Rise

I am free of you
as my flesh folds and knits
together over my bones,
red blood pounding,
a soft, shaky laugh escaping
as I slowly unfurl myself
and rise.

I am finally finished.

the way down

puncture this.
peel back the lashes of my eyes,
carve clean the lines of my bones
as i lay back in ectasy,
fingers crossed, hoping
that in the end you'll drain me
free of all my tears.

i hope it hurts
on the way down.

fly

fly
and rid ourselves of pain
grow soft
and feel the breaking of bones
tearing of flesh
relax
lean back and drink
the constant falling of rain
before we drown
so fly
high
until we are without direction
lost within this state of being
not fully whole
neither empty though
fly
as far as you can go
moving within circles
yet always leaving
fly away
from me
from here
from everything, until you can go no more

walk
for now your wings are shredded
broken
blistered
walk
for now you can fly no more

Fall

06/09/12

I want to fall,
unbuckle my arms,
stretch out my fingers,
and feel my bones snap against the wind
as I become elastic, sinking
downwards beneath the bruised
undersides of my eyelids,
heavy with the tears I haven't managed
to shed yet.
But I'm scared to saying this,
spreading voice to these desires,
afraid that if you get in the way
I'll grab hold
and I can't ask you, I can't
ask you the burden
of catching me.
Not when I don't know how far
I have to fall.

That Night

What if I could taste

the broken memories of that night

against my tongue,

sticking to the roof of my mouth,

fighting the forbidden desire

to swallow,

to assimilate you

within me,

buried within the squirming

silence of desire,

swallowing with a gulp

the fantasy you've brought

the dreams you've played,

spun around my neck,

designed in the wish to garrot,

replacing all my fantasies

with your reality,

crying, sobbing,

crawling through the sheets

and falling off the bed

with a clatter of bones

as they break

all connections between...

organic

for my college professor.

there are these moments
when I'm left with nothing
but a white haze that slowly
clouds through my brain
in an attempt to rid myself
of your voice in my head.
for it's been eight months
and I can't quite let this anger
dissolve along my bones
and wash away into the fresh grass
of summer, my legs
cross into the sky and this page
still blank of all the empty words
forming in the base of my mouth,
my tongue dry against my teeth
in the silence I carried all year
around you.
because I had given up waiting
for this to get better
and am still trying to slowly rebuild,
to strip away the embellishments
and go back to my foundation
before I let you touch my writing
and imprint your voice,
your rhythm, your structure
and design over mine
in an unconscious attempt to please you
and your anger and disappointment
even though I could never have controlled
the outcome of your moods.
because I want to go back to when
this was all organic, uncontrolled
in an all consuming spiral of words,
the pages of my notebooks sticky and matted
with blood, flowers and molted
with colours against the damp of my tongue
licking the ink from the tip of my pen,
with poetry as my lover,
stripped naked to the core of my words
and my voice scratched raw across the page.
there is no need for your words here.

Broken Rails

Soft tick.

Deep thunk

ringing through the cells.

You can hear the drip drop

of the blood

falling to the floor

and sticking.

It's not like you'll get rid of me soon.

Crack of the eggs

and the shredding of the bones.

Catch me

as I go sliding down the rail

and into your arms,

dragging you down with me,

off the road and onto

the broken tracks.

There's a train coming

with a broken wheel, 

barreling down the tracks.

I want to be with you

and hear you scream

when it happens...