Not you, but meNot you, but meI've crossed every stone,A trail through the bay to your heart.Tossed among sunken ships,Just a wreck in your deepest harbor.You're the coral I cut my knee onAnd the salt in its wound.I swam over you at low tide,Should have known not to.Torn at the seam,No comfort in the folds.Just an old towel hanging outOn the porch to dry.I'm a stagnant bay,sand trapped under my tongue.No words to undo.You drew a line as youwalked away from me.Further and further,A distant island hidden by the clouds.
homeMy heart is tetheredbetween wrought ironand quick tempersIn the house, a man was waiting:silver skin, sharp chineating the remains with his corbeau mouthMy cloaked heart slips through the gate,and past March, April, Junemy palms are stained with the smell of rust,dust and rotting wood under my tongue,unopened mail behind each ribWhat's heavy will hurt.I took a small boat awayHalf way thereI lost my oars(abandoned)Flung and tossed like a childinto the channel"Are you afraid of what's below?"you're just froth below the horizon.you're just a speck in timeThe dark whale should swallow me whole,but instead I lay my head in the day's end,like resting on warm thighsMy mother's own.
An owlWhen I was youngerWe moved into the new housemy father built.In the evening an owl flew in.With heavy wingsit threatened us,cutting through the darkwith hardly any room for flight.My sister and Iheld our breathand played dead until myfather came home.When he saw us he laughedwhile we lay stilland then opened all the windowsto let it fly out.
deservethe poisoned branch,I pulled myself up onto see another.now an ant nest in my heartyou stepped in andleft distraught.
By myselfWhen I'm aloneI steal pieces of night.Without another to share,I eat by myself.The meat is spoilt.Only acid in my throat when I wake.
without a goodbyethis is the last time.just empty space and time passingbetween us.I am at the other end of the room,and you have opened all the windowsand doors to let yourself out.
the netI'm rot.Was sliced at the gill,thrown near the rocksunder sun and flies.Flesh exposed, a little girl with no t shirt on.Dead amongst scavengers.lost my armor all scattered likeand soaked into the stone.Swam into the net.Thought it would get me there fast.
KnivesknivesMy life through the glass,a million pieces scattered (splinters in my thumbs)A spectrum (colours of fear)Forced through me like knives.Here, smoke and doubt intersects false light.A journey queued. Where I had begun.This time aloneWhat am I fighting for?
:apart:Home again today.Where there is no relief.Not to slowly kiss.Once here was my love to fall into,now my days are just steep.Tonight I sleep alone.and time did not settle me.
-sexuals don't-Heterosexuals don't blink.(Because they want to see the world,But they are blind by their ownBlinding light and it doesn'tMatter.)Homosexuals don't swear.(Because, as said by others, their GodRefused them and abused them,So who can they swear toNow?)Bisexuals don't dance.(Because no matter what song plays,They can't hear it as they haveAlready filled their ears withCotton.)Polysexuals don't feel.(Because what is there to feelWhen every single emotionIs against you in everyWay?)Pansexuals don't breathe.(Because the air is thick with smokeFrom fires of oppression and ofDepression and so theyChoke.)Demisexuals don't pray.(Because why pray to someone whoHas ignored you countless timesWhen you wish these peopleAway?)Asexuals don't smile.(Because what is there to smileAbout when the whole world isReady to throw you to theWolves?)
There Is No Cheap Sex!You just don't pay directlyor even worse you don't pay with money.There is free sex!but it's hard to find it.
Final problemAfter a problemComes anotherWe solve manyBut not all of themBecause somedayWe all find that oneWe can never solve
contrapapalcloven holy mosesand wicker risking judas wristsall of us convulsingin scripture fitsand jesus spitbut none of uschosen to seeblind in a paradiseof evidenceswearing our eyes outand perilously erringtowards careless marysand arrogant seasthat won't splitno matter how many deitieswe deceivewe are godsdamned to worshipand grieve
naturally, there's no way homewildfire,tell me facts about the mood,how gods who receive homage are cruel,how whiskey and poetry shouldn't mix(it's working for me-it's worked for me-it's damnable and i know it.)you write your words in soot,the boom in your heart leftwhen fireworks explode andyou don't know what to doyou don't know what to doyou don't s t o pdon't stop.sometimes, i'm a fire coursing across the coast,a storm untempered. today, it's bloody knucklesand telling you that lighting things on firewon't make them beautiful, only burnt outand broken but that's you're point-your lips don't make a soundbut your actions echo acrossgrounds you've yet to travel,unforgiving winds of changemaybe god is in the strangerswe begin to care about, in betweencrushing hope and party dreamsand i do i do i do (not)know where to stop and where to gobecause red means go go goand green is uncharted landwe must never cross for partof me is made of glassand you are nothing nothing nothingbut sharp
085- She doesn't want to fight you.She's an animal who's forgotten about her teeth and clawsat a time when she needs them the most.
wolfYou resemblesomeone I once knew.A wolf in the darkpressed against my window again.