"of all the things
i could've broken
Butterflies.You said, “Yellow brick roads never led home.” For a long while, I chose to believe they didn’t. For a long while, I let your definitions define me so even if just for a while, I could have meaning. You said, ‘You can’t paint roses red, that’s not how color works,’ but I hadn’t seen much color as a child so I let you give me your monochromatic sight. You said, ‘Rabbits weren’t meant for waistcoats,’ so I let him go, hoping. Hoping, he wouldn’t be late.
You said, today could start with Once-upon-a-time but Ever-Afters had no guarantees. You said you could be the prince but I had to be Cinderella in shard shoes. You said dwarves had standards.
You said the Magic Mirror had never heard of me. You said I couldn’t name the colors of the wind. You said the ‘Dragons be here,’ on optimistic maps was wrong. You said I had no place in fairytales because they were lies with paperback wings.
Let me tell you a
Untitled.sing to me
in your ocean tide voice.
crash into me. hurtle your stones
and sea shells
against my skin and make me sway.
hold on to me
with your straying grasp. collide
your runaway train into mine.
don't end the sentence of my existence
with a question mark.
sleep with me.
give me space-time-synesthesia
so i can see the clock encircle me,
the calender sheets.
so i can recall what you have to do last tuesday
and did tomorrow.
when i see you
i really see you
walk with me.
slip your twitching fingers into the spaces
between mine. we may not fit 'perfect'
but we fit 'all right.'
dance for me.
bend your body in
skeletal origami. take me by the hand
and fold me a paper crane.
peel me away, layer after layer
till i am too light to fly,
blow in between my folds and set me
your thunderclouds and make me
sway. sway, to the breeze of your
starry night meadow. silence your oceans
and still flinch at the deafening roar.
hush my hurricanes, hush.
Addictionyou are forever
and i am dying. you
are a book that starts
with no beginning. the star
that was never high enough
to fall. the dream never lucid enough
to hold. you are
the sticks and stones
that could've broken my bones
but took me home
you are forever
and i am dying. you
are the sky that
could've fallen. the page
that could've been turned.
the flame never bright enough
to be put out.
you are the broken watch
ticking, clicking, wishing
for the end of thinking
next to nothing.
you are forever
and i am dying. you
are the rope around my neck
the death of me.
with every breath in me
i call for you
wondering if you
the whole truth.
you are forever
and i am dying
to touch you
to love you
to wait for the end of time to be with you.
i can spend the rest of my life with you
but you can't spend the rest of yours with me.
i want to be the beginning of your book
the height of your star
the strength of your dreams.
i'm ripping open my hearts' bloody seams.
you are f
Can't phrase a sentence right.i have always wanted to write. writing, it’s, it’s one of those things that strips you of race, gender and culture and the only thing you’re judged on is the way that your words glide through the air, planting a kiss on every corner of the room when you say them. writing is one of those things that can be so moving when said that even the crevices in cracking plaster walls smile and whisper, “hey, that was beautiful.”
writing, it just kind of asks you to lend it your heart so it can paint words that are true and as soaked in dreams and hope as your blood is. it isn’t just words on a page, no, it is so much more. it’s lyrical origami, it’s poetry that makes diamonds shrivel in distaste as they wait to reach that state of perfection, it's a song that can be read in soundless space and still be heard with music in the background. it’s line after line of nothing but a collection of letters that don’t deserve to be called words sim
Just for a heartbeat.“i will never be the hero. don’t you understand that? i will never wear a cape and fly around town, saving people. i will never get a medal from the mayor of wherever. i will never be a hero. i can’t fly or shoot beams out of my eyes. i’m not even an 'average' hero that walks to work. i’m nobody. i’m a freak and everybody knows it. i’m a freak with fake broken pieces in me because i’m so pathetic i can’t even make my self up out of anything but lies. i’m a freak and no freak was ever a 'hero'. i’m a bloody lighthouse and i can’t just become a wave crashing at the shoreline. i just can't disappear. i’m not a hero. i’ll trip over my cape and kill someone. if that’s heroism then i’m on top of the world but, by definition, that doesn’t count. i’m a screw-up that will never do things right. i’m a screwed-up freak and that doesn't count... i don't coun
As long as anywhere was far enough.instead of a prison cell, he thought of it like a bird cage. it was his bird cage. we were imprisoned in three concrete walls that laughed at us and one lined with iron bars for the others to join in until we could bear no more mockery for the teenage sins we committed. while the rest of us screamed and cursed, crying out loud for the endless laughter to stop, he did nothing. he never did anything but twist metaphors and similes into ribbons he wrapped in every heartbeat and though the bitter hated it, i couldn’t help but find it his way of coping because he saw himself as a bird. a bird with the will to fly far away from the cage it was held captive in because we all saw this world as a chessboard or a game of scales but he wanted to believe there was something more, that there was something after the king had fallen to a pawn. he wanted to believe this world was something he could fly away from. that it was something that could wait for him and slow down when the time was
We were eternal.The body attacked itself. The mind forgot things. The eyes became sightless and limbs became immobile. The heart stopped beating. The blood stopped flowing. The fingers began sh-sh-shaking. The head became weightless. The hair weakened and fell. The bones began weakening and made us fall. The tongue refused to paint words in the air. The breath froze over. The heart stopped beating. The skin receded into a shrivel. The body bent over and hid in shame. The lungs stopped breathing. The heart stopped. The blood dried up. The bones stood strong but the flesh was lost. The corpse decayed. The life was gone.
