Soft Fool

I'm not a fool.

I know your moves,

I just never dared to speak

the truth,

words in solid form

can do great harm.

I could see all the signs

but I simply closed my eyes

to the world.

And pulled the trigger.

I pulled you close.

I dug my own grave.

Please don't dance on it.

The soil is too fresh,

too soft.

 

 

History

A pencil in her hair

just like her father

habits burned in,

learnt, yearned.

there's a grandfather clock

in my body

in the shaded corner

just under my heart.

A razor blade pendulum

A delicate teeter totter

move her gently for

she breaks like her mother.

She's walking a fine line

history repeated

her chaos is contagious

Set her down, down, down.

She's alone.

Always alone.

it's in her bones.
It feels like home
And home is sweet.

written December 11th 2014

Cruel Joke

Nobody really knows me.

I'm not just a mother

or a watered down whore.

I have spaces and voids.

I hear voices.

I crave noise.

Is it

so wrong

to want

to hear

you fall

into me,

deep into this?

 

written November 22nd 2014

Dedicated Monster

Pick yourself up off the floor and

Let's watch a movie.

People can be such monsters.

The world could at least provide

the snacks

but nothing is sacred anymore.

Days melt together.

Fuse like jello in a mold.

Hurt me like you mean it

and I will take it gently.

I will wade into your depths

with grace.

I will eat your popcorn,

and I will be your film.

A dedicated monster

in a dark, electric storm.

 

written September 9th 2014.

Truth

I don't know you well.

the surface was scratched.

I can't say I love you,

but I care.

I was seeking a ship wreck.

You were looking to be saved.

A comfortable place.

A doorway to rest your boots.

And I gave what I could,

it's a familiar role.

My fear may have soured me

but my hands only held the truth.

And my lips,

only craved yours.

 

written November 13th 2014

exaggerated rhythms

I know better than to follow

barking dogs.

But I can get away with murder.

8 minutes of forced passion,

of rushed kisses

and exaggerated rhythms.

My heart is drenched in vomit

and it will never rinse clean.

I pulled the trigger,

some bullets can't be called home.

I have killed my love

and I must live with that truth,

all my days and nights ahead.

 

written September 9th 2014

Forgotten poem

I float with the current.

I lost my fight long ago.

I have no joy in my life.

I move without reason .

I want without desire.

 

Written August 10th 2014

daydreaming at night

I thought we could fuck

in the back of the truck

that sits in my driveway,

outside.

I would have wrapped my legs

around your waist

and grabbed the back of your head.

I would have dragged my lips

across your chest and nibbled

your neck and your ears.

The cool night air would have stung at first

and the moon light,

illuminate our skin.

I would have

surrendered myself to you.

I would have be weak.

It would have been a moment in time

that never existed

because of it,

we'd never speak.

No regrets

because in that moment

I did as I wanted,

reckless, free, powerless

to stop it.

A fuck in the back of a truck,

in my driveway,

outside.

 

written August 28th 2014

 

 

Ankle Deep

I feel too much.

The ice breaks and I fall.

fast.

it's hard to digest that,

like a thirsty fish.

Does such a thing even exist?

How can I love what murders me?

How can you desire what suffocates thee?

Like a naked tree

in the winter,

it will pass

and we will stand

soldiers in the night.

This is not the end of me.

My roots are too deep for that.

 

written August 21st, 2014 

 

 

Nasty

my sister is a mess,

a slutty stained dress

with lipstick on the hem.

a map of all her men,

smudges where their hands

have been.

my dreams,

 once seemed fulfilling

like a nine month stretch.

but now they seem intimidating

and I question them.

And a question needs an answer,

like an uneasy heart needs a test.

while slutty dresses need attention

and a whore needs plenty of rest.

 

written sometime in spring 2014

joy is tricky or is that sticky?

I sit in the shower,

stand in the bath.

you can think it's weird,

I'm okay with that.

you shook all the fruit

off my tree.

left me naked,

a lock with no key

my walls are scribbled

with crayon,

but sticky with love.

my prison is also my joy.

tricky, tricky, tricky.

life pulled one over on me.

 

written sometime in spring 2014

Stockholm Syndrome

I gave you space.

And you ran with it.

too little too late.

Let's not make the same mistake.

I hung myself on your words

But I wake up

and let the curtain drop

Bare feet on the hardwood floor

And if you came to me again

I would stand before you

Just as I am

Naked and plain

Don't care if I look pretty or not

No contoured cheekbones

nothing painted or lengthened

or propped up

no smoke and mirrors

my flawed self in it's entirety

stripped down to my bare necessities

raw animal nature possessing me

A plain Jane.

