hair

a tickle beneath my tongue,
not a taste but a texture.
A long tether between my teeth;
I reach for its origin,
but only trace saliva and torture,
for an itch I cannot reach.

I unhinge my jaw,
my mandibles parting
with the movement of Moses,
and the fleshy Red Sea of my swallows
is revealed to the foreign touch
of my blind fingertips,
feeling for the strange, invisible string
that strangles me.

But there is no bite
from the bait that taunts me.
Its elusive body is woven
within the womb of my gums,
burrowing into wisdom tooth sockets—
a secret known to nobody,
not even me.

My tonsils tease
by sending stimuli
for an itch I cannot scratch.
And for what I cannot grasp,
I have learned to release
all of the torturous strands
that form a noose around me.

In the pool of vomit,
brunette curls swim in spirals,
braiding themselves into bunches
like a bouquet of bile,
reminding me of my own twine,
dead once departing
from the scalp, though
never degraded over time.

slow burn

my hand rests beneath my nose 

i can smell cigarette smoke 

lodged beneath my press on nails

and i think of you 

i let my fingers drift down my cupids bow 

and I crave you more 

i waited for you to kiss me, but you handed me a cigarette instead.

a tender gesture 

more romantic than touch-

I never knew nicotine 

to be as enchanting as lust

forget the cigarette

the lighter and the buzz

and share your exhale with mine.

addiction on my lips

let our breaths intertwine

feel our ribs bump 

while I inhale you inside 

let me comfort your coughs

and warm your lungs 

with laughter and love 

as i flicked out my second cigarette 

clarity found me 

approaching the bud  

that I cannot continue 

an addiction 

under the fantasy of love 

what didn’t last in the past 

was as quick to light 

as it was to throw away, 

i thank you under my breath

i think i prefer this slow burn anyway.

naked

i go out looking for love 

naked and alone.

looking for someone to 

lull the comfort 

of my breaking bones. 

perhaps that is why 

it is so easy to leave me

they grow tired of my entirety

my soft 

flesh 

my gentle 

soul 

my fertile

mind

they feel fragmented 

while witnessing me full 

a shame they feel 

and force 

for which 

I do not care for 

but

time will pass 

and new people will love me

i will regain my novelty.

To the naked eye 

i am clothed 

and all of my curious doors 

are closed.

if i must remain a mystery 

to be loved without misery

Then I pull down my sleeves 

and hide the heart 

that humiliates me. 

adjacent lover

all of the woman who are poisoned by your print 

declare their love for me

with sapphic intent 

i feel their charged eyes 

pausing on me like prey 

prepared to pick me apart 

and place their pain

paranoia consumes me, 

but i am flattered in a way? 

that she imagine your touch 

being contagious with gold:

though her lust of me is 

from our shared stains

and strings that you pulled 

she imagines me writing poems and crying alone 

puzzled by my processing 

enchanted to crack my skull open as if there is something she doesn’t quite know 

Ode to my adjacent lover,

we can cut the man 

out of the middle 

and i could suck his venom

from your lips 

little by little 

but that is an old taste 

my pallet has outgrown 

i spit out our last kiss 

licking the envelope before sending you home

no saliva remains to entertain 

all of the demented derivatives 

of women possessing your pain

eden

Those who curse the negligence of Eve

Have never felt starvation’s 

Convincing disease

Of the desperation that makes us hopelessly reach

For those forbidden fruits

We have sworn not to eat

On the day of creation we were theoretically whole

wandering God’s grocery store with our baskets full

And you of ruby ripe flesh

Dangled from the top branch pulsating and swole 

Daunting me to exchange my spotless soul

But then I was able to walk away

Satisfied with the love that would nourish and stay

Though it did not stop my mind from obsessing over that temptatious day

In my mind I prayed to keep my fantasies at bay

I began to imagine your flesh between my teeth

Enchanted by the lust 

Of empty calories

How your core would be euphorically sweet

As if it was your elusivity I could consume and eat

Soon God’s image no longer reflected mine

I could feel the mirror distort and twist with the entanglement of time

And I could no longer convince myself of this holy lie

Hope had escaped me

And I found myself reaching high

Your soft body rested in my palm 

before I plucked you into my possession 

And with the fatal snap of your stem

I was consumed by obsession 

In my fallen state of grace

My gluttonous impulse pulls you toward my face

And as my canines dissected your crisp base

I felt the guilty release of God’s suffocating embrace

forgotten

How many names are written on bricks?

Or park benches, dedicated in the name of bird shit and piss? 

