raison d'etre

Shoot

me

or 

yourself

to save

this little oily hell

with your sticky smell

and your

swell

well

alright

way of saying goodnight

to sleep tight

on the mattress

where you met me

and forgot me

and lost me all over again

and again

and you’re shouting

amen 

to pretend

that you’re praying at all

cuz the fall

after all

is eternally worth it

so i guess we’ll endure it

and float

in a cloud

or a boat

if that’s allowed

and stare at the naked girls hotter than me

who all could give you quite a lot more than me 

parce que my french is shitty

but you’re my raison d’être 

Baise-moi

if you’re in the mood

but my little fucking heart

can’t really start 

bearing this menage a trois relationship

bullshit

kissing me and missing her

and pretending we 

never were

you’ve got my feelings twirling

like a ballerina

who dropped acid during swan lake

and fell into the orchestra pit

and staked

herself 

naked 

on the accordion’s music stand

and bled until her tutu was gauze

be-caaaaaauze

you just wanna live 2 years behind 

and, sweetheart, you’re blowing my mind. 

Either tell me that you’re holding my hand

or tell me that you’re not. 

Either want me to kiss you every :27

or tell me that you don’t. 

Either say to me “hey we should be” 

or give me the trigger to the shot. 

if you’re feeling poetic 

you should’ve just left it

well enough

all alone

or let me build 

(in your hands)

a little home 

where we can be

all alone

together. 

Drop the Pin

I wrote something about your mind

And I told you that you look awful nice in peach

and that the sand on your shoes wouldn't help 

climbing up the rocks from the shore

anymore

But I deleted it all because your angel was even more beautiful in my words than she is in your eyes

Also because my tongue is getting tired

of hating the way that I am telling my heart

to keep on chugging

and plugging

and giving the break

to take

or make

another choice for your team or mine

again.

So despite everyone's warnings about the ways

of your 

nuances

I'm going to keep on wishing forever that your breath was underneath my teeth and that my words were on your tongue the way that my words are inked into my skin. 

And despite the fact that you don't think i know you at all

and that

you couldn't tell my right from my left

I realize that maybe it's just the fact that I'm always lost. 

I really must have terrible directionality

because I just can't get into your heart

Yellow

You earnestly encompassed my flowerpots and hugged the hemlock like another mother smothering the wind again. 

Threesomes that I missed when you were calculating the exchange rates for your final runaway attempt, humming honey bee and cherry bomb to yourself, hitchhiking in your mind in order to find a tragedy to rectify the disclosure. 

"Don't you dare say what when I say fuck me" and leave the money on the doormat when you pay for finishing first. 

I love your future like a child and your past like a morning fog bank. 

you read

bon matin

my heartbeat is resting next to yours, so calm on down and i'll get some sleep 

When you called to wish me happy valentines day, we opened up the camera to see your face. 

I was bouncing in the back just trying to say "fuck you"

And she fell to her knees and said "fuck me" 

And she looked into your eyes and she said "fuck off" 

And when you hung up in black licorice, you said "fuck it" 

But still. Even when you're far away, you've got me thinking "wish you were here." Bravo 

If you never knew my name

I get scared people will do what I think and then they think that I do what they're doing and then I'm remembering that I think about my doings less than thinkers who let their thinkings start their doings and my doings stop mattering and your thinkings are all I wonder about and we're thinking and doing too far apart and you forgot and I remembered.

And then we both walked on.

xanax for the realist

Nothing can be solved.
Just write dope poetry and drink.
Keep eating your lolipops like they're nutritional and dye your tongue bluer than before.
Schedule in time for you to slap yourself in the face for caring.


You could've made a better choice when you were four and decided to be an astronaut instead of a princess. It would've been more realistic.
Maybe you would've made it instead of sitting at 44 without a person who gives a fuck that you are breathing and a bottle of cognac and a whole bottle of pills which you're taking all at once to give you a quick dose of death.

Goodnight.