who says

soft blue home
like rolling stones, like
self-redemption the skies rolled
on and on and i did, too
i couldn't bear the sight of a mirror
or you

(and to think, everyone else
so loved your eyes, your hair
you litter picture frames from tragic years)

i'm leaving, now
and it makes me sick
i'm leaving to stop me from doing that
but the ocean is one great mirror
and the plane can't turn around
and europe is so far away
will this really make me stronger?

they called me wendy
but i was the one who was lost
just because i once flew doesn't mean
i know my way
never, never again i keep saying
i can't, but i can
and it hurts to know that i need this
but it hurts more to wonder if that's really true

unused essays

i don't know where you are tonight
the boxes all stare at me
from my little light, like a
haunted isle, minced, packaged lives
i could swear i saw the future
in 2005.
i was young then.

someone told me to love my neurosis
it makes me me
good-for-nothing me
but that same man said
"stand up, you are worth that much"
it takes a lot to stand up,
i hope you understand
how can i be worth so much and so little?

this morning, the fog
covered only chimneys
like there was something to conceal in
the topmost bricks of these houses
skeletons in the attic shouting
look up, look up!
but i can't really see. it's foggy.

regression progression

saw you at my will, like you said
my time only
so you could say what
i, being me, never expect
and i could prove to myself
that something exists
beyond levees and electrical currents
and my bones keeping me
well-aware, well removed.

it almost worked
i followed myself home and
laughed and scoffed and
kicked a pebble to pull in the tide
until it was safe to drown
in deep blue when i

had the chance, underwhelming
i know
to plan my sighs
but i have to start somewhere
right?

i guess when i tried to be angry
i could feel this shell aching
for something, something
please

please, let there be something.

triple entente

the whole world smelled of apples
twilight and smoke from a dream
and i did dream, even if
i thought it was hopeless, i did
and i woke up to find
pyramus and thisbe, a play inside a play
the destruction of the parthenon
of personality and pain, because i know
everyone feels the numbness
until the only thing left is our
bones
sliding against each other, alone, and
charcoal wings on the sidewalk
because nobody is watching over and
an imprint; false love
and a bullet for a freckle

which is strange, because i can still feel the wind

the muliple personalities of multiple choice

i had my skeleton drive back
to wander through these halls, to
predict whether i'd be
black or blue (false or true)
by april fool's day, ghastly parade
celluloid hall, alone in a river but
i watch you fall
face-first, and you didn't know it
until the dripping blue caught up to you and
warned you that the atmosphere would swallow
us up

it's hard to lie these days, when
i could see blacks but i always see grey
just a pale shade but i know i'm right
glad you're not me, glad i'm not you
the river was shallow
but it ran so true.

moratorium

i'm just a question
a petty thief
searching for words to explain your grief
and i could write pages of dripping dawn
tightrope suns and
silly schemes
to rid the world of its lesser themes
but i know i'm wrong
these things will haunt us
they will be bedsheets hung on the door
hurricane warnings, silent good mornings
from a silent war
there's no such thing
as a cease-fire, only a play
to forget our lines. call it a treaty
go on with living, or fighting this war.

not fade away

we were left with shells
ragged and crying for closure
and the skies, they heard us and
opened up and the rain felt like fire in my lungs
legions of hate, we'll never die
never fade

it's a lie, and we know it.

i want to kiss the goodbye from your lips
i want to take you back home, find
your favorite stuffed animal and stop you from crying
you're liquefying before my eyes
and all i can do is hope that when you're blue,
i'm still in love,
because i need this reason.

this is not closure.
this is not fair.

(screens aside, i would die in your world
but i live in mine).

save your generation

on perfect film
the way the eyelids on your lips
they open all the way to
see we're never really done
we keep running
sudden exposure in the twilight
sun
it makes the world
move just a little bit

faster. i left my body behind
when i tried to understand
no pain, no fear, because i was afraid.
and i just stared
at those eyes closed on your lips
and knew that when they opened,
the sun would blind them.

what i meant to say was,

i keep on taking the sun for granted
losing ground
sweating too much and it's making the goddamned
polygraph move a bit too much

i could tell myself
it's our thing (and maybe it is)
but it's not a code, i'm not staring at an empty
booth
filling it with self-affirmation
(sleep deprivation
the leaves fall faster than the speed of sound).

it's odd how we dance around
the fact that neither one of us knows what to do
about the fact
that i just like being around you.

1 3 7 (someone called rachel)

from your lips i hoped
for grace, for
hallelujah

i should have known
the discord beneath your eyes
we put so much stock in pupils, but
falling flesh burns better than
rope
and i can see your sleepless nights
inner fights
with nothing but a glance

when i had passions
i was wrong every time
i called love by its first name and
it called me out
and i was wrong
every time.

our lady

out one window burning march
to horizons, belying stars
the other holds a pale new grey
like water, still, waiting for your
alabaster touch
dry eyes aren't worth a dam.
(you know-
sticks, stones, sepia uncleaned bones).

you were charisma
thirty months and every one
a question mark stylishly slashed
on thrashing backs.
you called it a tattoo.
your eyes are a puzzle piece
your voice, a clue

i could hear the timbre before
the ax came down
thirty months of listening
six
for a sound