DAy 564: medly

to medleys that taste like one night stands
and women who cant tell the difference
for the space between i love you
and stay away
stay away
there is only pain
and anger
and going back
feels to much like regrets we haven't made yet
so im frozen
in the tracks you made with other bodies
while i watched
shivering in the waiting room
everyone comes here to die or be saved
i came to hide
but you found me anyways
and im trying not to imagine a future with you in it
cuz the space between now and forveer is lined with good intentions and our broken hearts
im sick of the stench
clean enough to crackle
your lips
cold enough to burst
my heart
somewhere left
under the rubble

Day 563: mourning

you leave me burning
breaking
crashing
taking
everything but my skin away
the prides done gone
you leave me
i am left
but you are not right
not anywhere near me
so idk where you find yourself in the mornings
but im sure its not here
not here were you wake

DAy 562:

i do not want your stage
i want you body

Day 561:

my body is broken
an asshole
she called it artist
colored
marked
me a kingdom
kiss me
a soul
love me
into your skin
into your body
body
broken
asshole
feeling
cold
hurting
soft
your lips
are broken
mine are splintered
yours
are lost
somewhere
skinny
and frozen

remember
when its over
you
loved me

and it was hard

Day 560: haiku means nothing in english

you've never looked so
gone. done broken your own heart
cold. wanting. no. one.

Day 559: STanford

stanford is an awesome place
sometimes we find ourselves hard pressed
with a place to call home
i have never had that problem
but those who have
find this silicone bubble more comforting than suffocating
most days i would disagree
luckily our uprooted trees keep us breathing
give us something more than blue skies to marvel at
its hard to complain and be taken seriously when its mid january and you are walking around campus in slippers
but its also hard not to complain
when everything about this place screams final chance
make it work- make it worth something

its hard to break the earge
sometimes to compare yourself
when constaly surrounded by so much obvious painful brilliance
this is not a place for the weak
for those who cannot pick themselves up
from last place

remember always that there are oceans beyond palm drive
anonomous as they may seem
they carry the voices
of worlds that can only be read from tis side of the plastic
there is a hazard in this privily
in tese desires to do more than
has been done
that is the task you have been charged with by coming here
the call you have answered
remember not too forget the sidewalks of shoulders you stand on
no matter how powerful you may feel
you are not flying
someone else is holding you up with their bootstraps
too often are they written on the margins, or never mentioned

above all,
remember,
you were someone before you came here.
this place did not make you.

Day 558: lameeee

when the sky is clear
and you watch the sun fall
there is a green flash
in the moment it sets
my mothers never seen it
i have
she is convinced i created some sort of projection
i guess, some things must be seen to be believed

Day 557: she

the story
will not wait
will not hold you
will not do anything
but make you carry her
into the sunrise
she will not love you
not the way you would need for it to matter
for it to count
there is an affection tat doesnt weigh
dont hold you beautiful
dont want you back
dont shiver when you cry
when you shake
she will not notice
will not reveal
will not find you or the things youve lovked away
under your empty suitcase
still
you are full of lugguage
she will not lift a finger
only watch
as you struggle
to unload her
find the wright in your eels
stand tall
like she may return
but she dont
she wont
you know

Day 556: deja vu

i want you naked
shattered
skinless
i want you weak
beautiful
like
i want you
malleable
to be made perfect
to fit inside of me
like cold air
to be frozen
shut
small enough
to fit in the sole of my shoes
so that i can hold you
forever
in yesterdays that only seem to break

she wont say it
but i know
i know these are the things she hates herself for thinking
that she breaks in feeling
i know,
because
i've tasted the same bitter break
the same kind of need
for power

Day 555: the sun

i've spent the better part of this morning shifting through parts of myself that were left in pieces
usually
in california
during these days
it rains
the cold
has a way of making everything sting a little more
but this warm
this sun
i never thought it would burn
never though it would leave me praying for water to fall from the sky
its 70 degrees in mid january
i haven't warm a jacket during the daytime in weeks
something about this feel disgustingly beautiful
something about your voice
its a miracle in conflict
global warming is alive and well
the scabs on the back of my necks
are burning in your memory

