my dreams keep waking me
in the middle of the night
i watch the day pour into
my room in 15 minute
intervals. the time it takes
for my subconscious to fade
to conscious and back again
i dream of bones of a beast
in my womb. i dream of
someone next to me while
i lie in bed. it is not the
content of the dream 
which scares me, but their
origin. what or who is bombarding
me of these sensations without
my consent? or what scares
me the most that perhaps
i am the one choosing to create
these unsettling mirages.
while all of us have these
dreams - horrific- fortelling
of the future - subtle - our
conscious rational minds
push them out of our waking
life. we forget
but i’m no longer forgetting
and my anxieties of each
state are bleeding into one
and so my dreams keep 
waking me at night. and
at day. i’m no longer
safe from the deepness
of complete sleep.

you’re so unsettling. and yet
so comforting. you asked me
if i could promise you if we
could always be friends.
because i am one of your
best friends. and that
question made me feel
shitty. even if your intentions
were good. it’s like we
are both waiting for one 
another to unravel. you
in a spiral me in a knot.
we share intimate moments
making quiet love for days.
a record plays in the kitchen. 
we get tacos at 3pm.
we smile and each other with our
eyes squinted.
i drink around you to
feel more sexy. to convince
myself that you will find me not later in life
but now. Don’t tell me that
you’ll always be there for me. just
be here with me now. 
it’s like we both know
that we have a string tied
from my hips that connect to your waist.
and we keep walking away
from one another. as we do
the string gets taught
and i pluck it. 
it plays a boring C note.
which probably stands for just 
a craving.

laying on mumbi’s couch
her on the opposite side
sharing a mexican blanket
we were abducted. by this
white, flickering light turning
red and spewing blue lights
around it. we were being watched
the whole while
visions of hands, infesting insects 
and swollen cocks
filled my head. 
almost as if i invited them
inside of me.
Mumbi and I sank lower
and lower into the couch
in the dark, dirty living room
and a heavy current circled 
itself around us and the couch.
a dense current of a smokey
terrible lipstick stained, 
jaw clenching vapor.
turning its viscosity to
honey but its sweetness
to pure, raunchy sex.
and mumbi and me, 
paralyzed, waited
for some kind of substance to
break over sleep in the
waking life. to stop
the vapor honey from circling in on us.
to quit
to quit

i’m really good at lying.
I wasn’t actually sick those
days we were supposed to go
walking outside. instead
i went in a car. I drove to the ocean
and i thought how i could never really 
enjoy the ocean. or
walking with you.
or anything of that matter. 
I pretended I had a headache. 
but really my jaw just hurt from clenching
your lack of purpose in between 
my teeth. from those nights
when you slept in my bed 
with me with your back to me.
all the while you wake up 
and leave unannounced while i
pretend i’m sleeping
but have been up all night
grinding my teeth
and watching them fall
onto my pillow and waiting
for the tooth fairy to come and make
love to my fucking fingers.
until she’s satisfied.
and asks me, do you want
to go on a walk with me?
and i then tell her that i’m fucking really sick.
but i have no teeth, so she doesn’t really
get what i mean.

It’ll get drunk, she said.
pointing at the Evan Williams’ Bottle.
At first i had this image of a 
whiskey bottle fumbling and 
falling because it was wasted.
but what she really meant
was that we would drink all 
of the alcohol and we
would stumble on flat rocks
overlooking the ocean with
the sun cascading down
her and his boring face.
it’ll get drunk. 
imagine if intimate objects
got inebriated
imagine if they used substances
to escape the 
monotony of the everyday.
to forget their materiality.
to stop thinking about their purpose.
intoxicated until the bottle falls and breaks. 
it’ll get drunk
to be full of alcohol is a verb, 
past tense of drink. 
how very simple.
how very sad.
when we are intoxicated
we are a past tense verb.
not in the present.

