You

yell louder

but

i

am already crying am already

on my knees.

please stop.

i forget sometimes, what

it means to be human

i

don’t think there’s some deep meaning to

find, to search for like the

coins in my purse when we were a dollar

short at McDonalds at 5 am. that was

life or death,

but don’t tempt me with death.

i guess this is why you drive, not me.

i

dismiss life, but

not you. you’ve

always said you were a visual learner.

you look at me while i shower eat undress walk sit

breathe

and it makes me feel, at least for a little while,

not entirely dead.

~ ~

h e r

s u n n y

d i s p o s i t i o n

l e a v e s u s

f r e c k l e d

~ ~

Do roads ever talk among themselves

About the blood

that people spilled on them

Sometimes even nonchalantly

jerking their bodies

And smashing their brains in the asphalt

Do they talk about cars making love to each other

crashing into steel

The searing heat

Branding their affections

With a fireworks display of luminous sparks

And smoke

Do they ever see the men,

Tired of slips and burns,

Their impotency and their home loans,

And kids and work and

Their lack of importance,

Their lack of masculine effort

So tired that they

run and they run on the roads in cricles till their feet bleed

And somehow they sit down silent

Tired out of the sheer exhaustion

And sleep a sleep that's dotted with daydreams

And sleep a sleep that's forever.

Do roads converse in black

Or do they adorn themselves

With the littered dead flowers

And the plastic that humans peel

From their faces

And throw out on the roads to be cooked in

The sun.

The disfigured rose

that didn't win a heart,

A cigarette butt still glowing

Cheap Ecstasy being scooped up by poverty to

Forget his tantrums

The girl being dragged off into the alleyways

Into the night that's young with

People drinking shots and partying

And do roads talk about youth and her fancies

Her terms and conditions and diseases and affections.

The morbid thoughts that creep into the brain of a stillborn girl

bloom into pestering

Weeds that grow themselves into concrete buildings

Housing shivering cowardly Orthodoxy

And

do roads talk about

The future when

People won't walk over them anymore and

Do they talk about missing the pain they've grown used to

The constant stench of ammonia and devastation

The exhilarating pain that's riddled with

Ambulance lights and bomb squads

And hospitals denying pregnant women

Because they belonged to the streets

And do they talk about who'll take care of the radioactive homeless and provide them life when

In the future

The tarmac will lie in pregnant, ripe silence.

I guess all they ever talk about is

Whether we will ever pay back our debt to them.

And sometimes,

This debt drives me mad

i’m walking away

blood pouring onto

the sidewalk with traces of pink chalk

my heart in your hands,

dripping in the red liquid

my body is somehow

intact

i don’t know how

i thought i needed a heart

but i guess i don’t

just like i never needed

you

i will always paint you

as the bad one

as the one who broke my heart

and i am sorry

because it was not you

who broke me

it was me

i broke myself

i broke you

my heart

desperate to survive

drowned itself

in the waves

of your love and care and honesty

i am sorry

i never deserved you

and your beauty

we were made

for love

we were made

for each other

i am sorry

for messing it all up

for creating turbulence

when all you did was try to kiss the rain away

when all you wanted

was me

and my love

i am sorry

for crushing the flowers

with my doubts of your pure honey-love

i am sorry

i am sorry

but i am not asking for

forgiveness

please don't forgive me

i don't deserve that

either

how foolish

of me to think that our

fiery romance would

remain aflame our entire lives

how naive

of me to hope to be

your life-long lover

lips only kissing one another

how senseless

of me to dream of you

while you were dreaming of

her & her touch

her & her body

her & her flame

how foolish

of me to yearn for you

still

Last night a dream came to me

In layers

Peeling me, plucking me

Like a rose

It was a recurring nightmare

That had come to me

Twice before

In this world

I “woke up” and told my friends of this wretched dream

I woke up once more not sure

Of what was real

Beauty is measured in

how long you stare when I walk into a room

how many times you rest your hand on my face

how quickly I can break your resolve

how long you avert your eyes.

I can no longer see the beauty

in the mirror in the morning

or in the compliments of friends

(they have to say that/

they know I’m sensitive/

they don’t mean it/I don’t care if they mean it)

What does it matter what others/I think?

Beauty is only beauty if you see it.

It’s not for me.

you came back

just as my finger

was finishing the last stitch

of my heart

to make it whole

again

you crashed into

my life

and all at once,

the impact of you

unraveled all

the threads that i had been

carefully pulling

over & under

my fragile heart

that now lies

broken

my fingers grasp at the threads

and

start

threading