Day 554: definition

"some people think being lonesome
means being free"

you are the space between everything that is good and disaster
the vacuum that promises settle in, in the middle of the night
the shards of glass i've swept beneath my bed
that somehow i find lodged into my heels on mornings when the sun is shining and all i want to do is be happy
you stay
hover
wait
while walking away
a miracle in the physics of your existence
you've created a love that can explode
so i've left my limbs and other parts of myself that i thought i could live without at your doorstep
hoping you'd either return yourself or the parts of me i need to breathe

today we are somewhere in between whole and gone
here and broken
healed and fractioned
none of the definitions make sense
you are not meant to hold this kind of horror
i am meant to be more
than
just a memory

Day 553:hidden

where are all the promises you made
while i slept in your skin
the things we didnt need to say
but said anyways
where'd you hide them
i've been wondering

Day 552: SWR

they are songs that leave scars behind
voices that fund their way
under you skin
into your gums
crawl there
make you remember
you hear them in the dark and cannot forget why you loved
why you were loved
in the moments between sobriety and blackout
where you find yourself most at home
within the arms of people you barely know but would do run a thousand miles for
it is in these moments
that i know
i have made all the right choices
and all my life i will be trying
to find this joy
again

Day 551: Safia

we spend most of the time that we converse caking.
but the truth is- there is not a woman in this world who terrifies me like you do-
you have the power to trun me inside out and leave me dry-
and every day that you love me instead i feel the pain of the ocean between us.
i cannot think of a time when i've been near you that my body hasnt shook from the inside out.
you leave something there after the waters that follow your breath come through.
i want to someday be the kind of woman that is not afraid of the fall after the leap-
i remember when i could say that were true for me.
today is not that day.
tomorrow, it may be too late.

Day 550: Angela

i compare the strength of every woman i meet to the conviction in your smile.
no one has yet left a mark on my like you have and continue to do every day.
somedays, when i think of you i worry that too much of your power might make me explode.
i do not know how to hold your energy and return something worth while.
i am trying to find a way to be the woman you see or have seen.
help me.

DAy 549: Murk

i know that i have become an inconsistent, unsupportive force in your life.
i wake up remembering the kind of woman i used to be and cry for the distance i've found between that woman and the person i am today.
i am selfish and quiet
you deserve more than what i know how to give right now.
but everything comes in phases- some day,
i will give you more than either of us should ever ask for.

Day 548: Kaylah

i spend every morning wishing that i tried as hard as you do.
i was to try to understand my heart and the world i live in.
i want to try to understand affirmation and love.
i want to try to open this spirit again.
but right now i do not try.
i hope that changes cuz while thats been the case i've felt infinitely far away from your energy.

Day 547: for asha

i think of you often.
on the nights i cannot sleep-
i remind myself what is it like to breathe easy and hold a miracle between my palms.
you are a storm that is welcome at any hour in my heart.
a wind i have missed in ways more than i can say

Day 546: for the woman who waits- but shouldnt

for the last two years
i've spent my mornings
and evenings
the parts of my days
when i am nearest
to god
and sleep
thinking about the way your skin seems to cut through gravity
writing poems for the scars i left on the inside of your lips
from attaching too much
too heavy
the parts of myself that i should have left at my sides
i forced into your pores
hoping
that way
you wouldn't be able to leave me behind

lately
i spend my mornings
wishing that meditation
felt anything like the back of your neck
instead
it feels more like patience
and the words i somehow plucked from my vocal chords while we kissed
the things i should miss
but dont
not yet

tomorrow i want to dream of your kiss
how it cuts through my skin
makes me wonder
how it is you fly
and when
when will you be coming back home
to me