she looked up and saw a lonely bird
fly over the fucking sky
she said, “it’s a loner”
i said “yeah’ but instead
was looking at a buoy in the distance dancing on the ocean
she sympathized with life.
i sympathized with an object.
does that say something
about our differences?
or just our fucking necessity
to reach out and feel
something other than
our pitiful rise and
fall of our chests in
our smoke infested crevices.
inhale smoke.
exhale smoke.
around the living.
around the vibrating objects.
whether the breathing life
looks lonely
or the vibrating object
looks lonely.
we are lonely.
fumbling to make contact.
panicking at the
sight of something
that appears to be without
any purpose.
because there are enough of us
like that.

“Your cheekbones bring about smiles”
she said on a couch
in a crowded room with
smoke and cake and alcohol.
i turned to her and said, 
this is the first time i’ve been happy
in weeks. we both sort of laughed
and then we drank more. and then
we road in a car with an apple pie
in the backseat.
i accidentally stuck my thumb in it.
because thor was driving so 
i licked my thumb.
it tasted really good.
thor got really mad.
the pie was supposed to go to
his sister.
but why was it in a car at 4am.
he drove us home
and as soon as
she left me.
my cheekbones sank.
deep into my face.

we pretended to make
small talk. as his shitty
girlfriend was drowning
in her own self consciousness
we talked about x-files
we talked about twin peaks.
as if those shows were what
we really wanted to talk about.
you asked me how
my fucking cat was.
because how
dare you ask how i 
was doing. because that
would elude to how
we talked that night
in olneyville. you told me
you remembered four years ago how
i undressed in front of you.
you told me you had to go.
you walked outside.
i led you to the corner.
you grabbed my ass.
and on the corner of 
olneyville square, you told me
that you loved me.
and then you walked away.
so now we just make 
small talk. while your
girlfriend looks dumb.
infront of everyone and then
you sneak me this pathetic
glance. is it a look of S.O.S
or a look of “i’m sorry”
whatever it is
i don’t care.
i’ll just continue to drink
with pigtails in my hair.

for one second i got
my hopes up. but whenever
that happens, my hair
gets greasy and
i look really shitty
and pathetic. it's like
everyone, look at this
person who set 
herself up for failure
i’m a t-rex with
short fucking arms 
that fell down and 
can’t get up.
jurassic eeyore. wish
i was doomed to extinction
by a gigantic shitty 
rock. i swear i’m cold
cant stand to sit in darkness.
but i do it to have the satisfaction in waiting 
for the sun. but then i’m expecting things.
and feeling like shit when 
i realize mammals are more evolved than reptiles.
the snake knows all and temps the breasted beast.
but the breasted beast, can step on the snake.

I thought you were long gone
but you came to me at 3am
really fucking drunk
and i was pathetic
we crawled into bed
and fell asleep instantly
until 1:00pm and
went out for breakfast.
poached eggs for the both of us
then we went back to my house and
went back to bed
and then we ate dinner
and then we took a bath
each of us held
a handle of whiskey
in the tub. naked.
my best memories have
been made in that tub 
in rhode island...
with her and now with him.
we stayed in until the water
turned warm and
it with hot water.
you kissed me like you loved me.
the bubbles all popped and we realized
we were lying in 
dirty murky water.
i turned on the shower
and we made love standing up
it was awkward.
i fell asleep later next to you
while we watched the jetsons.
i am usually begging 
a man to stay longer, 
but this time i didn’t have to.
we let our fingers turn to prunes
in a bath of each other’s company.
and the new day came.
i brewed extra strong coffee
and you played my guitar.
my chin hurt from rubbing on yours
while we kissed.
and finally 1pm came
and you left me.
filled with so much new love
for you. squinting eyes
you are my late afternoon lover.

