it'll eventually cover her knees.

not missing any work

sweetness, we're falling asleep now.
are you coming to bed? are you coming--
so now we're in your window,
eyeing the cake your mother made
frosting flowers all across the top, and if
i could just get out--if you would let me out--
i would run across them,
make them as real as your smile.
while you hold the cause of the pills i haven't
been prescribed yet above my head.
straighten out your sheets, because no mother would approve of what we just did.
will you remember what we just did?
did you come to bed yet? did you come--
you've made your bed
now we're both going to sleep in it.
like the crow that hit your windw
and yours
and yours
and yours.
(tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...)
we're running away from one margin but only getting
closer to the next,
and i'm dotting my eyes and crossing my tees
so that you may do whatever you please.
don't tease
(and soon the lease
on our relationship will be up;

you can leave.)
que mes baisers soient les mots d'amour que je ne te dis pas.

you see, it shocked me into love
something like a thousand volts.
a year ago she could pick herself apart and destroy herself,
no problem,
and now all she's got is
a lie and a dusty box in the back of your closet.
leaves are tumbling down, down, down, across the river, and did you hear?
she can walk on water.
she hung the moon
the stars,
and still had the time that night to sleep.
did you hear?
well, she's YOUR daughter.
empty slaughter with a cherry on top that looks like an excuse.
see, she pulls off her kneecaps sometimes and digs down inside her legs so she can find the secrets she hid there.
check the news--check the weather--check yourself.
stop lying
start putting those talents of yours to use.
she's a high-class whore
and she doesn't want to grow up,
no sir.
she stole your death,
snapped out her tendons,
and pulled out her ribs to feel something real,
without experiencing any consequences.
the aching in your ankles is an empty allusion to an
take my reason,
make it treason.
(but you know you'll leave some
for the ones who want it.
wasn't it always that way?)
she only caters to what she wants;
she's not used to being alone.
she'll erase the words that you wrote first
and paint them across the walls she hates.
she only wants what she can't have.
she left you breathless once she found a way to steal it back.
she hates shoes.
she hates rain.
she hates herself.
she'll go out in style.
I picked my way through the wreckage and realized that you're beautiful, in a roundabout sort of way.
Sober you up--this is where I stand now.
You threw your lemonade in my face months ago and now I'm kissing your bruises all better.
Whambamthankyouma'am and I can['t] get over this myself.
For once, I'd like to defy ourselves instead of defining ourselves, but I know that's wholly unattainable.
I thought about perception,
and then I thought about me,
and then I thought about you.
[must be a Tuesday]
This isn't about who you'll think it's about.
My battery just died a little bit more and I want outoutout.
All I want to see is the insides of my eyelids.
And maybe I should hate you for this,
But maybe it doesn't really matter.
Heartsstarsandclovers and I'm fallingfalling.
Four and twenty blackbirds,and I'm flying again.
I hate everything you do to make me feel at ease.
The silence is deafening
And I'm once again expressed by a series of
Ones (1)
And Zeros (0)
And on and on and on.
All I want to do
Is kiss your fingertips
And make you feel okay.
The more you talk about it, the more in love I fall,
But that may be a misleading pronoun.
Never ask, never tell.
Hold off your bets now.
You opened your eyes—
And out fell the sky.
Straight into my lap. I was shocked.
It was hopeless and broken,
But endless.
I tried to count the stars,
But kept getting distracted.
By small things, you know?
Like the smattering
Of freckles
Across the bridge of your nose.
The shadows that
Down your cheeks
Each time you blinked.
The way you
To look at me
Until I wasn't looking at you;
Unless I was
Out of the window,
Pretending to Glance
At the pharmacy across the way.
But really,
I was watching you,
Watching your reflection,
Watching you
watching me.
I could have cried.
"Are our eyes our own?"
Breathing quickens,
But the heart stills.
Tears spill.
Your thoughts, your words hold one thousand different meanings,
And each one leaves me stunned.
Leaves me shunned.
I’m shamed and ashamed.
Our rhythm, our voices, our cadence—
They leave no room for me.
Each time you smile, my heart breaks and melts and stops, all at once.
I don’t begrudge you anything.
You know all this already.
Watch as I smile through it all.
I’m so pathetic.
But a good liar.
Go for a walk.
Try not to sob.
Try not to sing too loudly.
Stop myself from calling you.
Convince myself it’s all okay.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Lather rinse repeat.
You get the point.
All I am is repetition.
I’m getting off topic.
I could care less.
This is happy.
This is the face of happy, and I’ve never been more malicious in my sarcasm.
Every word that I bite back sidles down my throat.
Hot and venomous.
Le mort petit.
Except, really, it’s not.
Slugs. I’m swallowing hot, primordial swamp slugs.
I’ve never felt more in tune with myself.
I’m dying, slowly and painlessly.
It’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world.
Hey, look, it’s every lie I told, every half-truth I believed.
All I need is my name on your lips, please.
Tell me what I want to hear?
I'm the tears, falling down your cheeks when you feel you need attention, the callouses on your fingers you think nothing of sloughing off.
What happened to pride in ones work?
I've made a habit out of waiting up for you.
It's not hard to fall back into an old pattern.
For a while this was all I knew.
I'm well-learned and scholarly in the art of pining after you.
It's like riding a bike.
Who am I, you ask?
I don't even know anymore.
Ask me later.
I forget.
This frustration with myself can only wear so thin before the fabric rips altogether.
My proverbial clothes are falling apart from the acidic self-loathing I keep so close to my heart.
I could never stay mad at you.
I'm shakingshaking, wound and wired.
My heart is heavy and feet are tired.
Home, home, home again. I miss the world, I miss my friends.
Shackles, prison, ball and chain. Bars on windows and your name.
Save me, save me, dear desire. Deadline's here, down to the wire.
Change is needed, change is good. I'm wanting you more than I should.
Charts all tell me all my wages. Pretty lines on pretty pages.
I'm suffocating on myself, and all this amounts to is how much I need you.
I don't know. I'm pretty much incoherent, but aren't I always?
I opened my eyes to the sky that you saw
(damned devotchka)--
the words that we wrote as a team;
our dream,
as useless as it was.