Day 545: melloncolly sounds like it should be a happy word

"remind me why
i even bothered
to love you
in the first
place"
when i could feel myself breaking in the breath between our touch
how i knew
no one
would tie puppet strings as tight as you may
how you'd hold me under your skin
telling me
this is love
when i knew
that is
this is drowning
that i'd sink into you like molasses
and beg to be held there
suffocating
and you'd tell me to leave
but not make me

day 544:

you slip under my tongue
like sickness
sorry for its appearance
make me wish
i could write you out of my memory sometimes
i will not wiat for you to love me properly
it either happens or it doesn't
you either love me or you dont
im either write or im wrong
we cannot be in between
nothing fit there
not even air
not even
an apology

Day 543: too late

tonight is not the right time
but tomorrow,
tomorrow will be too late

DAy 542:

split me into shards soft enough to be called skin
to be strung about your body
so that when the night comes
and you are left
looking for someone warm to hold
i will be there
broken into as many pieces you need to be beautiful
to be worth holding on to
to be more than just a tomorrow
and a maybe
but a now and something real
that cannot be risked
if you love something set it free
but dont make it leave
there is no point to the safe boats we've left in our harbors
the oceans between us
will drown our hearts
eventually

Day 541: i hate titles

i want you
to remember me as a time of day
a season of your year
of the things that change
grow cold
and warm again
like your love
your heart
everything you promised to give
but decided against in the end

Day 540:

i've decided
your silence
is a broken mirror
something unlucky
and beautiful
still distorted
something i cannot understand
the way i wish to

i deleted your phone number
knowing
how easily it could be found
somewhere else
didnt have the heart to tell you
that i spent hours hovering over
goodbye letters and actions
things that would put oceans between us here
not that we ever needed the pacific to show us where our cracks are
how broken we seem at dusk
when the sunset shines through us
so beautiful still
in the morning
when we've forgotten the way home
remembered returning was the better thing to do
but forgot anyways

i dont have the energy to finish this now.
fail fail fail

Day 539: cocoon

You are the kind of woman who leaves something behind
Last night
It was two tracks pinned into my intestines
A freight train
Burning through the nights
Butterflies
Forced back into cocoons
A painful process I promise you
nothing as beautiful as a butterfly ever wants to be ordinary again
thats whats you've made me
pulled me out of my casing ready to reach the world
show them
screaming
look
this
this is what my love calls beautiful
i am something to marvel at
but tonight
i am burnt pieces of an old fire you've forgotten
i am rust on the chain on your bicycle
something you know myst be there
only from the screams it creates at your ankles
from the way it makes you rattle
it is not something you remember where curled to a warm body
and its snowing outside
not something you remember when you're lis are wet and ready
beautiful,
some things are better left ordinary
they cannot be shoved back into place
when you are finished
i am too big for the whole you caressed me out of
and now
have troubler finding a warm home of my own
something comfortable
that doesnt feel like breaking


tomorrow will be different
thats the only promise i ever make
the only one that can ever be true and lie at the same time
whats the same is that
i'm still broken and shattering
and burning
forgotten
almost
a watermark on the corner of your new smiles and pictures
of lovers
one nights stands
that dont mean anything
but more than me
how wrong that sounds
especially when its right out of your mouth
im not sure what tomorrow will be but tonight
Tonight
will be the spiders
Some will find their way to nest here
Make a home
Build something under my skin
In my bones
I will wake to their wispers
Wondering where you’ve gone since our last kiss
And where you lips may be tomorrow
Perched aggaisnt who’s dreams
Spilling love into whose skin
These are the question and fear
You leave behind in the darkness
I find them
Only when I am weak
And screaming for answers
To a you
that does not reply
Cuz its late
And the trains
Gone
Only done left its ash behind

Somehow it still burns with the lights off
it still hurts
with my eyes closed

Day 538:

your lips are still soft
as if you've been waiting, if
only that could be

Day 537: brittle

prompt:
write your life story in 250 words or less.
then write it in a sentence
then in a word

1.

