Tag: spilt ink

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

a nuclear bomb has just gone off
in the living room. 
the ground bubbles
under pressure, vibrations rising
like heat and the Christmas
tree trembles, 
golden orbs shimmying and
dangling precariously off
evergreen cliffs. 

a mushroom cloud is spreading throughout
every single room in the house. 
i stay put but keep my head down.

my heart doesn’t palpitate when
the walls start to quiver.
with a smile, i close my eyes and
enjoy the way it feels
as though the house is rocking
me to sleep. 

there will be plenty of time
to clean up the mess later.

good vibrations: Christmas morning // 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

once you learn that the sting of rejection does not wound nearly as badly as the torment of regret, and that fear itself is more intimidating than what you are actually afraid of, you are invincible.

you hurt me a little but i am invincible now // a.s.m

i’m really goddamn fed up
of trying and failing to
wear my heart on my sleeve.
i no longer want to live
in fear of keeping it exposed
where it can get
bumped and bruised.
i want to tear it off
and
force it down your throat.
i want you
to taste the regret in my
blood and finally know
how long its been marinating.

i want to tell you how i feel // a.s.m

mother, the sea
is calling out for me;
don’t you hear it through
the windows? and i
want nothing more
than to see it’s every shore
i want to be
under every inch
of the sky, wherever it
ends.
i want to walk
on every stone,
every road,
every blade
of grass. but
there are more grains
of sand in this world
than there are seconds
in my life and i am
already running out of time.

wanderlust consumes me // 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