There was fire in your mouth,
rhymed poison, I found.
You told me aboutan emptiness,
your shout,
your weariness,
clearing my mind
and snatching my piety.

There are words that you penned with your fears.
There are words that you said calmly with a sneer.
There are words I would never, ever dare to
I am synonymous with destructive, and it's more than you've ever wished you could be.
Romanticism at its finest.
I'm posting far too much today.
I woke up, up, up, and fell.
Into you.
Into myself.
(Fuck, I don't even know who I'm talking about anymore.)
Soft curves sharp angles the outlines of your words, your shadow,
All biting into me.
I am your worst nightmare, and honey you've never seen me this vicious.
My metaphors are improving and I'm swiping my card one more time.
Signing my name.
Pushing buttons.
Conceit at its very worst.
I am getting much better at this.
Inches, feet, miles,
But somehow every sentence is still starting with I.
My priorities are shifting,
By inches,
My [inches]feet[miles] are bare and the sun is back on my neck.
I pushed you intounderaround my skin and now I think I'm okay.
And it's another notch in your bedpost, babe, but I'm just getting started.
I'm paperclipping my thoughts together for easy access and this is what comes from trying to get organized.
It's crawling up and down my arms,
And Elanor Rigby is just another face.
Flames lick up and it's surprising how much I don't mind.
I'm changing.
Reworking myself.
Please pardon the construction.
This is only for the attention.
Every coccoon is torture for each unlucky little catterpillar.
Maybe it's the alienation?
I don't know.
And again I'm adding myself up, but I don't think I'm enough anymore.
The sum of our parts and all of that.
Your intentions are always so much clearer with my corrective lenses.
Insert witty turn of phrase here.
You're not winning any fucking trophies, but then again neither am I.
You're bad and I'm worse and my skin is tainted with it.
The eyeliner's trying to hide what's just fine.
And it's running because you can't see past yourself.
Grow a brain, darling.
We all have to get over ourselves sometime.
But I'm a masochist and I think I'm going to stay inside my preprogrammed torture device just a bit longer.
Being trapped in yourself isn't so great.
But it's better than being wrapped up in everyone else's silk thread.
When I grow up, I want to be a jacket made in China.
Homegrown and adored for what I can do.'
Appreciated for my talents,even if they are only instinct.
Rapunzel never had it this good.
The spinach, not the girl, and things in fairytales always come in threes.
Three hearts, three kisses, three breaking points.
It's easier if I think about it that way.
Let's all beat at the same time and become a better lifesaving device than any defibrillator could hope to be.]
1. 2.I'm not trying to woo you.
3. 4. Not anymore.
And I'm back to simple rhymes.
See you on the other side?

and it's all just physics,

so why don't we fix this?
Let's steal some lines and break some hearts, babe.
Tripping over/on my words.
Puck would be proud.
Left right yes no stop.
Tilt you throat and slant your words.
Bring that bias by us, love.
Our itinerary today is right in her airwaves.
The lines of your neck crawling up and down my skin,
like goosebumps.
Like vowels and consonants and everything in between.
Aren't we all in between?
The roses that rose up to rope up your petty thought process.
Falling forever, and I'm getting awfully bored.