But we were eternal. But we were forever. We were matter into energy. We could not be destroyed. We could not be created. We were there. We weren't everlasting. We weren't forever. But we were eternal. But we were eternal. We were supposed to be eternal.
On lockdown“Karah. My name is Karah. I am not Alice. I am Karah. I am Karah, Karah, Alice doesn’t exist.”
In those few seconds, Alice could let herself slip into a blanket of quiet. For some time, she wasn’t Alice anymore. She wasn’t weak or alone. She wasn’t hurt or broken. She wasn’t a thousand pieces of shattered glass lying on the floor trying to mend itself to form the perfect mirror it had once been. If only for a moment, she was whole. She wasn’t a runaway train. If only for a moment, she was on the right track, zooming at high speeds, safely, not colliding, not crashing. She was beautiful. Her scarred skin shed and now, she was beautiful. Her skin was painted in a hundred colors and her eyes shone as if star dust had found safe haven among her tears. She felt for the scar beneath her eyes and found nothing. She wasn’t Alice anymore. She was Karah. She was whole. She was complete. It had been so long since she had last felt so perfectly
Colors only i could seeas a child, my world was full of colors only i could see. my whole world feels like nothing but a collection of memories i can only remember, memories i can no longer go back to in hope of escape. sleeplessness made up about half of those memories. the night was a blanket my dragon friends wrapped me into before cradling me to sleep in their wings, the sound of their conjoined heartbeats thick and dreamy against my ears. it was the sound of immortal strength and a creation i had formed from nothing. it was mine. it was all mine. it was all mine to keep.
Ajax and Aya were my warriors of choice. they were “colored in Satan’s brightest flames” , they had once said. they were majestic, they were beautiful, they were everything. he, she and i rode into the night and we kissed the stars so lightly yet so deeply that there was no such thing as “farewell”, there was only, “until next time.” when Ajax and Aya were off, Peter took me to Neverland and i s
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-
could only hurt
anyone who got
she held what
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,
Be it my pride or dignity.
You may throw insults at me,
And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.
You may belittle me, as much as you want,
If only to make your meager life worth living.
But even if you do all that...
No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.
No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.
No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,
Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place...
"Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"What is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if you were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
it is dark, unfamiliar,
but your fingers seek out his,
and you know then
that you are at home
in his harmony
even if just
he's incendiary, sure.
a veritable (volatile)
molotov cocktail of
watch as he emerges,
ashen-limbed from a cocoon of you
to entwine with the threads
that hold you sane.
want nothing more than
to hiss and steam;
than to cool
in your stillness
redolent of broken-record risk-
taking chances until
there's nothing left
but scratches and
glitches in the wordwork
i mean woodwork,
i mean, skin.
but oh god, he loves you
just like this,
this is a choice:
you may destroy him,
extinguish his flames
and half-bury him in
the ashy remnants
of his own conflagration
but it's an impotent power
that is granted,
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,
but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your soul
and if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybars
in this old and rusted park
you can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to you
if i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,
tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love you
and i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,
because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my life
or what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.