You beg to be remembered 

to be the best and oh so clever! 

clinging to the idea of recognition and fame 

praying that they will remember ur name 

i find it foolish and funny 

that with the donation of a little money 

your name plastered on walls in halls

will resonate any more meaning 

than strangers curiously leaning 

only to forget seconds after- 

living their life empty of your laughter 

passenger princess

sitting in the car side by side 

your hand interlocked in mine

left hand steering as we drive 

the dangers of drunk driving do not compare 

to when your fingers run thru my hair 

hands on my thighs, skin so bare

eyes on the road i say

but given a red light or any delay,

your lips are on mine to stay

no need for talk, the quiet is calm

there is peace as my fingers dance in ur palm

ETA whispers we are almost home

but in the car i could sit forever 

something mundane alone becomes an exciting endeavor

moving thru time

side by side together

doormat

maybe I’m a masochist 

or I’ve taught myself to enjoy the pain

but I wear the title of a doormat

as if it’s my middle name 

stranger’s steps carry all sorts of dirt 

and i politely lay,

collecting all of the hurt 

i begin to question the origins of my accumulated filth

if i had never offered, then I wouldn’t carry this guilt 

But I have “welcome” plastered on my face 

inviting lost soldiers,

a quieting and comforting place 

but just as the doormat exists, 

outside of the home.

Never welcomed in, 

nor shown the same love.

mothers makeup

enchantment meets my skin 

as the tip of the eyeliner grazes my lid

i am possessed by feline grace 

as my wrists flick a cat eye across my face 

glitter engulfs my eyes 

chunky flakes and shards of shimmer cloud my vision 

I scrunch my eyes into their sockets 

and regain my precision 

my prepubescent skin stretches against my skull

pore-less and pure 

i slather a mystical mask of tints cremes

in an effort to look more mature 

though my uterus has been spared by the eclipse of the moon 

i stare into the mirror 

and pray for womanhood to begin soon 

i dance in my mothers oversized dresses

and relish in the chaos of my eldest sister’s closet messes 

i patiently sit in awe 

waiting for my hips to widen 

and my breasts to ripen 

to reveal the vessel of spontaneous life 

where in my femininity I am  ubiquitous and divine 

connected with every sprouting beauty 

where in my fertility i embody a world that is truly mine.

birth through blood

there is broken glass scattered across the kitchen floor

and i am roaring laughing 

while blood from my hands begins to pour.

The shards protrude from my weary wrists 

and sweet red regret 

drips down my fingertips 

every chance I try to pick up the the jagged shards

my soft flesh rips, 

as I let down my guard.

and I never imagined healing would be so hard. 

I begin to finger paint with my blood across the walls. 

painting murals of my pain,

by telling stories across the hall.

I have created a mad house where I can process it all. 

Hemmingway whispers, 

"just sit in front of the typewriter and bleed"

and I am reminded of how heartbreak births new things.

Each sharp cut reveals emotional ink,

where I can process my feelings through art 

rather than continuing to sink. 

With every stroke of crimson pain, I carve a path to clarity.

And by the time it is all out of me,

my iron levels are low.

and though my anemic answers,

I am able to sweep away the glass

and continue to grow. 

pretty pollen

During my recess days,

I would plot my one free hour to frolic and play.

Delicate it to the large field of flowers that festered;

and all the creatures that crawled and flied in unity together.

I wanted to be all with one,

soaked in grass stains and rays of the sun.

Out of all of the choices of candied blossoms, I chose:

the enthusiastic yellow that incited my eye the most.

A dandelion was a weed to many-but I embraced it with grace. 

I played in its chalky pollen and smeared its yellow on my face.

It’s buttery gloss stained my fragile cheeks, 

while I laid in the grass and communicated with the meek.

The bees, butterflies and beetles that slowly creeped close,

whispered sweet secrets of a world I wanted most.

Where I could be small forever and free to roam.

Underneath the paint of pollen, 

these friends helped me feel less alone. 

That was until the day I got stung, 

brutal and between the eyes, no remorse for what it had done.

And by that point, the dandelions had began to turn gray.

The once naive floral facade, 

had matured into a ghost meant to be blown away.

And as I held onto the fragile stem, 

wishing for the next season to blossom again. 

I inhaled a breath from a source deep within,

and let my exhale carry seeds of strength to begin again.  

I give my gullibility grace,

Aware of the countless times I have been stung in the face. 

I do not blame my intrinsic need,

to bask in pollen and slurp nectar so sweet. 

To love what feels good and to embrace the unknown,

I trust in mother nature’s fluctuation and flow. 

What is painful is temporary, and what is good will only grow. 

wishbone

Tic-tac toe, and rock paper scissors

Silly games with only one winner

the illusion of strategy and the glory of a win

I prefer to lose before the game can begin

I think of myself as a wishbone

Delicate ivory waiting to be broken

A memoir of words prepared to be spoken

Ready to give you the larger half 

Before you even had the chance to ask.

To rip apart my bones 

What’s a missing rib from Adam’s home?