"Of all the gin joints in the world,

"she had to walk into mine."

I am a corporate whore, and sweetie things have never been this good.
I am standing on my head for this, but all I can bring myself to do is push him away.
Mary, Mary, quite Contrary,
How does your garden grow grow grow grow?
With metaphors and similies and poorly masked allusions to myself.

I woke up at dawn today.
Wake up! cried the sun, and wake up I did.
The light that fights what should be the night.
You always look your best when I'm on my knees.
It's almost comical how that word doesn't mean anything anymore.
Things to remember things to destroy things to never, ever forget.
All I do these days is destroy and try to forget.
Generally, I stepped up, and specifically, you were just this much bigger than me.
My fingers are breaking and I need a break and I need a splint.
I need you like I need a hole in my head.
I need another sunrisechancesurprisedance.
I'm about to be blown out of the water.
Give me something to not talk about, babe.
So here we are.
and it's live/die/live, but this empire I've created can only last so long.
Close my eyes when it crumbles
I cannot escape this
Wreckage of my carefully constructed walls.
Thank you for reminding me that there was something beating inside that was
And thank you for reminding me what it feels like to fall.
Battering tiny fists on tinnier voices
Your constant presence is a brick through my ever-effervescent window.
You took away my common sense
[cents? And to every penny saved is it plausible that I earn you back?]
Forget-me-nots and let-me-downs and want-so-cripplings
I hate you for the easy way you roll off my tongue
Nothing should ever be that simple.
He said, "Speak now, or forever hold you peace..."
And I got up and left.
Rash thoughts and irrational actions, but I'd rather hold my peace and my tongue than this persistently pumping ventricle out for you to sacrifice
Your myocardial infarction left me breathless.
Eviscerate me, baby. Give me a taste of what you're made of [[or at least an ingredient label]].
Empty casket pills rattle and taunt and keep me awake at night but they are liars.
I know exactly what I want and it is tearing me apart.
Three cheers to us and to this ticking time bomb.
It will surely take us down and drive me sane.
tradgedy of tradgedies
it touched your porcelain skin
your name is somewhere close to home
i break your back again
pick your mouth off my floor
regardless of what ive probably told you
you really can't eat off it

I am making a model of my human skeleton
[[axial, appendicular osteology]]
Camera's rolling.
Let's see if you can keep up.
This is my biggest chance to show you off.


I am much better for you than she could ever be.
I will never tell you this.
I am too nice for my own good.
I wish I was not afraid.
i am quiet and hopeless and unrefined as
[[and quietly hoping that i will find...]]
the small smile that plays across your lips
as you
stare across the room.
there is a light at the end of this tunnel and i shouldn't be heading towards it, really, but it's the one thing i do best.
following everyone else's lights.
lights and flights and kites
taking bites from my slightly overcast heights.
and i moved faster than that city
one thousand little grins that all reminded me ofyoumaybe
i've given not a thought to rotting
and this is so contrived but it's the only way i make sense anymore.
the light is flashing and telling me how wrong i am
i have no time leftswept bereft and deft
down your wire tired and inspired and electric.
a scheme is a plot is a plan
is another useless attempt to twist your actions to suit my twisted mind
full speed ahead to keep myself from wanting you
i am mercurial.i am erosive and silent and silver
i reflect and damage and destroy everything i touch
and i build myself up with these portraits of what uses me best.
i am poisonous.
i cannot create--only destroy.
and you are awake and unanesthesized
as i show you exactly what i am made of.
and i am slipping down your window, my hand slipping to your waist,
glass on glass on glass.
just another raindrop running your formerly flawless facade
sprawling cities and unwarranted goosebumps
write these words on your scarlet letter sky
curve them but they aren't nearly as graceless and open as your eyes.
i am small and out of place
i am soaring and for once not held down by my shadow
i am stagnated and i am pinned by every shallow gulp of air that i take into my pathetic lungs.
i am using all i statements.
i am crawling up the waterspout
i will perservere.
i'm taking back my small conceits
with which you built your house
those quiet eyes scream couplets at
my deaf unspeaking fingers

