unfilteredtake a drink,and forget for a moment that you aren't breathing.you comb starlight;these sunset broken tea leavesbleed into the sky,filling, filling, fillingin the cracks where the darkness is unfilteredlike black coffee,too strong for your heart to take, tonight.take another drink,bleed another verse and remember what your shelvesare filled with, remember all those lettersthat they wrote to you, postcards from the placesthat in their sandpaper callousnessyou have never been(and bleed again,just another nicked arteryhemorrhaging into facsimilegoblets -drinkagainand tell me -can you taste it yet?)
thingsi hope you realizethe light you saw in my eyeswas nothing but your own reflection
history remembers.i.history repeats itself.i realize this the fourth time i find myself on a couchwith the head of a boy i don’t knowbetween my stiff, nonresponding legs.i realize this on the third sip of alcohol. on the fourth.the fifth. the eleventh. the first time i black out. the eighth.history repeats itselfand i am napoleon marching across russiaand i only pretend the water is poisoned.i only pretend the earth is burned to ground.i pretend that destruction is inevitableand that help is not an option.--ii.we got close, him and i.sometimes you get so close to a personyou can feel their lips stiffenwhen you try to kiss them.sometimes you get close to a person,under them, between damp sheets.sometimes,they never stop believingthat you are beneath them.--iii.“help me,” he says. i say okay.he tells me to sleep with him laterso i say the wrong name in bed,but so does he;he means it,i say it because it’s the only way i can
based on a true storyLove is a morning in July. Warm, free, and full of promise. Maybe I say that because I always fall in love in July. Maybe I've just convinced myself it's like that.I check my hand. Still nothing. No matter how hard I try, it won't come back. The ink was permanent. It's the skin that isn't.It kills me to think that I have been losing pieces of you for the past six years. Your hand and mine, they almost haven't touched, and then what will I have? Seven hundred photographs of you and I - you like a Cadillac, smile painted by Da Vinci, me a bewildered sparrow, just trying to hang on, to make you think I matter.I close my eyes.I remember crossing a street in Paris. Earbuds - you got one, I got one. (I keep telling myself: stay close. She is pretty but you are sharing something.) But we didn't hold hands. We both had angels in our heads, and in our lips, at least before we drank the wine.Stop, stop, stop - Germany tells me that I don't take my chances, Con
Hard Won SunshineOn a good day,I've got sunshine in my veins.A backlit smile,And a spring in my step.And people don’t thinkI’ve ever known…Faces in the night,Looking for me.Shadows on my face,From lack of sleep.People rarely think…Of the ash in your bones,The tar clogging up your thoughts,And blocking out the light.But what people think…About how your skinFeels tight when you smile…Doesn’t matter.What matters is…It never stops.It never gets easier.Bad things will happen.But if you can wait it out,Endure,Survive,Last just a bit longer than you think you can.You will get stronger.And things will get better.It might seem impossible,But whatever you do,Don’t give up.Because I’ve been there,Lost in the darkness.So far down I thought I’d never get out.I know how hard it is to keep fighting.But I also know…That you can do it.Believe in yourself,You are greater than you know.