Dear Alexi ( Read more... )

Every time I read Bret Easton Ellis I get cold and start to feel like I'm wasted on coke and valium, and I can't feel anything except a dull ache behind my ribs.

A first for everything-

no more weightless things.

My heart is strong and set and solid,
it carries water and chops wood

(and it's alright that you can't yet
say it back because I know that when
or if you do you will, will mean it).

1. The dialog
2. The summer smog
3. The turning cog

We repeat and go on

(When I cut your hair and left the birds all of the trimmin's
I was the happiest woman of all women).

Pockets fill with cigarette ends,
who knows when it started- the need
to flick off the ember and carry the filter.

A habit that can't be broken like the way
we find ourselves saying "thank you" when someone says thank you ( Read more... )

Because it was always your drinking that bothered me ( Read more... )

Bird and bear fell together in the month of May ( Read more... )

I want you to kidnap me ( Read more... )

Radio silence.
Static and distance.
April's cold shoulder.

An amicable parting
(my not so subtle distancing),
the boy tells me I am amazing-
I reply 'no, I am an asshole.'
We cannot agree on the matter.