pick a dying daisy and
block out a dying sun
flaws duly noted and pushed
to the back of your mind

pretension is an easy
word to throw around
you have it mastered

like oedipus and his eyes
we have been separated
from our foolish selves
I am the initiative that tipped you over
I am the bursting vein in your throat and the creeping metallic taste on your tongue.
Exhausted and swollen,
shining and broken.
Trim the thicket of thorns around your ring finger.
It keeps your hand from the strings.
Leaves and glances furtively fall forwards.
Take counterclocwise baby-steps--there's only one left.

The lights and nights are as fake/bright
As the bite-sized breaths you take/fight.

I don't know which is worse, that it was there,
or that I never stood a chance.
'Please let me know,' but I never knew.
You only get one but some people never get it at all.

Wiggle my toes and dip them in and I'm gasping for air around your poor sweet suffocation.
There wil be no riding off into the sunset.
There will be no sunset.
I kick idly at the ground.
[[you're ohsodifficult sometimes all bated breath and twitching hands]]

This is not a universe with infinite possibilities.
We swim until we can't.
We run until the searing pain in our sides gets to be
just. too. strong.
And even the universe has a timer.

Forever is a very long time.
I'll show you what it really is.
That's not nearly as threatening as it should sound.
I bet you never looked at it that way
And every time I see him I taste poison
She screamed,
'Who am I,'
And I couldn't tell her a damned thing.

We worship warships
And remember embers.
I found the cure and no one cares--it's just another thing to sell.
I am so far gone that I'm eating my own dust. I am withering and reaping what I sow. I am NOT what I told you I am. I am the biggest and worst liar out there.
My baby's four neighborhoods over and I can't be bothered to leave the comfort of my bed.
Every time I look for you the sun goes down (also see: the difference between hate and really really really not liking someone.)
I stand on your porch and blink out the sun. I never was the best at clearing my head, but selective amnesia's becoming easier and easier.
But hear you me--you had lipstick on your teeth and your thighs around my waist.
Also see: kitchen counters.
Also see: only not hurting the people who don't matter.
Also see: enjoying this too much for your own good.
The only factor that taints it is your own poor attitude, and honey you had never seen a worse one until you met me.
I used to make my parents proud.
Spilled your fingernail polish, sang louder than I've ever heard you, and polished off my heart. Are you full yet?
No matter how many snide remarks you make, you've still got a bit of ventricle stuck in your canines. You've done something with it, I see. Braiding my vocal cords together and wrapping them around your ring finger wasn't exactly what I had mind, but it's creative and done skillfully enough. Your picket-fence ideals have impaled my last shattered breath and I'm broken.
Also see: propoganda and thought control 101.
Also see: hangnails galore.
Also see: how I can't get what I need but the things that I think I want come at me like shrapnel, and I know I shouldn't be comparing one small misery to the next, much greater one, but I can't take my own advice.
Scraped my knees on your linoleum floor, swallowed your porcelain tongue, and cut open my esophagus. It's gory but the goosebumps are indicative of how little I think of you and your eyes and your smile and every. single. word. that punches out from behind your perfect teeth.
The poet in me is screaming for justice but poetic license says
I scream the words I want
and he doesn't have to be satisfied. I have known you in every life I've lived.
By your shaking ankles, I KNOW she has murdered me. (murder me, murder me)
We rise to defend ourselves just as quickly as the hairs at the nape of my neck raise to meet what they're sure will destroy them.
I have a ringing in my head and no one to help me answer it. (Gotta love how it's somehow all on me.)
It's so difficult to be what you deserve but this is all really only another excuse.
Sometimes I wish I knew what I wanted before it was too late.
Also see:apathy vs. empathy.
Also see:copernicus and galileo and eveyrone else who couldn't give themselves a break.
Also see:total destruction of the soles through the reconstructon of the soul.
You make it so hard to say what I need to.
bottling lightning to keep me in check
i hope you know i'm talentless and broken and airing all my dirty laundry for you
you shock me into raising my sleeves/defenses
it's not what i want or need but it's what i've got and it's got potential and i've got to work with it.