“i like jazz” he said
“round midnight. not everyone
loves it. i like to be near the ocean”
these two old guys
scooted closer
to each other
and kept talking
the other one said,
“i read this article called, 
‘drinking in the afternoon’”
they both laughed.
it was fucking ten in the morning.
they were about to teach a web design class.
they reminisced — one man about
college days in the netherlands.
the other i have no idea where 
the hell he’s from
but the accent is 
strong and syrupy.
these two men. 
they appreciate the
finest of things. 
and know nothing of web design.


“come back the party’s
just started. it’s fun
and there’s LSD now”
the party had looked fun
when i left
but it never would have
actually been fun.
i had to drive this kid home.
and to be honest
i wanted to leave.
to drive him home.
it’s like why do
i have to pretend
to belong in this fucking city
where it’s winter for more
than half a year.
where i pretend to be too busy
so i wont take
LSD with this
guy. who is beautiful.
who has a girlfriend.
somewhere in LA.
and where does he get that
fucking smile
that i just fall into.
i had to drive this kid home.
so i could go home
so i could like awake in bed
and imagine a grimey
beautiful man
trip the fuck out on acid.

have you ever
taken advil pm
for more than a month
you remember your
sister saying...
“you’ll get addicted
to sleeping aids”
“you can’t get addicted to
advil” you say
am i addicted to 
sleep aids?
has it only been a month.

the snooze button
is a dull reminder

remember how we got cable television
free for five years?

you’re standing in front of the mirror
you finally look
at your nose
it’s his
your mouth
it’s his
then you think
“he’s felt this way before too”
so you think….
“ill ask him…”
but you can’t.

“do you know where the hospital wrist band is?”
“i hid it”
“i like to see it before i go to bed”
“that’s not the way to remember him”
“why not”
“it’s too sad”
“what happened was sad”
“yeah but you can be hopeful”
“how he is dead.”
“i don’t know you can have it. just put a nice picture of him by it.”

a body
so heavy
so empty
unless it’s crying
other than that
it’s a cup.

i don’t want to call the funeral home
i don’t want to ask
for a discount
i don’t want to talk
to the sleazy funeral director, jeff.
i don’t want to be twenty five.
i don’t want to return to a normal life.
i don’t want to take on these experiences.
i don’t want to take on being 
a father
a brother
a husband.
but i look like him.
so i have to.

"It’s so good
you were there
and you got
to say goodbye”
she says to me…
no it wasn’t
you cunt.
nothing about
any of this
is good.

i get worried
i’ll never find something
or read something
or see something
that makes sense again
or makes me smile again
that i’ll work and
find sucess in a way
that my dad
will be ok with.
that i’ll make sense
within the context
of our relationship
and i’ll begin
putting my tiny
little life
back together.

time is the least obtrusive weapon.
silent but deadly.
it’s an invisible
its waste on
our foreheads
and sprinkles
shadows along
our contour.
time is not a father.
because it took mine.
the bastard took 
my father’s father too.
so watch out.
they say “time heals all wounds”
well watch out
because that monster called time
is just giving you charity
it feels bad
because it knows
the only way
he’s going to get away with this
is to kill you.

i never feel bored anymore.
i worry about how much i sleep.
i dont bother to talk to that one guy.
i dissolve any thought
like sugar in water.
i drink water more often.
i feel myself vibrate.
then i realize
it’s my iphone.
steve jobs is dead too.

i crave three cigarettes.
not one after morning coffee
not two after dinner,
on the stairway with the 
lights on using that ashtray
she stole from minneapolis
at that one indian restaurant
with that one boy
who still makes you sigh.
i crave three cigarettes
the three i nervously
quickly, semi enjoy
alone. 2AM you almost go to bed.
but the feeling of staying up 10 
more minutes longer seems so much better
than being alone
with yourself.

hi ghost.

“beep beep beep”
your sister says
you realize
you like people
who make noises
when you can’t
really pick
the right words
to say.
like lily.
her dad was supposed to die
before mine.
like lily, 
my father loved her so.

