"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
Words Are Powerful ThingsYou’re so angry
You let words swarm up inside.
Screaming to get out.
They yell and shout.
They sit there,
Turning into horrid things that should never be even whispered,
In the softest tone.
You get so angry
Cause you’re so afraid.
Like so many other people
You let your fear burst into rage.
The monstrous words inside of you
Refuse to remain in their cages.
You let those words escape your lips,
All of the sudden you feel like your words have killed someone.
As you see their face.
Words are suddenly bullets.
They’ve pierced your victim’s heart.
Fragments of a once pretty, friendship scatter on the floor.
The pieces so broken, I doubt you could find all of the shards to make it whole again.
There’s a slamming of a door.
Whether that be real,
Or just a metaphor.
To say you’ve been locked out,
From this once dear friend of yours.
I hope one day.
You’ll find better words
To form a key.
So you can find your way back to them.
I am LostMy thoughts are orcas
Trapped in bathtubs.
Within microcosms -
Stuck, glued tight,
Melting like Dali's clock,
In a cock fight
With my conscience.
Sometimes I forget
All that regret
Burning through -
A pain so forever
That I hardly ever
Feel it anymore.
A cut so deep and quick
That it stops -
Time is static -
Before it bleeds.
Fluttering in the wind.
So much to see.
My heart is vacant,
My lungs made of lead
And both are my enemies
Because I'd rather be dead.
But no I wouldn't.
I'm fake, made of a paper -
A corporate rock whore -
And I don't know
What I stand for.
But maybe I don't have to
Stand for anything -
A word without a definition
Still leaves a mark
On pure paper.
A meaningless spark
Can still become a fire.
A tickle of love
Can still become desire.
untitledthere are a thousand
unwritten love letters in your eyes
now I keep thinking about
and the color green
all I know is that
my skull's been
warriors traversing well worn paths
boots leaving tracks across
chests and necks
and it's comfortable
it's not like drowning
more like slowly lowering
into hot bathwater
and we are just skin and cosmos
bodies and words
our tongues landlocked
we are adrift in
our own little sea
we've plucked our wings
and now we can't fly
tell me the truth
that the sky's overrated
I'd rather be with you
on the ground
or buried beneath it
skeletons entwined truthfully
I've always thought heaven was
a pretty sort of lie
but I've read a book or two
or people's idea of it
and I disagree with myself
popping thought balloons
on the idea that heaven
is in the way your eyes
fold origami swans when you smile
that shitty laugh
that hollow above your heart
like your chest's caving i
Happy Songs on the RadioI don't write about happy things.
I don't listen to songs about romance.
I can't feel what the artist is singing so passionately about.
The longing to know what it's like makes me want to scream and shout.
The way people write and lace words together,
About how happy and perfect they see the world.
Has always been a stranger to me.
I wish I could see,
The way you did.
I really do.
I wish I could feel the same way as you.
To be able to hear the lyrics,
'I love you'
And picture someone to match those three words.
I wish I could hear these songs,
About how everything is perfect.
Absolutely nothing is wrong.
But I can't.
I hear those songs and I feel empty.
Because I can't feel what they're saying.
And I keep listening,
But I am just wasting my time
Trying but failing to relate.
When I hear the songs on the radio.
They make me squirm in my seat.
I feel happy but sad.
Something so bitter sweet.
Because part of me feels so happy for the person.
Who sings so happily.
But another, darker half.
When the Sun RisesI miss the way you used to be.
I miss the way you'd smile at me.
How the joy would make the corners of your eyes crinkle.
You'd laugh softly.
Shaking your head,
I miss that.
How real it sounded.
I listened to you now,
And that old little light melody of laughter is no where to be found.
You still laugh
But your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.
I don't think I've ever met someone with such sad,
As you look upon yourself
And you can't help but despise what you see.
You used to walk,
With your head held high.
You don't anymore
You keep them glued to the floor.
Scared to acknowledge your train wreck of a life
That lays before you.
I still think you're beautiful though.
Even if you're growing faint
Like a sunset,
Falling into the darkness of the night.
With each slowly fading ray of light.
You're still perfect, and make people stop and stare in awe.
But just like the sun sets.
And you get pulled under into the dark of the night.
When all of your light is gone
remember,when i was your lioness and
we ruled the world with
scattered light and
after all this time, i
still stay up late thinking of you,
pinching myself awake to keep the image of you in my head
until i hear you sing me to sleep.
we all have our demons, i was always yours.
waking up with bruises on my arms in an empty bed,
the devil inside of me whispers that it's not over yet, and
he pumps turbulence from my carved open heart into my saltwater blood
i feel every half-healed scar split op
en to bleed yet again.
wanting you is wanting the safety of the stars
when i'm already in free fall (into the grave).
my siren, i was born to die but you loved me into a phoenix.