and even if it's really not

no matter what i tell you i am still a mess
broken hearts in empty places
stolen lives on public faces
pictures on a private forum with a dashing gash of red and two bright green husks
chipped-away fingernails tell you everything you need to know
mayday, mayday the flare's gone off
the bow hit the highest c i've ever heard when it finally

no one recognized the signal.
the hollow nervous sound of the fireworks.
mayday, mayday
my fingers are cracking open like the lobster you had for lunch the other day.
dead and coated
i laugh in its face
in the face of it
at the very fine line i'm trying oh so hard to walk.
sorry officer but i'm incapable of walking straight.
lock me up.
i'm incapable of dealing with myself.
it's better if i don't.
keep me away from society.
i'm incapable and i fall far too short for this.
i don't have the time.
it's pretty much physically impossible for me not to love you.
i'm a horrible liar, but i'm doing pretty well so far.
i fail.
I blink, but all the streetsigns say your name and the streetlamps are your eyes.
I smell [where there's smoke there's] fire and I taste home--tastes like you
The dock looms in front of me and catcalls "Do something stupid."
Screams, "Why are't you here yet?"

Callow cowards crown queens.
There's a fire in our grotto, even if you've forgotten.
I've never seen a signal as bright as yours
Something old--something new--something borrowed--something blue.
Rang in the new year in the form of drinks spilled on blouses and newly bought houses.
I'm crossing my fingers and holding my breath.

I have no pride; I have forgotten to make myself work.
Thursday never lived up to the freckles above your eyebrow, but I'm stilll going going gone
The lights are so pretty but all it is is another star exploding.

The trap door broke and dumped me onto her
I can't find the lightswitch but i know where i should be
I clutch the windowsill (ones and zeros) and wish for a knight in shining armor or someone to make a scene (but maybe I'm really wishing for...)
I'm a cowboy and an indian,
you're a cop and a robber,
and it's our mission to destroy ourselves.
How do you feel about destroying ourselves together?
Pictograph in pink and green (pink for your insides and green for your envy)
I snap another clever cut as you try to feign indifference, because you notice but you never risk a cmnt.
You're six to my half-dozen.
Four to one the diamond to my rough and I hate that I can't stop this.
Where 'this' clearly means 'belonging to you'.

Good morning Apple Blossom Almond Doll.
Your marzipan fingers have been chewed and skewed and elected king.
Sing me something out of key before i'm left in the dark.
I can only focus on my faults.

going to the doctor because my mouth's flourescent green

(or:: a mathematical equation in two parts, where you+me=everything, but only if you get our coefficients right.)
It's our everyday experiment and you and I are the only constants, even when all you do is ch-ch-ch-change.
We're dancing to the beat of the same drummer as everyone else, but it's the closest to escaping when my heart's pounding in my ears.
[tell YOU tell ME tell HER, a complete percussion set of yes and no, of youlovemeyoulovemenotnotnot]
An identity crisis of high prices with high shine.
Couplets of wrist bindings and revenge.
I am a daydreamer of the highest order. (have I gotten sick recently, Doctor? No, of course not. Only worse.)

She shouts in perfect steady harmony, the bassline to my drums. We are the entire rhythm section of your old middle school's jazz band, her voice and my heart.
She makes me want to throw a mug of steaming-hot tea at the side of a brick building and savor the sound as it crashes.
She is a fiberglass splinter, the kind you get from taking out memories.She finds ways to cut like glass down my iron-coated throat.
She finds pills in strange places and she finds the time to down them all.She believes in time, but not in feelings.
She believes in me, but not herself.
She is the whorl of sickly color making its way across your cheekbone, just under your left eye.
She is the whirl of leaves across the pavement, late, late in fall.
She is stubborn and incohesive and nonsensical, and she will make herself work if it's the last thing she does, goddammit.
She is a car crash (hope I don't get whiplash) and a bouquet of flowers (hope I don't go into anaphylactic shock) and an asprin (hope I don't OD) and she is far too expensive for me.

I'm checking my ingredient list twice.
Let's see what I can do.
les autres filles qui dit avec celui, elles ne voulent dire pas cela qu'elles disent.
je ne suis pas celui pour toi. tu n'appercevois pas moi. je ne suis pas que tu as pensé.
ils ont pas idée;
et comme chaque chanson tu es moins ma fille.
il y a une grande quantité que tu ne sais pas.
a-y-t'il que tu n'as pas perdu?

c'est n'est pas poésie. c'est une prière. ne fait pas cette erreur.