“is charlie brown jewish?”
“is that the name of the poem?”
“no just curious”
“i don’t think so”
“he begrudgingly 
celebrates christmas 
so i just assume he’s a realist.”

something is wrong
when you try
to buy a house
in north oaks
want to paint it purple
but the closed community
says no.
this happens everyday
in america.

i worry that these
still moments
will be the ones
i forget.
i worry my mind
will turn blank.
when it tries to recall
what i did
as i pass.

fold the sheets
then twice.
then three times.
now four.
fold your arms
now once
then twice
then three times.
now four.
fold the dough
then twice,
then three times
now four.
fold your cards.
just once.

if death is just like falling asleep
are we murdering our life
like the way
we kill our day
each night.
maybe each night
we are just slowly
what we will be doing
for eternity.
not living
but sleeping.
do i even like
the way i look
when i sleep?
if eternity is
a photograph
our eyes
are always closed in it.
“you blinked” you say
disappointed as you look 
at the picture of your life.

everyone i know
is a light.
reflecting off of
a moment
i have selfishly
and kept to
as a souvenir.
that just will be
because i didn’t build
a monument for it.
i also don’t know how to.

how will i explain
the way my father’s hair smelled
to my children.

when i nodded my head yes.
while people continued to their destinations
one by one
they all disappeared
was just us
on the floor.
in the airport
a moment
i’m sure the airport sees often.

i yelled at
my Scandinavian grandpa
just the way
my daddy did
that one time
at my sister’s birthday
because i didn’t want to hug him.
if only you could see me now, daddy.
you would be so proud.
i finally inherited your anger
it escaped from your lips
into me
right next to that hospital bed.
grandpa's dead now too
wherever you guys are
i hope you never find each other

he was always so worried about me
“be careful”
i should have warned him instead.
maybe he already knew.
because his warnings
years ago
in me

life is
as thoughtful
as you think it is.
so i try
to not think
so hard
but it’s difficult
when the thoughts
cloud up your clear mind
around the vibrating sun.

i drove past a bus full
of flight attendants
they were so alive.
“they will fly all over the world”
i thought
“will they be buried
in their flight attendant uniforms?”
i wonder
“i hope so”
i zoom past them.

there is nothing in this home.
that is mine.
i wish for
a man with long
black hair
to lay next to me
on this couch.
which isn’t mine.
that was just one year ago.
that you told me
that you loved me.
those were times
when nothing
was sure.
it was when
everything was 
mine in this home.
now all i own is a bed.
and all i’m sure of is that i will die.

i think you fell
in love with
a different person
now that we live
side by side.
i think you signed
a contract
that didn’t say
“until death does us apart”
but rather a contract
that said
“until his death tears us apart”

at the rate i’m dying
judging my grand father’s death
and now my father’s death
i’m due in 10 years.
my poor mother.

“if there is anything i can do to help you… let me know”
they all say
how about just
take the initiative
and just do something.
you stupid fuck.
do you really think
i have the stupid time
to come up
with ways you could
make me feel better
only to make yourself feel better?
fuck you.
fuck your consistent life.
fuck me
why don’t you
do that.
it’ll make me feel numb
and it’ll make you feel worse.

i wanted to grow up fast
if i would have known
how i could
i would have refused it.

if it was his head
that killed him
if it was his stomach
that killed him
it will be my heart
that will kill me
my lungs
my breasts
my center
my core 
will kill me.

i’ve been so afraid to write.
to expose my emotions.
like a fan
blowing on a damp piece of paper.

i sat next to him
at a restaurant
he was eating things
he shouldn’t
and across from him,
was his father.
in his beret.
i was smoking.
“you know you shouldn’t be eating that”
i said
“you shouldn’t be here, you are dying”
i said to him
the man in a beret looked at me and smiled
and said
“but we’re all dead, elena”
i looked at him and took a drag of my cigarette and said
“i know”

los angeles

it’s fucking hot as hell.
i bought this big ass fan at Walgreens.
when i plugged it in expecting a blast of cool air- 
i just got a stupid whisper.
scooting closer to the fan to hear what it was whispering to me
she said i was cheap
what did i expect for $19.98?
i told her that her size was misleading.
she whispered.
i shouted.
if only it could have been the other way
it’s fucking hot as hell
and all i have is a shy fan
and my anger
being blown back at me
in whispers.

