And Nothing Was Okay Anymorewhat if it's not realanymoreand we're justlying to each other?going through themotionsbecause weenjoy themand nothing more?what if you're notperfectand i'm notperfectand when we told eachother we wereperfectwe were secretly lying toeach other andnow everyone cansee it?what if i justlied to you becausei'm scared ofloosing you?(you're perfect)and i can feel usslippingi know we'reslippingbut i don't knowhow to fix it?and i don't knowif i want itto stop?what if it'strue and youread it and don'tsay anything aboutit (again)?or what if youdo read itand saysomethingabout itand ilie to youabout it (again) ?what happens then?what happens if i tell the truth?i knowwhat happensand know i don'twant it to.(do i?)so i won't sharethis with the worldjust yet.not until i knowfor certain thateverything'sokay.everything is not okay
Yours never wasand never will be what the fuck was i thinking.
My Brother Is Not GayI've never been very goodat putting onnail polish.My brother tried to teach me once;one strip down the middleone down the left sideone down the rightrepeat.He learnt that from hisgirlfriendat the time.
NamesakeI'm sorryI can't say morethanI love you.
GirlI was your first kiss.You will always be my last love.
Return To Senderyou were nevermeantto hold myhand.
This One Is About You.Hey,I want you.Just once,that's all it would take.
I Don't Want To Wash My HairMy friend,curled up around me,said my hairsmelt nice.I did not tell herthat was becauseit smeltof you.
UnusualUp to datewith crossing outnumbers.
everything he never couldx.it wasnt intentional for me to become a poetuntil we slumber-slept together.he was the boy with wounds stapled shut.he was the boy who would scream at the sun and stars for being brighter than him.he was just another cliché boy who dreamt in black and white another cliché boy that never came back.o.he unbuttoned my white shirt after his mothers third weddingand i never wore it again.he broke fine china in an angry storm when i blew smoke in his faceand said, i liked myself better before i met you.he always looked best dressed with tearsand i learned his lifeline was short for a reason.x.i was busy carving my name into every tree i could reachtrying to tell myself that what we did was alright.he taught me that sometimes hate isnt a strong enough word.o.i remember seeing him and walking the other way.i can still hear his voice in the back of my mind sayingi dont know,i dont know,i dont know bu
not beautiful on the insidedear boy:why do you keep running away? when i see you i want to scream your name in a pitch higher than the tide pulls, but even if i did you wouldnt turn around.-dear girl:did you know that its bad luck to make wishes on shooting stars?did you know that fucking is just physics? so dont be jealous.did you know that did you know,did you know,did you know?im high right now andhonest-to-god im not okay.-dear boy:policemen are patrolling libraries when they should be outside your house getting ready for whats going to happen. i can tell that expression on your face means nothing but bad.-dear girl:im afraid that flesh on flesh will turn into pen on paper and just be a part of the past,another suicidal poets piece one that will make people want to cry,one that will make you want to cry becauseit would be the proof left behind, saying that you couldnt fix mebut did you ever stop to think that maybe i didn
flowersandrobotsthe futurelover isjudging the durationby the a-mount of empty chairsarranged at yourreception andthe futurelover winksan eyefor twowho arecounting couplescoaxing coupletsfrom the tulipswhile their true lipsaremouthingmatching movementstohuman hipsin hopesof comingallungluedand the priceof every presentis the former youreadyforresentmentorthe never pleasantpersistence offorevernon-existence
tonight my heart is buried.the night you left me, i ran outside into the snowbarefoot and sealed your footprintsinto a plastic bag.i know you wouldve laughed if youd seen the tearsdancing on my defeated bed sheets.i wouldve smiled if you had because ilove that laugh.i couldve hidden your heavy snow boots soyou couldnt snap from my jerky thigh.but your brain is outrageously scaled withintelligence so you wouldve found them anywayswith your sugar coated eyelids.i wouldve cried if you had because imiss those eyes.honey, i shouldve traced your trailand kidnapped your bed so maybe, just possiblyyou could slip back into mine.i guess your heart would rather choose anotherhouse over mine, though, despite my ransom note.i wouldve collapsed because iwish it loved me.
7 postcards from an explosionpostcard 1:wish you were her.postcard 2:i am afraid of a lot of things and iwould like to know where this isgoing. (nothing makes me feel as safeas your fingertips)postcard 3:ive been searching and searching andsomewhere along the way I realized thati am not lost and you are not home. and iam not coming back.postcard 4:you know, I used to think that I could getover everything. but everything just got overme.postcard 5:when she died, she turned white like a saint. icould not look into her marble eyes and iam afraid I never will, even though she is gone.postcard 6:i look at you, then i look at me, theni look at you looking at me. then i do itagain 47 billion times. i tell you I amtrying but i hope this never reaches you.postcard 7:i want your flowers because i love you.
all the words simon never saidmy strategy forsimon says has always beento follow your hearthow it beats and ticks,how it learns and how it yearns,how its always yours-Simon Says: stare into my eyes,Simon Says: and pretend i care.Simon Says: spill your guts out.Simon Says: dont say anything.Simon Says: stop trying so hard.Simon Says: stop overanalyzing.Simon Says: keep following my misleading signals; your confusion amuses me.Simon Says: waste your clock batteries on me; im totally worth all the trouble.Simon Says: fall head over heels for me until you trip and decapitate yourself.Simon Says: love me.Simon Says: hate me.Simon Says: give up.Simon Says: ignore me.Simon Says: forget me._________: be mine...but i losefor you didnt saysimon says-i always hated playing one-sided games with you,but that never stopped you from playing with me.