I wonder who I am beyond my acts of servitude

Selfishly waiting for a drop of gratitude

For the way I bend and contort

To comfort your world from any hurt

Yet I fall into the hands of those,

Who lavish the sound of snapping of bones,

Those who know my game 

And eagerly play all the same,

Aware of how weakly I grasp my bone

As they break the brittle, and take their winning prize home.

gentle lamb

your soft curls were sheepish

how they delicately kissed the brim of your temple 

and matted down toward the back of your neck 

i was your foolish shepherd 

guiding you toward greener pastures 

where i knew you could frolic 

and would be safe from capture 

you pulled your wool over my eyes,

before emerging from the carcass of gentle cloud-

revealing fangs of a wolf

with an empty bloodlust so loud

you ripped me apart out in that field 

with no regret or remorse- 

laughing at my gullibility

while tearing apart my corpse

and as I lay there bleeding,

slaughtered for sport and play-

he wipes he lips,

and rezips his delicate disguise.

he begins to hunt down another heart

ripe enough to believe his lies.

hey girly text

hey girly 

i don’t know you, 

and you don’t know me,

but let me tell you- 

your love cannot untwist that crooked tree.

It’s leaves are dead

and it’s bark is rotten to its core 

no matter the love and nutrients you feed it, 

it will always beg for more. 

you say the dark never scared you,

because you grew up in that same festering wood, 

creating love for the broken,

and the inclination toward good.

At the tree roots base,

You lie there in gushing gold,

glowing with Sacred Grace,

satisfied with being alone-

thinking maybe if you shine bright enough you could guide your lost knight home.

You must abandon this enchantment,

of fixing what you did not break.

Love that tree from afar,

by letting it devilishly twist

and take its true shape.

the chase

i have always been the boy to crave the chase- 

the thrill of seeking 

as winds of adventure brush my face.

i love the illusions of holding you close-

dreams don’t hurt 

the theoretical always pleases the most.

close contact burns my skin 

and open wounds ache 

when intimacy is rubbed in.

adrenaline pumps through me as i hunt 

but the rush dissipates 

when i get what i want.

reciprocated affection doesn’t seem right 

a flaw within my partner 

so i decide to take flight. 

now i am the one who runs 

for no apparent reason,

except for

the impending fear

of being pinned down by my own heartless treason. 

meat

My body has been grinded down into chunks of meat by the minds of men

Separated and distributed to those with preferences

Of breast or leg , flank or rib, all ultimately the same

They honor a single quality with gluttonous lust

whilst wasting the rest

Scraping peripheral qualities of me off the the edges of their plate

To focus on the main course they reserved

I do not fight their salivating gaze of hunger

Because once I am meat to them I am already dead

I have no other purpose than to be served 

Waiting to fulfill a longing and be fully tasted

Accepting that I am ultimately bound by man to be wasted.

my bloody valentine

for you i would rip open my rib cage 

and kindly invite you in 

to drink my blood and feed upon my flesh

take it all, i really dont mind

It’s a bloody Valentine 

I consensually sign and lick the envelope 

kissing it’s seal addressed to your selfishness

it’s a sick symbiosis we share

seeking feeling in immediate hurt

you like to give it, where i crave to absorb it all. 

you are the hot stove 

i am so curious to touch 

to feel the delicacy of mirrored warmth

i have been craving so much

lover

is that your heartbeat or mine?

skin so close our senses intertwine 

as your fingers delicately trace my spine 

the silence doesn’t bother me at all

i hear your breaths as your chest rises then falls

the dialogue in your diaphragm calls 

in this moment i feel complete 

the tension between when our lips meet

as we swim in the pool of our body heat 

our eyes lock and our souls connect 

no spot of skin do you neglect 

a gentle love bred by respect 

you hold me with shameless embrace 

cheeks flush as you grasp my face

dissolved are the boundaries of space  

if i could

honey glazed skin, slightly sun kissed 

sticky contact, i sink into bliss 

i curse this barrier, i want the abyss

if i could, id unzip you at the spine 

crawl in, and mesh your soul with mine 

at last, forever intertwined.

if i could, id crack open your skull

dig through, your worries, fears and all

stitch you up, with only happiness to recall

if i could, id slip into your skin 

become your armor, nothing bad to come in

protect my love, is that a sin? 

girlhood

i hate the way my skin feels against my clothes 

feminine fabric and secret oaths 

like wearing lacy thongs

pink paranoia that only i know.

the male gaze has no eyelids

it never blinks or sleeps 

it knows my skin and loves to creep.

undressing in the bathroom mirror 

feels like a performance

to all the voices i hold dear

words that kiss away my questions  

and make me feel real

my worth intertwined with sex appeal.

oh to cut the cameras

and to see myself as more 

anything but to be trapped in this girlhood chore.