Just space.

Run with me.

 

written July 4th 2014

Squeaky Floorboard

I walked off quietly

into the night

A grasshopper's shadow

A pissed out flame,

knowing fully

it would leave you

unsatisfied

Leave you empty

Craving drama

A desperation dance

in a dimly lit room

A squeaky floorboard

Sorely avoided

it's been stepped on too many times

woken children

silenced gossip

A boy who cried wolf

but never followed through

A rotten apple with nothing to do

except rot

in a special spot

quietly into the night

you're not worth

a scene.

 

-written June 20th 2014

Intentional Sabotage (Dead Rabbit)

I write you letters,

I will never send.

You will never read.

Just dead words on loose leaf.

I had an idea.

A tiny little seed,

and you offered up water

and a ray of light.

It started to take shape.

Roots and buds appeared

but you grew dark and dry

And killed it.

An intentional sabotage.

She's buried in the backyard now.

The evidence still under my nails.

And I think of you

when I stand there.

I think of that dead rabbit we saw,

while walking together

that May morning.

Chilly enough for a winter coat.

It was an obvious sign

but I was a giddy girl again

sneaking a boy out,

morning breathe,

frost on the grass

and I missed it till just now.

That should have told me something.

nothing good can come from dead rabbits.

You must have seen it coming

You must have sensed it too.

 

written June 18th 2014

Passing Thoughts

I just want something.

I don't know what.

A person,

A place,

A feeling.

I'm not sure.

I tell myself it won't happen again.

I'm getting over this.

The panic,

the balloon in my chest,

the surge of Hell that chokes me,

that knocks me off my feet,

And takes my breath away

And holds me still.

Squeezes the life from me,

Embraces me like a lover,

a smooth move I always fall for...

"Slice and dice" he whispers.

It's been too long.

 

written Feb 11th 2014

Birthday Murder

My body is a castle,

that has seen better days.

Flesh can hold a grudge.

My hesitation is only a crutch,

for I need a gentle heart

to unleash this flood.

You,

are a crude coward,

nursing a beer,

driving a dart.

You were only a means to an end,

nothing special,

never a start.

I wanted to believe your words

but like fireworks,

they fell apart.

And now it's just dark.

Your bite was nothing

compared to your bark.

 

written June 1st 2014

 

 

Bad Thursday

A flip of a switch

And baby we're back in business.

You're waking up a lush.

You're working up a slut.

You're tempting out a very dark soul.

How did I not know,

I was dead?

My second coming.

This girl has risen.

And this girl can have it all.

Written April 22nd 2014

dead dog

One night stands

never did me any good.

But I never was one to gamble.

My heart is clingy

And my lips

never forget.

That's hard to admit.

Your name sounded like sugar once.

Now it's yucky like burnt toast

And common like a cold.

A sneeze in the face.

No jam can save this joke.

A bitter mouthful,

A sour state of mind.

I'm a wingless angel,

dirty and damp

lying on my back.

You're a dead stiff dog

Who barks like a wolf

but we both know the truth.

And that's hard to admit.

-written March 3rd 2014

 

 

Lame (I used to be brave)

Reality is a cruel

son of a bitch.

She strikes when the water's warm,

while a laugh is still being born,

long before the silence can form.

There is no meat

left on these bones.

No blood in these veins.

There is no hope

left in this heart.

It died and decayed,

left only a stain.

It reminds me how far I came.

I don't gamble like I used to.

I'm not brave like that anymore.

Now it's about adaptation,

and conservation and keeping it all alive.

Because memory plays a funny game.

She's selective and fickle

And love,

is just fucking lame.

 

 

Bullshit

Long lost love,

flushed down the drain,

All the men I could have kissed...

But writing for the sake of writing

is bullshit.

I want to feel something.

I want a crazy stalker,

passion,

and lust.

I want you to hike up my skirt

and lick off the dust.

I want to dance in the desert

and be naked with no shame.

I want to be remembered...

someone's girl,

someone's flame.

Give me air,

let me breathe.

And I'm trying to hard

to make this a poem

when the truth is,

I'm sad.

I feel dull and alone.

Undesirable down to the core.

I need a reason to shine

but of course it's dark

inside a heart

you need to open your eyes

to see.

 

written now

Talk to me or don't

I was the flavour of the week

An unlocked house on a dead end street

Just easy prey.

Fresh new meat.

they picked my bones,

I'm a tasty treat.

So many promises

they just can't keep.

 

written Jan.23rd 2014