Where are you? 
I left you in bed
i left you my silky
stupid lingerie
now you just send
me new lingerie
in the US postal mail
does the US postal know
how much i hate our memories.
because they are just
their worth?
a postage stamp.
you think you’re fucking
to have fucked
and then left me in Los Angeles.
Wilted palm trees.
the landscape rises and falls
to your heavy breathing.
and you aren’t even here.
i left you in my bed
a year ago.
i loved you
you were unsure of love.
and now you have made me

“that’s a cockroach?
i said to him.
the bug looked stupid.
it looked a lot
like this dude i knew
who was really into
self loathing —
and also hoarding.
i could imagine
if you squashed the cockroach —
or the dude i knew…
they both
would make a crusty-crunch noise.
“kill it”
i said.
he did.
his dog ate it.

Sitting between two men
who ignore my presence
and talk about fitness
to ignore them is impossible
since i am sitting in between them.
i order a water from the steward.
“double gin?” he says
“no, water” i respond.
He floats down the aisle
and looks at me writing.
“a list of grievances?”
he asks.
“yes I respond”
he hands me a glass of gin.

Always flirt more than you 
actually mean to flirt.
it will get you
that much further in life.
there is no such thing
as being too much of a whore.
flirt with the guy who
has oysters in his beard.
he will learn to fish.
flirt with your mom
she will learn how to flirt with
your dad.
flirt with you uncle, but not too much
because it could get scary.
most importantly, flirt with yourself,
because you’ll be surprised by how
many things you’ll buy for yourself.

Don’t mend something
that is meant to unravel into a mess
in front of you to tie around your 
fingers into a marionette.
or into a cats cradle.
or into a sweater.
don’t mend something
that was “in” two 
seasons ago.
it was made poorly and made
for consumption.
it was made to
be a rag
to clean up
spilt coffee
in your living room.
don’t mend a tearing
especially if you
find yourself re-sewing something
you already altered.
take the thread and needle
put it away. 
put it away. 

a cup of coffee
fulfills me
more than you do.

wearing white just
to watch it get dirty
sitting on pavement
and letting the smog
seep into the cloth
to wash it would be
a lie. an homage
to the fake white
of this city. instead
i take off my dirtied
clothes in the kitchen
and watch the dirt
on the floor squirm
over to the linen
pathetic, the clothes
crawl, dirtied
under my stove
where i once saw
a cockroach flee
to hide
and die
day after day i 
lose my clothes
to the filth underneath
my furniture
filling my house
with furniture from
second hand stores
to harbor
filth to soil
what is white
to keep filling
an emptiness that’s
meant to be
dirty. an emptiness
i wear when
i put on my filth
and sit on my couch
and watch on her television
only if tears
washed away the stains
but instead they lead
a trail to the cockroach
who lives under my stove
the cockroach leads a
trail to goodwill.
where he finds
love with more dirt
and then he brings
the dirt back home
to me.

“I cant believe black
beauty dies” she says
black beauty black beauty
he’s strong and he’s moody
we all watch as the water
turns red.
and laugh.
i never was afraid
of horses.
dumb, powerful
gentle but meat.
if i don’t fear
i do not fear
any meat or flesh.
We just laugh
at the embarrassment
of beauty
into our mean giggles
dripping into spit
that falls into
our movie theatre popcorn.