I am born to a family that recognizes the prophecy of a name- mine speaks of music. When I am 6 my brother tells me I was born with a penis- I am too afraid to ask my parents for fear they will confirm this. I watch Oprah and cry at the other misunderstood transgendered children. When I am 12 I learn to read and write in English- the same year I realize I am half white. I hate my mother for it. When I am 13 and get my period, I learn that I am a woman. I do not know what this means except that I am not like the confused kids on TV. I am different. So I spend the next 5 years finding a new way to fit into this skin. When I am 17- the doctors tell me I have the joints of an 80 year old woman. I am brittle. I will have known this since birth. When I am 19, I meet the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. My parents love her. Her parents tolerate me. We break up. My parents cry. Her’s are silent. We fall somewhere in between. I cry on my 20th birthday and for the first time in over a year I do not write a poem. When I am ready, I will travel the world writing songs for beautiful women. And When I die, I will be younger than they expected. I will remember the names of all of my gods. I will write each of them a poem- realizing I should have done that all along.


2.
I am born, half white-brittle-and woman, constantly looking for a more comfortable way to fit into this skin while writing poems to gods I’ve forgotten the names of.


3.
Brittle.

Day 536: ill take it

( stream of consciousness)

i deal with the consequences
cuz the butterflies that only come back to life when you touch me
do what they can to
rip the train tracks
running on the bottom of my stomach
make it feel like
a heart could find a home somewhere in my chest again
that laughter
laughter is organic
and possible
and that love
love is something that never leaves the body
you never left my body
i can pretend
in the moment
we are smiling and laughing
and holding eachother
that everything will be alright
that you are feeling the same things i am
that you might still want me
in the end
its worth it
even if that means ill spend the rest of this night screaming to anything in this room that with listen
i know this is something you remember
and im hoping if the last time we played this game brought us together
even just for a moment
that it might do it again
these are the chances i leave to play on the tip of your tongue

i think you do the same
or i pretend
to feel it in your heartbeat
when you accidentally let me close enough to your skin
can taste it on the inside of your lips
you dare not to kiss me
but i dare to defy
baby,
somethings gotta get rid of the centipedes that crawl on my skin when i try to sleep
the ones that whisper secrets through stories
i wish i never read
the words repeat
like venom
make me ashamed of my own thoughts and heart

the hard part now is,
i do not understand
how you could disconnect yourself long enough to do what you did
but not long enough to hold me until the sunrise
until the tears dry
to kiss them away like you are supposed to
like its healthy
the lines you've draw over your mistakes dont make much sense
but we never made much either
but we could make love over this mess
call it a tragic masterpiece
people would stare
call it a disaster
but be so jealous
of everything we dared to make in destruction
know, that they will write tales of the journeys we took trying to find home in each others hearts- even when we failed to build them in stone

i guess
this is the best i can get

ill take it

Day 535: to a beat

we all love to love
nobody loves to stay
we just loving to leave
thinking we're one and the same
she caught me playin the games
i found her doing the same
we work ourself round and round
finding that nothing has changed
so give me something to say
shits backwards, now who's to blame
i flew home solo today
wishing she'd let me stay
tell me why upside downs right
im standing upright, its wrong
shes got a smile
its tight
hoping its not like this long

im learning quickly through love
that hates an easier thing
shell break my heart yeah it hurts
but hey, i did it first
im pounding pavement like grass
smoking myself into ash
turning love inside out
finding its not meant to last

more hurt than surprised
learning to believe the lies
turn novels into a tale
turn ourselves inward, disguised
now which way do you turn
whats the lesson to learn
we all are loving to love
but what is love, when it burns

Day 534: catch, or dont

I am the catch
everyone loves to love
but no body keeps
we were always taught to throw the special ones back to the sea.

happy 2011 folks.
to be honest i dont feel much like writing.