blame the sandmandear paradise girl:you have seaweed in your hairand your eyes are painted with mother-of-pearls.the sand between your toeshas crusted overand when i place my head against your chest,i panicbecause i can't find a heartbeat.and you laugh,a clogged-up gurgle,because you know that i've forgotten what you're made of.you don't have a pulse.instead,i hear the rhythm of blue waves beneath your skin.dear paradise girl:you have crabs clipped to your earlobesand you wear seagull feathers for a dress.there are blue-kelp tattoos across your shouldersand a ring of suction-cup stars around each ankle,and when you move,you move like water.and when you wrap your arms around me,i draw back in fearbecause your skin molds to mine like mud...and you grin,a snaggle-toothed vision,because you know i've forgotten once again.your skin is cool and clammyand i can't stand to hug youanymore than i can chew on sand.forgive me.dear paradise girl:you're crying grains of saltand the b
bad habits and emosdead things, tornadoes,moldy bread and sour milk.a good day gone wrong.pinstripes, needle pricks;faceless men in dark jackets.bleeding in a grave.dry chocolate cream,a white shirt stained strawberry.a klutz in need.hurt children, crying;the monster that lives in me.change in the making.broken hearts, dying;a scream following sunset.a body and tears.cuts and short movies;horror, gore, and depression.a habit to break.emos and goth freaks.spiked hair, earrings, black shirts. well...you asked what i like.
::forgetting is easy:: partoneday one.twenty-one. female. curly black hair, shoulder-length, bangs long enough to cover blue eyes. veil them, untwinkling, no stars to be found, from the world. secrets to be kept. hidden demons, uncontrolled.i know the following to be true:i like the fizz of sprite on my tongue, a whiff of mandarin oranges in the web of a stranger's callused hands. mint-flavored dental floss and sculpting the half-heart curve of my lips against metal.i like cold showers and rough wood under my palms. the squelch of green grass beneath my toes just as the sun breaks the horizon. i dream in grayscale and cry in the key of b-minor.but mostly, i know that i do not know me. there's a dark smudge breathing just behind the whites of my eyes, and no matter how hard i rub, it won't go away. no matter how hard i try...i can't remember.day two.twenty-one. &
Redaction Poetry ThreeLove is darkness,a choice.The edge of breaking down.A eulogy.Lonelyand blackafter you.Washed woundsof brokenSaints and Sailors.A lieof tears,regret,and knowing about foolish pride.And this storypacked no tears.Baby's gotten good at goodbye.
::stapled tongues:: collabhe has dragon tattoos,a bad-boy attitude,and a staple holding together his tongue.Storm-grey eyes seeing the worldin raindrop transparenciesand smoke-clouded faces.he hears metal and rockin the whisp of the windand tastes arsenic in every drink,brain clogged with numbnessand fuzzy-thought-slippersas the room spins and leaves his heart gasping.for airfor more.[for anything else that matters]and everyone looks the same,except herand the ways her emerald eyes move,because when he glances in the mirror,he sees only demons,but when he's with her,she can almost make him shine pretty.but the world isn't rainbowsand he's chugging alcohol by the tankloadin hopes of disrupting his obsession with her...because he knows he won't change.[he can't.but he wants to.he wishes to be anything he's not.]--the rain seems to be pouring more intensely than ever beforeand it is becoming oh so hard to breathein the lung piercing midst of early december mo
Redaction Poetry FourA sky of jasper paradisemade doubtdim the Angel's field.The fireleft the garden alonewhile a cloud veiled Heaven.Such terrible fearshould not offend the Arch-Angel,but the star unbuckled him.He heard Death give graceand appease his paradise."Permit the garden to take fitter soil,"he said.
snapshot imaginingssnapshot.two tight-hitched diapers disappeared beneath the duvets of our bed. one was striped with purple to match the elephant in her crib. the other was neon green for the barettes we always put in her hair. because even back then, they were identical. right down to the star-patterned moles on their smallest toes. we didn't notice, until far too late, that ivy's eyes were bright green at the edges. that rose always wrinkled her nose when we got them messed up. we didn't see that the stars were their birthmarks and that ivy's was bigger. or that rose's points were turned upside-down.snapshot.one mess of spilled nail polish on new hardwood floor, one-inch foot smears leading the way down a brightly carpeted hallway. a confession written in mommy's favorite teal, the proof of guilt stuck to their heels. ivy pranced like a princess with glee.&