Ask Me To Write a PoemAsk me to write a poemabout kissing witches in my sleep.Ask me to write a poemabout the bump on my middle fingerfrom forcing pen to paper.Ask me to write a poemabout the discolored bruises on my kneesthe poetry written in ink upon my fleshthe love in a foreign tongue on my wrist.Ask me to write a poemabout Boyfriend,my possessive Siamese,about my rose thorn teeth,and the battle scars I wear like trophies.Ask me to write a poemabout how my own words make me sick,about how I swear I'll die by the pen.Ask me to write a poemabout boys and peachesand how I wish they tasted just as sweet,about how I sanded away layer, after layerafter layerjust to see if I really bleed ink.Ask me to write a poem.
She has the moon in her eyes.But, this body is a black hole,a hollowed out womb-and these palms are sandpaperthin and bleeding a silent stigmata."Not yet ripe to fall from her bed,too young to understand her own limbs-"She folds back July's origami skin,wishing for the warmth of winters kiss.She is a raven heart, thumping wildlyagainst the whispers of vintage lips.Her bed is empty,but the sheets are red.
Missing BonesWe spent our nights star gazingon the top of that local bar on 5th street.You said you loved me by night,that no star or moon in any given universecould compare to me; that we were lost warriorssearching for a home within the roots of one another.I believed myself a wandering ghost among the living,searching for missing bones and the warmth of another's grave.You shook me then,kissing me where it hurt most-just to test a theory.You whispered,"Like dead birds,you are not faceless;your rib cage has a meaning."And I believed I loved you thenunderneath the moon and starstipsy on your smile and your wordsand your warmth.Your hands must be the thieveswho stole these thin bones of mine-because, I never wanted you more.
Lonely Gods"I wish my body to be a staircaseto heaven." She said, "A conduitof lonely Gods."Swayingpendulum hips, she, shewas made of stardust.- Scars sleepingabove a city of sweet bones, stirringlike sun-stricken scorpions duringhollow painkiller nights,mistaking her redred burnsfor Apollos kisses."Sadly, this body has whispered awaythe last of my secrets."
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,devoured blasphemy-hallowed out, & spit back up,( you are afraid. )Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselvesgrapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.( spread your legs. )Red-inked and trembling,prosetry masked as screamsknots into her anatomy.
N o v ai.This distance between usis devouring my lungs.I'm left here gasping,trying to suture back togetherall the broken nights-the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.ii.I'm tracing maps on my limbs,and I'm painting black holes on my palms,pressing them into lettersleft on my nightstanduntouched and unread.iii.I keep telling myselfnone of this is about you.But I'm reaching for empty galaxiesas I try to remember what it felt liketo be one of a binary star.iv.Light-years away, and I'm here-just another nova on your ceiling,searching this vast universe for you.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,hold your secrets between myribcage-embrace & just breathe.
NecromancyShe replaces her wristswith the sharp thornsof roses and slurreddon't-touch-me's-as she speaksin an old tonguedlanguage that whispersdecipherme.-She collects starson her knuckles,& her dust eyesare sad moon nebulasstarved for love.-But, the kissesshe sinks into the curveof her lover's ribcageby night, warm thatsupernova heart.
Dragons BloodYou are an art journal,all scraps of paper and profound quotesof those you say "I'll fucking know one day",because you love to shock mewith even more profound profanitiesand those watercolor fingersyou use to shut me up.Gently. Always gently.You leave me moon-eyed;Dragons Blood still lingeringin the wake of yourheartbeats against mine.
RelapseIt’s like countingSaturn’s rings,hash marksalong your limbs -remembering a timewhen‘just one more’made you feel better.- & you’re sitting therewondering whyDraco, stuck in limboalways looks like he’sfalling.-dp
You do not whore around,You spend your nightsreachingfor Apollo’s robes.You’re as hotas New Orleansin mid-July, andas fierceas her gumbo.But, he is light-yearsaway and your fingersache with tiredinsecurity.-a disaster inyour ownmoon skin.Even if it fucking hurts,you can still tastehis heat on your tongue.Gods be damned,you’re a butterfly-( even if mountedto a bed. )One day,you will find yourselfand fly away.
Ask Me To Write a PoemAsk me to write a poemabout the ball shaped bone in my middle finger.Ask me to write a poemabout the heavy pen with the dark inkthat has helped me form the wordsto free the stories in my mind.Ask me to write a poemabout the holes in the walls of my bedroom,about the broken window with the birds nest,or about my vandalized dresser that hardly opens from years of abuse.Ask me to write a poemabout the scars on my face,from falling and being "Harry Potter"to the hole Scooby put in my lip.Ask me to write a poem aboutFozzy, Pikachu, Yoshi, Snickers, Spike, Jingle Bombs, Greg, Sunshine and Snowflake.Those who were more than just petsand will forever be apart of me.Ask me to write a poemabout the cousins I don't remember,about how the fire hid the ugly truthand crushed my family.Ask me to write a poemabout all that has beaten me downand all that has help bring me back to my feet.Ask me to write a poem.
give me a reason to stayI need more from youthan two lips parted;hungry hands scrabblingat my sides.I need your limbstwined around myhopes and dreams -I need your fingersclutching for my soul.
261 Prompts1. Violinist.2. Insomniac.3. Paper aeroplane.4. Dandelion seed.5. Feather.6. She sings.7. Dragonfly toes.8. A stolen ring.9. Broken wristwatch.10. Missing tooth.11. Horoscope.12. Fairytale gone wrong.13. Cliché.14. Ribbon.15. Renaissance.16. Staccato.17. Cadence.18. Asphyxiate.19. Lucky rabbit's foot.20. Freckles.21. 3:28am.22. Kaleidoscope.23. Icarus.24. Paper birds.25. Hallucination.26. Puppet show.27. Triskaidekaphobia. (Fear of the number thirteen.)28. Hourglass.29. Letters to the moon.30. Jupiter.31. Ballet shoes.32. Spider.33. Silhouette.34. Breathless.35. Tachycardia. (An unusually fast heartbeat.)36. Inkspot.37. Squirrel.38. Strobe light.39. Astronomer.40. Fake quirks.41. Contact lenses.42. Siren. (Either the mythological creature, or the object.)43. Comet in a bottle.44. Yin-yang.45. Samsara.46. Tarot card.47. Goldfish.48. Mirage.49. Filigree.50. Paprika.51. Everyone was dancing, but me.52. Nameless.53. Debauchery.54. P
Growing UpCan't remember my childhood bedroom anymore.
Joey had a smoke and burned the moon downOne night on a long road trip to NebraskaThe skies opened up and bled onto my pupilsAnd the taste of gin burned my throatAs my star strewn spine strained againstThe static of the radio blasting from your car stereoWe chased godOnly to find kerosene angelsAnd glow flies hanging from tree tops
ropehang me from the moon,i want to be beautiful
all-inclusivetight like apple-skinssunrise stretches over hillsand valleys alike.
i'd call it love, if it wasn't suffocating.every time it rains,i think of you.because that's all there is--the wind,the waterand a quick breath of airbefore we all go under.every time it rains,i swear i'm drowning.
on an envelopewhy do my d's and l's look like yours when i write your name?it's just been a little carousel,spinning in pirouettes,turrets,neverending,in my mind all day.all i know is i'm glad i don't love you.i don't know why you aren't relationship material-in all honesty, you are.i don't know why you treat me like your girlfriend-kissing my forehead,holding me gently,touching me sweetly,asking to see me,sixty miles out of the wayin a city i can fall in love,with no promise of sex-all i know is i'm glad i don't love you,& i hope it stays.