Saturday, March 01, 2014

There are things I want dead in my life.

There are three candles; one of them has gone out. 


I had a dream that you loved me because I was a ballerina.
That there were glasses of wine on the floorboards and I took a glass on my way down.
There was a girl critiquing black irises and adding pearls for depth and layer.
There was a girl upset over a lost wedding ring she claimed was stolen.
I had a dream I took your hand and lead you down between the floorboards. 
I had a dream I was a ballerina. 
I was thin and wearing blue and you grabbed my waist. 
You wouldn't stop talking. 
The girl with the ring wouldn't stop talking, or the girls about the irises. 
No one could stop talking. 

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

People will talk to you if you are a pretty girl alone at a bar.

I became aware of the shape of my kneecap the third drink in. When I stand up I will be drunk. I will use my newly discovered joint to move the rest of my body out the door into the oddly frigid LA air. I will smoke the remainder of a cigarette I rolled earlier. 
I will meet someone I know I've met before who is drunk and kinda sad but still fun and aware of himself. We will know some of the same people if we talk long enough. 

for the sake of secrets

I want to give you all of this if you just take the time to give to it

I don't have things you want to see
I have secrets hidden under my skirt
I have broken bits left on the floor 
no one careful enough to sweep them up
they'll stick in your feet
Unmeasurable slivers 
that embed themselves into your flesh that the body then attempts to reject 
with a throbbing 
feeling like a bruise 
You leave me with an itch 
You bow and smile and only we know what the other prays for
your touch is so far away
we brush by one another
we catch each others eyes and I want to rip them from your head so you can't ever look at me like that again 
you would still with empty sockets 
because when some things are born they are given a life beyond their bearers that lives on so strongly without their presence 
for the sake of secrets


I am leaving flakes of skin everywhere hoping that its enough.

things happen to people
and they go away
things happen 
old shapes die
circles are pressed into ovals and wobble instead of rolling sweetly along 

you can't live in the past 
although there is no denying what the past has made you- your past is something maybe you can't live in, 
but you live with forever

the past has left me crippled 

things happen to people

they go away

Sometimes I think we have forgotten what love is.

it's thought to be something you seek or obtain or yearn for or live without or are void of or overflow with or need or want or have or don't or feel or see... something that is lost or taken or given...

these are ways we complicate simple things like love

No, love is like silence.
Love is like breath.
Love is a bowl movement.
Love is a hiccup.
Love is like waking up.
Love is the grey hues of night 
Love is a blur
Love is the space between two objects

It is something that simply is and always will be.
It's just there.

Don't complicate it.

My hair, the flakes of skin
they are the same as love 
anywhere I have been they are left behind
everyone leaves skin and hair all over everything. 

Monday, February 03, 2014


Don't let anyone in
Don't let them touch you
Don't let them look at you
Don't expose any part of yourself

Be the lone tree on a hill
As the sun sets; a silhouette 
Be a mother bear defending your feelings as cubs 
To roll and tumble careless in the sun under the sky with leaves 
Be the baby cub who knows its protected dancing wildly
Be the silence, in its patience and wisdom
A mouse with quick tiny eyes that is hard to catch
Be the beauty in stone seen through water; the light that reflects when you move your eyes

These are things to remember 
Because these times are different 
Very few in fact deserve you
As always, give kindness freely
But do not give away your kind as freely 
You are precious 

Wednesday, January 08, 2014


Hearts beat
For as long as they want

Hearts belong
To no one but themselves

Thursday, January 02, 2014


The paper golden hats lay down
on the moist and stained old floor
the noise makers and buzzer whistles
have been discarded 'neath the tables
the street girls are at the bar
waiting for the good boys to give up
and find a value to the object
the band has been gone for hours
the cocktail waitresses
are staggering and tired
grinding out some rent money
the frat boys have lost the bets all night
so they keep plugging at the tables
in desperation
the girls, in their thigh high little dresses,
are wobbling through the casino
their makeup has melded with sweat
turning the canvas of their faces
into a melted wax portrait type of feel
the dealers are yawning
the pit bosses sigh
as the house counts the take
and rings in the new day
with a parade of security personnel
marching through the room
like a lethargic uniformed army
walking heavy upon a conquered land

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

there is no pain

I am asleep between a man and his dog
I am trying to sleep between a man and his dog 
Everything around me is heavy
The man and his dog
I want to scream
I think about screaming in a house alone
I'm puking a little in my mouth
Everything is heavy
I feel sick
I think about the pain I'm in and the pain I'll wake up to.
I'm in pain. 
I'm tired and can't sleep.
I think of a dream I had years or months ago in the trees 
I think of the pain that doesn't exist in my dreams
I think of how much more real those dreams feel then this 
I wonder if its the same
For you.
For everyone I love.
I think about the trees and the home I created there 
I think it will put me to sleep
But what puts me to sleep here is the typing of these words into my phone 
Which only knows about my dreams because I leave them there maybe someone will find them when I am dead from finally being so very tired of the pain
Maybe I will end up in the trees where I fly between in these dreams and there is no pain.
I think about a house that is empty where I can scream.
I think I'm screaming because of the pain. 
I wish I wasn't in pain.
I am young still not even 30 and maintaining this body is painful and u don't pay it enough attention.... I need to work for it if I want to not be in pain so much but really part of me is just trying not to scream because of the pain the whole time I am not dreaming. Is that a way to live? I don't know. Are you in pain? Does it hurt as much as I do? Or more? Do you want to scream all the time like I do? I want to scream for a really long time until it makes me fall asleep. It doesn't hurt as much when I am asleep. 
Every time you see me I am always screaming inside. 

Sunday, September 15, 2013

notes I write on my phone in delirious states (NYC 2012, two days before the new year)

A 40 something$ cab ride to where the fuck am I 

The man who honks
The snow on the brownstones
The A train waiting 
Missed connections
Giving up/giving in
Dramatic expansion
Present heart
Bleeding gold/currency 
Chasing the party
Wicked and assisted release 
Brain worms
Rolled cigarettes with frozen fingers
Shaking a little

One note one sound making one million people feel exactly the same way
Bottling energy
Sonic power/energy

We are flying to misty island
I'm sliding down
You're new and beautiful you know that
I need to experience you, 
I need to experience all of this
It'll all be fine I promise

Sometimes I feel what seems to be the sadness of the entire world

Well they got you by the neck 
cause they dont want you
Running away with that dagger mouth 
All twisting the stories around
To suit your pleasures

My heart beats so rapidly while I am sleeping 
Out of body dreaming

I see you've parked the car on the lawn again

You found a way to run

The train again, still waiting