Friday, December 30, 2011

in my dreams they cut me from the forest to
watch us run while
naivety dripped down your leg
like a blood trail
and me, with hound's eyes.
drinking cold coffee through a straw you smiled and i almost thought i saw
me in you, as if i'd sunk through the layers;
sunk through the morning skin.
you kissed me three times and i knew
i would never get through your bed.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

i think of my great big elephant chains
and i don't want to be here anymore.

snowmen

the snowmen circle next to the garbage dumps
and all the phone calls you forgot to duck
and you asked me once if we're made of dust
but i guess now that don't matter much.


he pitched a tent in the dead of night and kissed
us all just one last time 

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

the 'i've known you deeper than anyone else' side glance while she's 
laughing with a friend too loudly and pretending i don't exist
over at taylor's house,
drinking wine out of plastic cups.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

and what do you do when you step back and realize you've become everything
you always wanted to be.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

vines traveled him, they snaked up
inside capilaries and left seeds in blood cells, he became
the trees.
the king of roots, the master of branches and everywhere he scraped his fingertips
bloomed flowers in their wake.


"i speak with the sadness of a forest,
i ache like mountains for the dawn.
all i want to do is grow beautiful things 
to make everyone happy."

Sunday, December 18, 2011

life is not a movie.

Friday, December 16, 2011

goodbye sun goodbye moon goodbye
frozen stiff grass in the first freeze goodbye
rain-sweet sinking mud washed up after a thunder storm goodbye
sounds of trains goodbye pen scratched notebooks goodbye
goodnight
goodbye

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

loneliness is the best muse.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

and in our long sleeves
i never imagined winter would actually
come. these months feel like
indian summers and time moves too
quickly for my liking.

Monday, December 12, 2011

a ghost rests on my shoulder to whisper
of the guilt, we sit at an
empty kitchen table and i dream of a faceless city.
no more pity eyes passing in the grocery store no more
hollow rochester air, every gulp sour with the
complete lack. i have rewritten every word of 
myself, an editor scowl and eraser rinds in the hallway closet
with bare feet. ever evolving i feel 
better than i was yesterday and i will escape i will abandon this
family gathered in the grave. nothing has ever existed 
before today.
i will be new.
a great geyser in my chest the
torrent of heart bursting forward
and skin to skin we 
spill into something deeper- 
scooped from the shallows and thrown into
the atlantic hidden in your fingertips.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

she molds empty lovers out of paper mache who
crumble by morning

Saturday, December 10, 2011

and they took all the colors with them when they left
scoured my soul and tore the
copper wire from the walls of my
heart.
a few bucks.

and i think i've been asleep for a 
very long time.
thank you darling
for turning on the lights.

Friday, December 9, 2011

lets do dirty things together.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

and when my heart starts racing;
i don't care where it will end up.
you remind me of
fresh linen and warm toes tucked under the covers you
remind me of
green grass and midnight cicadas.
and when you smile i get 
fireflies in my mouth
and it's nice to know
that still happens
that single moment when our
legs touch, sitting next to each other like strangers 
and suddenly, out of nowhere
i know you better than my own heart.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

and all alone you
stranded yourself you
tore the phone from the wall and then 
you cried all night over 
having no one to call.
fuck
it.

i'm going to feed the fires with my journals and stay warm by burning
book-light. i'm going to rip it all away and
i'm going to wake up tomorrow
and i'm not going to remember anything that's ever happened
before today.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

is it selfish to wish that perhaps
a hundred miles out my sight 
you're just waiting
for me to come along.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

slight buckle of the knees and a 
straining of the cogs in 
your mind i close my eyes and 
fall into foreign lips for the first time and


has there been earth before this moment? 
has history ever recorded such a 
glory in it's compass pages?
the sun, in shame, hides behind night clouds and 
i guess what i'm trying to say is that the world is a better place
when you're around.

apply within

and the summer skin leaves us to winter-
rubbed raw with faded freckles.
i think you're quite lovely
either way. 


[your heart on a spring, collected and cocked-
a bear trap of defense mechanisms and the rest of your
lovers with chewed off limbs crawling away 
but hey, 
your iron jaws look rather lonely and i think i might like
to stay.]
i've got daddy issues with a crucifix