Tag: spilled emotions

there is something holy
in the lines by 
your eyes. 
heaven exists in between
your front teeth and the way
your lips become
mine. 
there is no room for
perfection
while the sun still shines
and the moon glows–  
we remain within  
light; 
the devil does
not exist here.

heavenly details // a.s.m

you find the ingredients 
to lose yourself 
in the kitchen cabinets. 
in twelve hours with coconut oil, 
a chopstick and a fork, 
you unkink your hair and
lose a piece of yourself in 
the air that blows between the doorways
of the only home you’ve ever known. 

you’re down a limb, and you can 
feel its phantom 
brushing up against your body, 
trapped
within these same walls. 

you shut the door quickly
when you leave so
that it cannot escape. 
it has to stay inside. 
you want to visit sometime
soon.

phantom limb // a.s.m

mother, don’t you know? 
the boy with the golden 
irises doesn’t smile anymore. 
he’s packed, and there’s something 
heavy in the bags he carries
underneath those eyes.
there’s no such thing as darkness
in the city of angels.
there’s no fear in death when 
you welcome it. 
perhaps the sun will thaw
him, perhaps the cold has
nothing to do with why he’s 
so numb.

you can’t run away from what’s within // a.s.m

i am escaping
into the night much like
the air from her mouth evaporates
into the wind as she says
goodbye.

light no longer
reflects off of me:
i am absorbing so much
darkness,
she cannot find me
anymore.

not being able to see
me means i’m already gone.
the only thing
she wraps her arms around anymore
is the darkness, and it is too cold,
i make her
shiver.

goosebumps // a.s.m

you say the whole
world looks a little
crooked.
my head is on
the wooden floor,
staring at the bowed leg of
a chair, and i guess
it is a little 
twisted. 

i had a dream last night.
we were all vampires, living
in my apartment back at
school. when i woke up
everything was the same except
mom and dad didn’t want to
suck my blood.

i guess the earth is a little
bit crooked, tilting
at twenty three point five
degrees on its axis.

i’ve been dreaming about
death a lot recently. it’s funny
because when i’m asleep i am always
the one being killed, but
i know that what
we’re trying
to kill does not have its own heartbeat,
but rather has taken
over yours.

sissy said something
the other day that made me want to cry:
that the life has drained from your
eyes. sometimes
it’s hard to look at the beautiful gold
they have become.
i hate that color.
i know what it means.

i guess you’re
right.
the world is pretty warped.
i think you can see it better than i.
is it scary? is the world
a little straighter when
your eyes are golden
like that? does it look
a little brighter?

i’m sorry all my poems are about heroin these days // a.s.m

i can feel
the drums in my pulse. 
i miss the warmth
of the sun while it rains,
and the smell of
Armani cologne and sweat.
the way we’d all slide in
the back of the car with
no seat belts,
the leather sticking
to the backs of my thighs. the heat.
pulling mulberries off of
the trees in the yard and making
tracks on the tile
when we’d come in for dinner.
our four beds pushed together.
whispering in darkness.
throwing cheese
to the street dogs and cats.
being free to be 
a child. getting lost. wandering
too far.

հայաստան: Armenia // a.s.m

i shouldn’t have let him
close the door.
everyone knows nothing
good happens to young girls
behind closed doors
and yet i wasn’t thinking
about freedom when i heard
the lock click. i was all dolled up
for the camera.

i heard your voice in my head,
saying you wouldn’t let
him touch me.
but the door closed and
you couldn’t see
where his hands were sliding.
i was
just another day at work.
just another photoshoot.
just another.

i wonder if
he knows my body
has become a shrine to
the emptiness
he thrust within me.
i wonder if he cares
that i’ve flinched under
every pair of hands
since.

i wonder if he remembers
my name.

i wonder if he remembers // a.s.m

‘go as high as you can possibly take me.’
you sold me a piece of paper and
told me it would make me 
fly. 
now i’m crashing into walls, 
you’re terrorizing my mind.
this shit is going up in smoke, 
my mind before my heart. 
you once said you’d rather die
than watch me burn, but
i am almost all ashes
and your heart’s still beating 
on rhythm. when did you realize
you had told us both a lie? 
you said you wouldn’t let me burn. 
how long have you been
playing with fire?

playing with fire // a.s.m

you’d heard the phrase “to love is to suffer” so you weren’t exactly surprised when the first time you saw his eyes you had stained the sheets red. but you had been so ready to cradle him in your arms and feel his beating heart that you ignored it. 

twenty two years later you’re looking through his desk drawers while he’s out; not quite sure what you’re looking for, but knowing there must be a reason his eyes have looked so golden lately. there must be a reason he’s out so damn much.

when you hear the news, all you can think of is his heart, once so small and fragile. that heart that used to beat within your own body is now beating arrhythmically to the sound of train tracks on his arms. and you remember ‘to love is to suffer,’ yet you had never thought it would consume you so much. 

you never knew that loving him would mean he would suffer, too. that often you’d hug him so hard, you’d leave a bruise. or that you’d love him so much, sometimes you’d try to save him from being himself.

to love is to suffer (Heroin, Pt. III) // a.s.m