When was the last time x marked the spot

and you got what you sought, at your leisure?

when was the last time you were looked at

without being measured, just for pleasure?

looked at not as a tool, a means to an end

but as gold and jewels, as treasure.

as more than a friend, better

with someone that carries you, unwary you

reveals you finally, shiningly blindingly

like buried treasure, has someone ever treated you better?

they better.

whether you’re showing off gems or buried

in the oldest sweater.

no matter how much land and sand and weather

keeps you under, keeps us not together

remember for me you are buried treasure.

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she’s a little shy I’m overzealous

she’s a little too pretty I’m petty

or maybe overjealous

she’s a perfect painted rose

sky high on my trellis

and all I can tell is

all I can tell her,

well, is try to sell her

on the combination

of grounded and stellar

rooftops and cellar

and anything can grow into a bouquet

if you give it a while

but instead I go and just say

she has a beautiful smile

and she smiles

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Like to Like you

Feeling feelings liking liking

Feeling like liking you

Liking how I like you

Liking to like someone like you

Liking to feel, feeling real

Really feeling real feelings

A feeling is a feeling even if it’s

Feeling the feeling of liking to feel feelings


4 years until the sunrise


You don’t know what colors will have arisen

From this prison

You don’t know you don’t know the vibrancy of what’s alive in me

“No more hide and seek” it cries in me

You don’t know just wait and see

The vacancy

We will fill pools we’re out of your cage, we will spill cool over fires of rage

And sisters and mothers and brothers and others will smother

The sinister pyre of what we’ve discovered

The hate we now know will be brought down

Into ashes and fly up

And when we’re released from the bars rise up

When we cease to be jarred rise up

Feathered and tarred rise up

Our hearts are unmarred, rise up,

There’s a fire to tend.

We’ve risen from this prison before. Rise again.

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feeling feelings


its impossible

I know

for you

when I was young

it was impossible too

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one touch one lasts for years one crutch to last me years

time has passed me here, you have lasted here

I didn’t ask you here, but you are vastly here

one word one lasts for years once heard stays in my ears

time goes but I cradle it, you erode but I coddle it, water it

you last for years are you you are years

one person stagnating, it’s dated not dating

time has expired but I’m waiting, I have acquired

nothing new naught but you I’ve amassed you here

It can last me here

you are years


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masses longing to be seen, humbled by tightly constrained means

it’s the radio silenced, what is and what seems, actions rebuffed, made static, unrooted.

it’s the sounds and the means and the lies and the disputed

blind eyes towards unseen and the cries of the muted

hands tied by unclean, hands paid to look pleasant

the clarity of the past and the tricks of the present

the rarity of knowledge and the quick fix of the bandaids

the quick mix of the melting pot, quickly stirred as the past fades

a sadder flag unfurled over the shade of the motels outside Disneyworld,

a ladder here uncurls

ready to meet those with certain shapes of feats,

suede or leather too but not a tennis shoe

a cripple, a tip or a carefully constructed cinderella slipper

inside the gates of disneyworld, tempered to avoid outrage and factions

princesses based on affirmative action, it’s the result and the cause

and the play and the pause, we’re given a voice and then quietly smothered

as they’re hitting one button while pretending the other

yelling Odyssean debates so the public sees it and relates

lamenting with wails the loss it entails

the farce we see of job scarcity

the lie headed to being so deeply embedded that

we read it and talk it, walk it and tweet it, believing we

don’t have what’s in our pocket

a crock of melting pot stew disintegrating the you

drowning defenses

pouring into a bowl of pretenses

to cool for a while

topped liberally with a shit eating smile.

[Learn more about the Disneyland motels here or watch Homeless: The Motel Kids of Orange County.]

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Thalia & Melpomene

isn’t the masterpiece of tragedy laughable?

that the cacophony of living can be preferable to the symphony of death, we find ourselves as those who cling to life like a sailor to the mast of a ship, a masochist, hearing the sirens wail as we fear the ocean, the fear is a masterpiece.

the avoidance of the only certainty perplexes me, as does the trust put within a man standing in the clouds, with furrowed brow, motionless as his children slip into his oceans.

what is hope?

the evaluation of a situation as wretched is implied, but the possibility of an end is not denied, no matter the circumstances, whatever your stance is on religion and the truth it retains, or your cup and how much liquid contains, the careful emphasis kept on this clarity of an absolute rarity like miracles and peace makes man forget the disparity between what we can and can’t get.

the artists huddle in the rubble, under the shadows as men revel in the pain and wait for it to end, and we pen, that the realization of their blindness hides in the shadows of their mind and nears the tip of their tongues, and it’s what they’ll speak of in the last bubble of air that slides out of their lungs.

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Screen Shot 2016-02-04 at 6.11.34 PM

Clasp hands behind back close mouth tightly

Chin up, no words said and no words read is rightly

Books on head, chin up I said, close books tight, see?

Chin and bootstraps up so you walk more sprightly

Get out of bed, lace up corset and lace up lips

Look at those hips, lace up corset more tightly

Breathe carefully, don’t you dare trip, and don’t you

try to fight me. Walk lightly smile brightly and don’t

you dare touch that box I see your fingertips quiver,

your eyes flicker and your corsetted spine shiver,

Practice your walks, don’t touch that box, and don’t

you dare try to fight me. Say fuck you again, go

ahead, but curtsey to me and say it politely.

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she is smeared red words unsaid

it is deeply embedded inside of her head

and she doesn’t know where she’s headed,

only knows that it’s dreaded

she is smeared red words unsaid

and without her verbal heartbeat she’s all but dead

she’s all but meat, empty, depleted

the thoughts that she knew

she should have said, retreated

huddling in her mind, the deleted

lying with her in bed, always debating,

crowding in her mouth as she’s hesitating,

the silence fills and the words can’t spill

from her lips, heartbeat slows and

she can’t feel fulfilled until they drip

but still she sits with her mouth zipped

she sits so still. it’s her foremost skill.

she is smeared red words unsaid

and the only thing that drips is shreds of thoughts

from her fingertips, the thread of this trite script

emptying from her mind, she left it behind as she

bled the thoughts that were never heard,

her body dead the moment she swallowed her words.

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