i want someone to hurt me, to violate me and destroy me. i want someone to kill me, someone to mess me up so that my body matches my heart. these desires, they're all wrong, aren't they? but it's fine. i'm filthy, so i need to be cleansed. i want to show the world the hate and the dirt trapped inside of me. i feel so disgusting. i hate this. i hate this. kill me.

feel free to ignore this post

i must've been high on depression

She is my poetry in the flesh

Beautiful lines with curves that flow

My perfect page to write my words

With my tongue and my quill

Letters spill upon her from my lips

Withe each kiss

Then I write my sonnets of passion

On her secret garden so sweet

Hearing the poems of her lust

She then takes the quill

And writes her own song

pretend you're

windowless

& I'm the

unseen

an unassuming scent

of august rain

that delicately

spins still air

paints walls pink

like baby-soft breaths

between ribs &

hipbones

lah  8.9.12 ©®

You thought

Your heart was broken

But now you know it's not

It's scared

Something that hurt so deep

Always leaves a mark

A mark of pain

A mark of the past

When something so deep

Is torn away

It can't heal true

It can't heal full

Something broken

Always scars

I  got drunk off my tears 

I let the salt trickle  down my throat

and burn the callused wounds in my heart

it burned like gasoline but the feeling left me peaceful better than alcohol.

I doused the bottle down my throat and  swallowed my pain.

I went to the cupboard and grabbed a cup

and twisted out my handkerchief and let the tears hit the bottle 

I let them fall

too fast and they shatter

Now I am mess and drunk 

and spilling over with guilt

this was just accident 

I didn't mean for it happen

I just was drinking to get out of my head

I love how my mouth is left dry aching with pain

But the salt tastes so good

so why stop?

They say: "salt heals all wounds"

I am just trying to cover the wound in my heart.

Carved candle light

could not illuminate

the shadowed floor

of the well of my desire:

bottomless.

I am emptiness.

My hunger wants to pass you

and everything else

through the eye of my needle.

On the myth of sustained satisfaction:

Siddhartha says put aside your desire.

Mine is beside me,

a twin grown full form:

all arms clutching and legs leading

eyes rolling madly between all beautiful things.

I am a flytrap unfed, closing in on itself.

If innocence were a river, then I was never allowed to go swimming. I was pulled back by the hair before I ever had a chance to dive in. I never felt the icy water kiss my burning flesh. 

Unable to be pulled from depths I was never allowed to venture into, I was confined to the beach. Only able to view the kids who played jubilantly in the shallows. I often imagined what it would be like to be one of them, but I never got the chance to properly imagine the freedom they were afforded. My mind would be brought back to more horrific things. More realistic things. 

As we walked home I would glance back at the beach until it left my sight, and as the sun set I would listen as loving parents called out to their children, interrupting their blissful foolishness to notify them that it was their turn to go home. 

If innocence were a household, I was never invited inside. I was always left standing on the doormat. That welcome mat would be the closest that I would ever get to being invited into a place so comfortable. I would never feel the warmth of the fireplace that burned inside, and the flavor of the food that had been cooking all evening would never touch my tongue. 

I often looked through the window and watched children eat with their families, and talk about the trivial things that they found exciting, and I would imagine what it was that they said before being pulled away from the window by my hair. At my own house there was no food as reality was forced down my throat. 

If innocence were a person, I never got to meet her. She was a kind lady, and I gazed dreamily as she interacted with the other children that I saw. I would watch as she read stories to those children, and I would feel envy when she laughed at the jokes they told. 

When I passed by her, I would wave and I would pull a smile back across my face, but of all the times I saw her, she never noticed me. I would turn my head to look behind me as she walked passed. I would watch her wave to the child that walked behind me before having my head twisted back around, the grip of a firm hand pulling at my hair. 

I would listen to the child's laughter, and then her own as we walked in the opposite direction. I looked up at the face to which the hand that held mine belonged, but no smile was afforded to me, no attention at all.  

One day, I saw her again, though. This time the interaction I saw her partaking in wasn't as joyful as I had come to expect. She was with a young, weeping child and as I walked by I heard her comforting him. But the words she uttered were not meant to benefit the boy, as every single syllable that left her mouth had been a lie. 

fragile like a thread 

unraveling in the hand of the child

an absent-minded lick of a lollipop

a carelessly handshake of a stranger 

an innocent curl of hair with her finger 

she slapped a stick of lipstick to her mouth

a curious look in the mirror

and an innocent slip of  the finger into the throat

Innocent eyes glamorized picture books,  Elmer's glue trickled onto her skin.

Scissors slowly reached the paper but turned to her skin.

Slowly the mirror in her room was replaced with a mirage.

The dolls in her room became her idols they were put onto her shelves instead of her doll house.

She used to play with her Ipad but now she plays with the scale.

She slowly drags in the cigar smoke dragging in from the neighbor boy's coat and soon drags the smell to her lips and blows it out.

Her innocence slipped away from her as quickly as she would slip her clothes from her shoulders.

A man walked up to her and pointed to her body and said you my dear are worth a shiny copper penny and she responded my fathers use to give me pennies for candy at the penny store and dragged a liquor bottle to her lips and fell into his hands.  

Her innocence trailed behind her like lost a puppy.

She tried to hold on to it with her pinky.

Her eyes lost its shine

Her smile lost its luster

and then she was nothing but a penny.

Everything I touch turns to dust, 

so hold me close, hold me tight, 

dry my tears, kiss me if you must, 

love me, give me a reason to fight,

No one is around, nobody cares

enough to notice, to see, the pain, 

I've heard them all, all the swears,

none are meant, so please refrain, 

Everything I want doesn't matter,

I will never find it in this place, 

my heart, broken, cannot shatter,

agony hidden behind my face, 

so wrap your arms around me, 

and pretend that you love me. 

He called me Alice.

Twenty years my senior

He worked the frostbite

Out of my boot

And his charisma

Took me

To the highest mountain

Playing hooky to ski and

Wrapped in our sales

And in a fantastical sweep

Our babies were born

But he left

His good looks behind

Coupled with time and

I have to forgive you

For getting lost in

Your chaotic reality

Missing the best parts

Of what we shared

In their given names of

Olivia and Dominic.