“don’t lean on the rail for your own safety, ma’am” he said
for my own safety, i shouldn’t
have even showed up to the gallery.
i wish i could have jumped off
the side of the railing.
i wanted to look even stupider
but couldn’t. 
“of course” i said
backing away from the edge
i looked down at my feet
wearing shoes.
“punch me in the stomach” i wish
i could have demanded
Chinatown was at the top
Mike Kelly
at the bottom.
kiss me now or forever hold
your splat.
watch me lean because
i’m drunk at an art exhibition
for a man who killed himself.

I’m collecting robes.
one for each time
i wake up and feel stupid.
one to put on when
i boil lonely water
for the coffee i make
and wont drink all of
one where i 
put on expensive lingerie
to feel
like that one movie
i watched about L.A.
one to put on
when i need something
to drape me
when i feel cold
but not too cold
just insecure.
and clenching my jaw.
and one to put on top
of all the others
and another
to put on top
of the one
on top of all the others.

when i’m hungry
i eat an apple.
i try to imagine.
what it would be
like if the apple
was a clock.
that i lost a few years ago.
when i wasn’t
so aware of how
heavy my thighs felt
in american apparel jeans.
when i’m thirsty
i don’t drink water.
i draw a bath.
and pour and plop
in a bushel of clocks
and bob for more apples.

i thought i would be 
better at this.
but now i just own
a dog.
and fill him up
with the anxieties
i used to fill myself up with.
maybe that’s why
dog years exist.

i don’t need a shoulder to cry on
i just need a car to cry in
if i said i wasn’t afraid
you know i’d be lying.
i’ve been growing my nails
and hair out
i’m trying
to function in society
not a gender neutral buy in.
i pray to re runs of rugrats
that i haven’t grown up yet
i’m the type to still lose
sleep over how i killed my neo pet
i toss and turn over dead
icons that i never will meet or have met
if you tell me not to do one thing
thats the thing i’ll most likely do
how do you think
i got into
and eating junk food.

we would all like to take action
but we can’t get out of bed
would like to hear you out
but can’t get out of our own heads
why do some of us get second
third chances as a friend
i’m vacant and i need a vacation
exposed and blatant without developed skill
i’m not ready to die yet
but i’ve taken the red pill.

you don’t have a voice
you lost it on the internet
i’m resetting my password daily
even if i didn’t forget
the letters that make words
that spread your proxy wide
if i delete my facebook
is it considered suicide?

page through the obituary
i’m obsessed with death
hoping that i’ll see me
taking my own last breath
at a food for less
what a twist
i’ve been dead all along
and you’re still clenching your fist.
i’ve been ghosting you
for some time now
thats why i don’t pick up the phone
all his old friends
asking me why i’m still alone.
but please try and think
of me once in awhile
because i think about you
dead, and i smile.
am i hallucinating?
did i die
and become a dairy queen?
doing more blow
than a bing crosby blizzard scene

too young to die
too restless to be alive
i’m not here to listen 
to your problems.
try to make me listen
i wont solve them

I feel like being accommodating
used to be awkward hesitating
i’ve never made anything
but your bed.
and you’ve made it hard
for me to get myself out of my head.
i take the window seat
i watch the ocean for awhile.

how can i see beauty
when you’re standing in the way
there’s enough literature
in this world and you have
nothing to say.
to playstation 2’s and vodka red bulls i pray.

eye can’t see you.
when you scream beetle juice
staring straight through
the mirror like bloody mary is loose.

i keep looking down under my covers
i whisper to my bed sheets
“how many did i think
were actual lovers?”
my sheets reply
“they think they are above us”
it’s true, but even knowing that
are they really done
with us?
they’re never really done
with us.

i used to be wild.
but now i’m dumping
prince mp3 files
and falling asleep on the job while
grinding teeth through my smile
when did my life become so mild
when did my life become so mild.

tonight i met
who u all think is an idol
thought too hard
so i took extra strength midol.
not for the pain
but just for the tradition
red stained pants.
soaking in the sink in the kitchen
meeting a tall white guy
who everyone thinks is cool
he’s the guy you
all studied in art school.
i don’t really have a lot of money.
but i do own a shitty car.
and i just met this guy
who thinks i could be a star
and i’m kneeling over.
because this extra strength midol
is making me have existential moments 
like “what should i do?”
be a little bitch
roll over like fido.
i’m clenching my pelvis
like elvis in front of my idol.

