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.
time-spinning, frail organsdecemberi signed the form today, the dark clouds beyond your window--swollen with rain, bruising the sky--echoing the mood trapped behind closed doors. at six, i took your bandaged hand--careful, dear, you told me six months ago. don't bump the i.v.--and whispered goodbye with my tears. i whispered my secrets before you let yourself go.do you remember growing up? we were twenty-four, fresh out of college, and you were beautiful. your crimped-up, decked-out, rust-red-tinted hair smelled of black licorice markers and cups of chai tea. i buried myself in its webs that night. begged you to take me away.and you did, love. the sway of your hips kissing mine stopped the world, and for ten seconds, i forgot what you told me. for a moment, i forgot you were already moving on.novemberyour eyes were yellow, feverish, the frailty of your failing organs much too
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.
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.
::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. &