Sunday, September 16, 2012

i'm disappointed in you

the type of evening when
needing to be
wicked drunk
does not even begin
to cover it

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


bleed it out -
the dregs of your mind,
the thoughts you can't leave
the incessant siren scream of
the clutching impulse -
anything, nothing, give me
something to drown myself in
the thoughts that spin
and clutch your mouth

duck, the next hit's coming
and you have no time
to move - quick -
strike them first
before they can get to you

Friday, April 27, 2012


she reads me
like a book through
a pane of bubbly glass -
the words blur, but
she gets the gist of
the plot
which arcs over our lives
oblivious, uncaring
of the fallout, the
pieces it will leave

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


how much i miss
my solitude -
the daily walk up
to the writer's room, the
silence full of pen scratchings

through the rain i'd run, book
tucked under arm,
hood pulled
low over my eyes.
the alone-ache
blending into something i
could live with - a painful
pins and needles

Monday, March 19, 2012


you left me gasping, body
[clit] still throbbing
aching for completion
as you sank into slumber

and i used my tears to water the bed
because it was the one thing
i'd wanted, in a day filled
with a line of spectacularly
shitty things -
i gave up
left my body huddled, alone
drifting in blankets
that were not warmed
by your sleeping heat -
you could have
not been there at all

Sunday, March 18, 2012


what will we remember, when
these years are through? a
scent of dry grass, the unbearable
heat of a scorching sun -

Saturday, March 17, 2012


my dull, bleeding mouth
chewed in indecision,
the moments
when i bite back
words - the
things i do not say
in my mouth

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

a household obscured

languid evening
smoke curling around
the air, hugging
the walls & ceiling
smoke drowning it all -
the noise of tv, the dishwasher's
dull hum
is lost in haze
[a household obscured]

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


i wish it would rain
wash away
all my anger -
the resentment i hold close,
the lack of brightness
to my days.
if i am dark, the sky, also
should join the night.
the wet grass, water streaming
from my car as i accelerate, &
the people slouch along, as if
the clouds press them more firmly
to the earth.
i straighten my shoulders, take my place
in my environment.
let the rain fall,
let this all wash away.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

cloud blood

someone (who?)
i don't remember
called it cloud blood and it's true
today, after last night's hail
tapping me to sleep, brittle
against the windows.
they predicted tornadoes
running through the channel
of the city. none came -
my disappointment, instead.
i settle in
for another week in
corporate hell, use
my illicit nail polish
to stain my fingers an
unobtrusive shade, armor
against the constant application
of soap and bleach water.
the chemicals leach into my skin.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

the shame

i do not
miss you
i wanted to

Monday, February 20, 2012


fits & starts
the ricochet forward, and
backwards, languidly
time lacking
a center to cement to.
the flying - faster,
rushing ache of it -
and the dull backwash
of hours moving sludgelike
in the center.
the years so fast,
this month will never end.
this week can't go by soon enough.
only four hours
before i can go. oh god. four
hours - an eternity -

Sunday, February 12, 2012

[even if i hardly use them]

i've been stockpiling
razors again
it always helps to calm
my mind

Friday, February 10, 2012


the scars keep coming
& the only thing that worries me
is that others might
see these marks i paint
into my flesh
and believe
i'm too crazy to be competent -
i've never worried
about opinions,
but it has occurred to me
that my arms might
paint a picture of a person
far more unstable than
i am today - i don't want
people to see a mental case
i want my arms to testify
to my great will
to survive

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

full time

the concrete floor
presses ache into my spine
pacing the same spot
for hours, giving others
my time
downing the free coffee
to stay awake.
snatched hours of sleep -
never enough to wake in anything
but a panic - the
rushing, rising sun sharp
against my windshield.
they say to take my
piercings out -
of course
i don't comply.
i do not blend here,
the tired girl
rubbing her eyes,
wiping the lack
of sleep on her pants.
latte, mocha,
americano, half-caf -
rinse & repeat -
the code of coffee.

Friday, January 13, 2012


i think there will be
no part of this life
that will not stain me,
leave me scarred.
my wrists ache in the
morning, now -
another reminder that the
invincibility of youth
inevitably wanes.
i live in the in-between,
the light and dark,
the gloaming
which makes me blurry, indistinct.