I. EVACUATION
run
without thinking.
let your feet slap
the pavement. you need
to get out of here before
they burn you alive.
i know it hurts. sometimes
you have to
save yourself first.II. VIRGINITY
no footprints in the snow.
you’ve not yet learned to
not let everyone in.III. BLESSED CHILD
you’ve been vandalized
you throw your body
off of cliffs
so you can know how
it feels to fly.
you’re branded and scarred,
and you only know
how to smile.
the best time to write is when
i’m sorry or sleepy because
the words flow unapologetically–
they do not try so hard to sound good.there is a drum in the front of my brain,
and I don’t know if it’s
because of the rain or the way
the dentist drilled my gums today.it is empty in the house, but too loud
with my mother’s anxieties,
and the air is heavy with tears
that are shed once the lights go out–
shed like room for growth and
thicker walls–
shed like hair, like skin,
to make room for
something new and healthy and strong.what do we shed with our tears?
our weakness? our pain?
WEARY TRAVELER FINDS REST
WITHIN THE HEART OF A CHILD:
we are
a miracle the world chortled
at thinking existed, a dream
within a dream.
too far beyond
the imagination, a
hallucination of the heavens.
there is love for you
oozing from betwixt these ribs;
heart so small, love so big.
suffocation comes in rainbows
laced with love
crushed between kisses
that draw blood-
red beauty
some of us can only choke
on the breath
of flowers.
follow me to the end
of the world.
i want to hear ‘i love you’
echoing off a canyon’s edge;
your laughter, never ending
in the darkness.
your hand in mine,
double helixes of fingers
two plants intertwined,
seeking the same sun.
could you feel it beginning
to fall apart
when you kissed her lips
under the floral arch?
it happened so soon,
he became the glue that bound
you together.
you’d count his fingers and
toes, so delicate and small.
you never would’ve guessed they’d
make those holes in the dry-wall.you never imagined you’d be here
again; broken glass on the kitchen
floor, a policeman
knocking at the door.there’s a silent melancholy
song that pours from
your lips,
like the whiskey you nurse
as they take him away with
his hands behind his back.
Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found home
within your eyes.
Chase stars with me,
catch butterflies
between our palms and
whisper wishes on their wings
before we release them
to the skies.Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found safety
in your heart:
a delicate collage
of glass and shards
of mirror where I
find pieces of myself; I know
together we have something
beautiful.
get so high that
you feel numb,
slit your wrists while in
the tub. warm water glides
over the edge of your
porcelain ship. blood flows
through caulk river
channels between
the tile. you will haunt the
seals between the
floor forever.
i will celebrate the fact
that my life has been carved
into my skin for everyone
to read.i am no longer ashamed of
the way i laugh or
the size of my heart– like
the bread we break,
take a piece
to keep in your pocket.
it will not grow stale,
i promise.sometimes i feel i have enough
to feed the world.this universe is a pitcher
i cannot fill, though i pour
myself into it completely
inside
out.i devour authenticity
and the freedom of
opening my mouth and
letting whatever is inside
fall to the ground.
Silenticel 