if you leave
life will go on
but i will be
much more quiet
my mind will have space, again
for a month
i have lived
in your fantasy
but if you leave
when you leave

you say i’m too sexy
not that good either
please hold me back
before i kill this preacher
let me air out
my pussy on your face.
because its my best feature
not a disgrace
i’m your fantasy sexless creature
a slave to your oppressed whims
stumbling to feel anything
and scraping my shins.

i reached out to a friend
about the pain of living
he’s just as depressed
imagine the life you live
but with no sex.

being a woman
is about hiding the fight.
no moment to be proud
just affirming a man he’s right
just take in his emotions
no witches brew
shuffling of tiny feet
i follow close behind you
waiting like a bitch
for him to throw a bone.
is it rock bottom
when your with him but you’re alone
i think i’m going through these emotions
or are these motions
in-between dark underlying notions
of being a woman
but i guess i’ll say
that i’ve found some ways
to make my mother proud
i’ve learned to listen
and to scream less loud
to fall back into a crowd
to say things like

how is it alright
for you to sit there
telling me
not to fight
promising you still care
i’m staying up all night
wondering if this is really fair.
do i deserve this
look at my life
and try to tell me
it’s perfect
is it worth it
or are our intentions
as we repeat
and try to work this
mirthless body back to life
i hurt this.
you heard this.
i hurt this.

my childhood punishments
have become my adult hobbies

i will never fade away.
i know my fate.

we are disney adidas rats
who text all our exes.
riding jeeps with no tops
straight flexing our stresses.

this is what it must have felt like
before the titanic sank
palm springs
are you thirsty

i think about you everyday.

AT&T ass tits and teens
in the chrome extension search
in cognito
on the phone
in the bathroom stall
at work
stains on my hands
like eating hot cheetos
screenshots of thoughts
penis in hand
like warm burrito

super predator
brown criminal with blonde hair

i’m terrified of my own self
over clothing my body 
and praying
for white wealth
my name isn’t nothing
it’s my image sensationalized
bringing out primitive fears 
when you see my brown skin
and brown eyes.

brown hair
brown clothes
big ass
big nose
brown all
surrounded by white
i’m shit in a toilet bowl.

born vulnerable
and not equal
here’s a hearse
and here’s a steep hill
here’s a blindfold
now just gun the gas
you’re destined for nothing!
but you were blessed with an ass!

i called my brown skin olive
so it sounded closer to fair
feeling vulnerable and guilty
so i bleach my hair.

we’re all medicated
and he’s frustrated
everything wrong about you
he’s already indicated
every monster you’ve defeated
he creates a new one
crawling on your back.

we don’t feel anything
because we’re too busy
feeling for you
i used to have my sex
but you took away my screw
i think i’m feeling oppressed
but what can i do
living hands tied behind my back
bobbing to kiss an asshole
secretly hoping to bite down
on snow whites apple.

bring out your pain
put it on me
bring out your anger
put it on me
bring out your disappointment
you can lose your self control.
i have no pain
i have no anger
i have no disappointment
i am a woman.
a gaping hole to fill.


