the-queen-of-youth

when thinking of you i like a smoke or six drive a poisonstick deep into my lungs rot might reach my brain erase our wheezing laughs nights of nicotine haze smog mixing with sweat you're fumes of a cig wispy, wonderful whirls absorbed into corners never to be seen again smelling of burnt skin i'm pulled from nostalgia and light another match

Selective collective    - coagulating - regret accumulating against you. Re - living it was the easy part. No way.  There was no light. Cellophane whispers the glow of a ghost. - heart murmurs - I paused to savor the expansion of blood in my arteries. A declaration of demons       - monstrosity - impressionable weaponry. But honestly, I was just like them.  I just wanted my pound of flesh. _____________________

 winter nights, summer daze i beat my fists along the dirt. i am exhaling smoke and fireflies in angst. soft teenage rebellion pulses through my veins    and yet i am freezing. i will become a stone angel in the moonlight forever frozen in my desperation to escape. yet as the sun begins to set and my toes begin to change color i will sit along the shoreline, crying out     "I  exist I exist!"

Let's lose our faces tonight Chemical anxiety and paper highs Thrown to the curb by something stronger, small and white While stars burn out their insides; Prometheus in the sky. I always thought you were a lie: Stinking pop culture curling bright around my eye But now I wonder if your treasure is something I could find Leaping from the bass lines into my frenzied, eager mind.

I am nervous unsettled, unprepared impressed to the point of intoxication perhaps I am playing the part of a girlchild, reincarnated from something striped hands-shaking, violin bones (high- strung) perhaps it is/has been/will be you is it cliché to make comparisons to kryptonite, to an envelope delivered with a white settling of anthrax? your smile tangles with the half-poetry you breathe out instinctively, sharp and wintered you are surprising like frostbite. the soft teeth of morning freeze; and I, dull, wordless, naive and lightning-struck I am nervous

And we draw Scissor shapes In a thousand shades Of red ink But you, my dear, Are color blind.

What is this on the next horizon holding strong against the wind, it is a figment, it is an oil stain, it is something less than a blur and more than a photograph.

You told me once you would break my stars, tear them from the sky and devour them s l o w l y. I neglected to tell you they all had their own feelings and your bruises form my own constellation in the quiet valleys of my firefly skin. I am the milky way. And you, my sweet- You are nothing more than a dead star with a pretty name.

Light bulb eyes, burning through me like electric currents, Your waves crash into me as I dream, your ocean spits me out through seaweed teeth, and I love you, but you blink light and breathe water, so not only am I blind, I am drowning.

It took years to build a home like that. Dreams he had, reality in which he is. It took years... A house in which he creates peace, but the pieces of happiness are too small. It took years... Dreams he had, life he lives, emptiness he feels, even walls whisper. Days are long, and almost the same, nothing new to awake the joy, dreams are buried a long time ago, tho man still lives. Empty and sad, angry and bitter, he still lives in the house in which he used to plan his future, dreams that kept him alive, tho pieces of happiness are too small, it took years to built a home like that. It took years fo