I entered the bedroom and envisioned her asleep under the creme colored blanket - the swirled black and gray patterns mimicking the slopes and shapes of her hips and legs. I had lost count of how many times I marveled at her glow and thought: My God, she is beautiful. I thought of the gentle hue…
(via samisamachine)
Dinner of Roses
Again awake
How long was I out this time?
Hunger takes over me. My stomach chimes.
I remind myself of the fall in the lake……blackness, darkness, fade away.
The colors of the world have faded.
My meal today is blood red roses?
The scent finds my nose. My mind, invaded.
The flowers have died
The oasis dried
The love is dead
But it keeps getting in my head
Is this what it feels like?
I thought it hurt,
but really it’s numbing,
like feeling black and white.
But I thought we were sad,
when we felt this way.
But it’s like we’re “sick”
and everyone else is fine.
I try music to drown it out
but it’s so loud.
I hear the music, but listen to the voice.
Like I feel black, but I see lights.
To be honest, I don’t feel anything.
I can’t even feel me.
My mind wonders so badly,
all I can do is write.
She’ll smile when she thinks they’re looking,
but cries when she gets home.
They pick her last for everything,
but acts if it doesn’t bother her at all.
She feels terribly abandoned,
and hopelessly alone.
Her friends think that she’s happy,
but they will never know.
She’s on the verge of something,
gone by tomorrow’s hello.
I look
I sign
I need
Someone
Inside
To help
Me out
With what
I’m trying
I’m crying
I’m frying
In a pile of
Shit
I’m dying
I’m dying
I’m dying
her eyes died slowly,
the sparkle grounded to a watery blue—
every time she saw her brother’s scars
or took out a blade on herself.
her spirit died painfully
hope squeezed out of her by the school bully
sharpened, shiny words thrown at her by
the pageant queen.
she died peacefully
finally free of all Earth’s disaster and disgust.
i laid plastic flowers by her grave
so they wouldn’t ever wilt and fade like she did.
i knew their names,
Tulip and Marigold,
yet I never knew hers.
fight or flight.
that’s all I know
and it’s either my hands
around a neck, closing slowly
like her eyes or my feet on pavement
and my lungs flayed open to the night sky.you and I,
we’re a different breed
than the other myopic, single-celledparamecium
that shit where they eat and die slow.
just a pill or a pipe away from
Once, we got drunk
in a hotel hallway.
I’d lost the key
or you had,
and we pressed our backs to the walls
like the seams in the wallpaper
might let us slip past and
sleep inside.
You walked on the carpet
and it let you.
There was a bottle of something,
not much,
between us.
“Imagine…
He tells me
my kisses
taste like ink.
It is because
how I feel
can only be writ.
Take this note
and place it
next to your heart.
Let the words sink in
for they are truer
and purer
than whatever
my tongue
would impart.