I'm going to rise above this
beyond horizons on your kiss
nail in the coffin
i'm going to show you what i'm worth
if you've said it once
i've said it a million times
i need to make this moment
i need to make it mine
we've outgrown this
type of behavior
to label my martyrdom
your savior
it's a flavor
to rich to savor
my instincts ripped torn
shamed present
and i've spent all favors
i will lift myself beyond this
and you will do the same
there's power in letting go
there's power in my name
you will lift me up above you
beyond this pain

The sun sets and it's getting colder
on a rooftop in LA -- our dreams
get biggger as we grow older
you'll be my fantasy
i'll live inside it
not exist in reality
persist in denying my fatality
making wishes on dead stars
and predictions off the zodiac
taking each way he shows
me love as an attack
on that rooftop and the
look in your eyes -- take me back
can't hold onto anyone
for more than five days flat

This hurts in so many ways
but through the chaos I'll stay
plant my feet upon this earth
with no fire
there is no rebirth

I can only guess that the end is near
I found him laughing and hanging
on the chandelier
it all seems so familiar
i've left and returned here
welcome to forever
you're looking so much better
you'd stay if you were clever
don't you know that we've been waiting
for years.
welcome to forever.
you belong here.
With our hands together
the depths of darkness feels much better
the warmth is that much wetter
with little bribe you can bet her
don't you know
that we've been waiting
for years.

So he leads me to the neon exit sign.
The carpets stained- it's dark but we're fine
because one walks confidently into the unknown
when she makes it her house her home
acrylic cruise ships
pass in the night
crumbling towers
flower crowns melting the fight
and still the neon exit sign
glows bright
and for once she feels right

I'm starting to think
that it has nothing to do with you
you know we tried
and you chose her
and i'm left here alone.
It's not the first time
your one of the many few
to look me in my eyes
tell me i'm the one
then go off with someone not new.
maybe my expectations are set too high
and my reservations
come off frigid
but i'm going to keep living
but i'm going to keep living
no not for you
but for mountain dew.

Is dreaming like dying
I die for our love
and dream for the truth
is a dream a shortened death
i dream of you and my heart
skips a breath
but wont you kill me
but maybe you already did
a decision made
and I can barely live
I'm trapped in your dreams
and they're heavy like snow
i've mapped what you did to me
but this muse has no where to go

It gets quiet when you've been gone
has it only been a day
do you even know
since you did this wrong.
you've betrayed my false naivety
to feel less alone.
I'm on autopilot
we're on autopilot
when did this life turn to
cruise control
when did we finally
just let go
when did you get less exciting
when did you know
that we're dying
smiling pedal to the metal
here we go
here we go

flight or fight
i'm going to run
away from the pain
what's done
is done
i'll pretend you've died
flowers on your grave
but you're my only one
i'm your five day lover
i'm your five day lover
there's no one to blame for the brevity
except the other
I try to be relaxed
I try to be cool
i know I sealed our fate
i know just what you'd do
one just like the other
tapestries of pain
woven in slipknots
for each narcisistic gain
the moths eat through us
leaving holes that fit our fingers
reminding me of your love
that haunts me and still lingers.
flight or fight
i'm going to run
and never look back
the fight isn't worth the effort
i've lost all fact
as I run I spark a fire
to burn our passion
to burn our desire
i've burned all connection
i've burned my own soul
i've burned spinal tissue
i've burned all I know
including the memories
we briefly made
there's no mesiah
if there's nothing to save
no lust, if there's nothing to crave
no city to build
with no foundation made
i'm running to the horizon
i only hope.
that you watch me

I keep you deep and hidden
it's where I keep my shame
i keep you far and silent
it's where i hold my pain
a warm but desolate space
between my collar bones
and it's been sometime now
before I let some one into
my body's home
new love we soon will expire
so i'll take your touch
i'll take your desire
we have histories
that don't involve one another
you choose comfort
i choose false lovers
i'm a soft love
with mercy forgiveness humility
and you were inches away
from knowing me
make me stronger
make me care
for a love again
promsie me it's actually there
I've been plotting my own end
with no sin
no life
a loss
and a win.

she sits
on the corner of the sofa
and I fall in love
with the skin under her chin
with each moment
I capture here by my eye
is my own silent rapture
and I die
she's a married woman
to lust for simply is sin
a grey streak in her hair
and her thoughts so sincere
we talk about nothing
but the message is clear
I found you I found you!
We say in hidden tones.
It's with women like you, talia
I've found a home.