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.


iknowiknowiknowanditiskillingme


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.

Blink.

Blink.

and you are awake and unanesthesized

as i show you exactly what i am made of.

Blink.

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.

runrunrun
[[THERE IS NO END IN SIGHT]]
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.
[[THERE IS NO END IN SIGHT]]
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.
[[THERE IS NO END IN SIGHT]]
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
[[THERE IS NO END IN SIGHT]]
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
finally

cracked.
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.