Uncertain SeasonsI.She's beautiful I tell myselfCornsilk hair and honey eyesAnd delicate hands thatPlay piano in the twilightAnd every night I pass her byWindow open to the darkIn perfect profile and I thinkMaybe tomorrow.II.She smiles at the musicA faded sundress and theBlue ribbon in her hairMake her eyes danceAnd summer fades andAutumn falls and theWindow closes and I thinkMaybe tomorrow.III.Her hazy frosted profileGlows gold against the glassThe music, muted, warms theTips of my reddened earsI leave tracks in the snow andBreathe in the dry cold and theIce begins to melt and I thinkMaybe tomorrow.IV.Her face against the greenOf a thousand climbing vinesHer window framed by roses andThrown open to the night againI stop and I listen in my ownQuiet way and I wonder if maybeTomorrow yes tomorrow maybe"Hello."
troisif i had three heartsi would bury the broken one,i would kill the sorrowful one,and i'd give the last one to you.if i only hadthree hearts.
All His Milestones On FilmAll His Milestones On FilmStarring Sanjay Dutt as Sand and ShadowTa-da: his childhood came unwrappedlike his mothers parcel at the boarding schoolset in hills far north of Dehli.It has to be said he was brilliantly packaged- in silver and stretched,a song on religious ecstasyplayed with a spoon on foil,The projector's purgrew coarser with each flicker.In this cage, every featureis a première to her, every detailapprehended for the first timeSoot came up when the silk was torn,up from thirteen streets in Bombay,up like the sand when child's castleis kicked down.He became a creeping figure,a shadow, a smudge,grit on the reel.If only she could restore him,replace each shell on the battlements but no. The boy is spread on celluloid like a sand angel.Dust and a pistol are all his remains.And in truth, she is dust,billowing between frames.
If you give a girl a heart...If you give a girl a heartshe's going to need oxygen for it to pump, soshe's going to start breathing.And then she'll probably scream, andshe'll want her mother's milk. After a few yearsof drinking milk, her mother is going to get fed up with itand start her on baby foodwhich will quickly be replaced by Cheerios while she watches cartoonsBut if you let her watch cartoonsshe is going to want every toy they showon the commercials, and once she gets themshe'll want next year's line. Within a matter of yearstoys won't be enough; she'll want video gamesand trademarked merchandiseand name-brand shoes.But if you take her to the mall for shoesshe's going to see the middle school girlswalking around with their boyfriendsand she's going to feel somehow that they have something she doesn'tand she's going to want one for herselfand everything is going to changeAnd she is going to want fashionable clothesand lipglossand mascara, and once she gets tired of themshe's going to
tetanus shot of the rainbow.i saw you in one of the slides of my viewfinder toy today.you were the red sweater that i spent 7 months knitting,the tomorrow that refused to come becauseits seams were sewn shut,but i spent yesterday seeing your reflection in the sun.i burnt my eyes out, but none of it mattered becausei didn't need eyes to listento the canaries singing inside my ribs. they sang'he loves, he loves you not, he loves you, he'sgone.'you're gone. you're no longer in front of me;you're inside my veins, playing bumper carswith my arteries. i felt the collision wheni was eating plates off of a styrofoam cookie,hiding under a tortoise's shell. you arethe greens in the parachute that closes andopens, you are the closed restaurant with theterrible food, you are the closed oyster boy.i cracked open your shell but there was never a pearl;only a mess of worms eating away whatever was left of your heart.i made chalk from your powdered bones and wrote'i thought you were white, like bright lights
ten.ten.seven years ago todayhe went to workon a chilly october morningand never returned.he had lived a good lifefull of love and happiness,which was brutally cut short that dayby an inexplicable act of God.so when the bridge crumbled beneath himand he fell to the unfeeling ground,he was cradled by the worlds lamentat this bitter injustice.he left behind his soulmateand three children:the blossomsof his loves cultivation.i left behind my regretsand my teenage naivety:the broken steps createdby my blanketed feelings.seven years ago, he fellbecause he had no choice.seven years later, i flybecause he reminded me thati do.
Strawberries, A guitar and YouYesterday I hung upside down by my knees in a pine tree. And as I clung to the curve of the branch.I remembered the curves of your hips.I remember the day I realised your hipsweren't curved any more. They were pointed bone.You played my old guitar in the summer.Eating strawberries, with out removing the stem.I painted in the &
haikuzano one really knows(how to draw)a heart
telescope sunglassesthe genuinereflections oforganizedexistenceyour skin's justan excuseto seestars breathea union of verseimpressed uponthe properprinciplesof un-disciplineddiscipleswe're spacegone crazyall atomsjugglinginfrequencyfrequentlythe galaxyinside of mewants tofigure itselfoutcompletelyfrom dustto duskreturned
Fool.with the hopethat you're near mei follow on