Lack of Decorum
Can’t you see that every word you let fall from your lips
only makes me want to trace patterns of the stars
into every inch of the pale expanse of your skin,
to hear what your breath sounds like
when it’s expelled in a long exhale,
to watch your eyes widen at my impropriety,
to feel your bones beneath my hands.
This is a study of science: biology, chemistry,
the way my blood churns, my thoughts,
a rebel army, desperately climbing over all my walls.
I grind my teeth against this need to take in every part of you,
the same thought echoes off the far reaches of my brain,
every fiber of rationality is screaming no
but the way my tongue touches my lips,
the way my fingers ache to find their fill of you
seems to overtake anything my mind could throw at me.
I long for anything to blame, but these unbecoming fantasies
are mine and mine alone, my own yearning,
built on our rapport and my ache to press these lips to yours,
to be one with the wonder that is you, if only for a fleeting moment,
if only for one night, to calm my nerves and drink you in
so you can stay here forever, right underneath my skin.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Legends Never Die
Legends Never Die
In the darkness, headlights look like stars. We spin
underneath the heavens, carefree, perfect. I remember
long nights and mornings, spent talking about
everything, and nothing. We spilt secrets, dissected
the most trivial of matters, cried on each other’s shoulders.
The color of love is really a rainbow,
and every time you peel off your fishnets, I light up
like a ferris wheel. We’re more a side show
than a group of friends, banding together because we’re different,
freak flags flying high, our fists clenched against the world. I’m
the bright flash of your hair against the sky, the sound
of maniac laughter spilling out of jam-packed cars. We have no need
for seatbelts, rules, restrictions. I’m jolted from my near catatonic state.
My entire internal structure feels made of shared moments,
bare feet and high heels, bowls of plastic fruit and dining room tables,
a vast expanse between us like the Mojave desert,
we traverse it with Taco Bell wrappers, Mountain Dew cans,
and laughter. I’m spellbound by how easily we fit together,
brand-new puzzle pieces, unspoiled and un-lost, our arms and legs
and fingers and toes combining readily when we cram 5 people
onto a futon or in the back of a car, hands holding hands,
discussing adventures to downtown to wander the streets,
smoke cigarettes, or to the airport to run down hallways,
cause havoc, have photo shoots. I remember dancing
around the living room with no pants on, practicing Rocky Horror
at 3 in the morning when we’d been drinking, coloring
in Disney coloring books, taping our masterpieces to the wall
while we realize Sebastian is red, causing fits of stoned giggles.
We drove everywhere in the middle of the night: Wal-Mart,
friend’s houses, Downtown Disney. We infiltrated theme parks,
our sticky fingers not quite getting us in trouble, we
counted up our loot and watched movies all night. Days existed
for sleeping, fast food and Harry Potter, laying on the couch,
playing video games, shirking responsibility. We were unemployed,
or slightly employed, or students, or all of the above. We spun through days
like tops, whirling, always on the move, unstoppable. The fallout,
a drunken haze. Fist fights, word fights, snow globes and sleeping with a knife
under my pillow. We parted: scared, sad, angry, defiant.
None of us willing to admit when we were wrong. The mountain we made
imploded, burying us in the wreckage, we struggled to survive.
The dust is gone, I can see clearly now, that we were heroes and legends,
and legends never die.
In the darkness, headlights look like stars. We spin
underneath the heavens, carefree, perfect. I remember
long nights and mornings, spent talking about
everything, and nothing. We spilt secrets, dissected
the most trivial of matters, cried on each other’s shoulders.
The color of love is really a rainbow,
and every time you peel off your fishnets, I light up
like a ferris wheel. We’re more a side show
than a group of friends, banding together because we’re different,
freak flags flying high, our fists clenched against the world. I’m
the bright flash of your hair against the sky, the sound
of maniac laughter spilling out of jam-packed cars. We have no need
for seatbelts, rules, restrictions. I’m jolted from my near catatonic state.
My entire internal structure feels made of shared moments,
bare feet and high heels, bowls of plastic fruit and dining room tables,
a vast expanse between us like the Mojave desert,
we traverse it with Taco Bell wrappers, Mountain Dew cans,
and laughter. I’m spellbound by how easily we fit together,
brand-new puzzle pieces, unspoiled and un-lost, our arms and legs
and fingers and toes combining readily when we cram 5 people
onto a futon or in the back of a car, hands holding hands,
discussing adventures to downtown to wander the streets,
smoke cigarettes, or to the airport to run down hallways,
cause havoc, have photo shoots. I remember dancing
around the living room with no pants on, practicing Rocky Horror
at 3 in the morning when we’d been drinking, coloring
in Disney coloring books, taping our masterpieces to the wall
while we realize Sebastian is red, causing fits of stoned giggles.
We drove everywhere in the middle of the night: Wal-Mart,
friend’s houses, Downtown Disney. We infiltrated theme parks,
our sticky fingers not quite getting us in trouble, we
counted up our loot and watched movies all night. Days existed
for sleeping, fast food and Harry Potter, laying on the couch,
playing video games, shirking responsibility. We were unemployed,
or slightly employed, or students, or all of the above. We spun through days
like tops, whirling, always on the move, unstoppable. The fallout,
a drunken haze. Fist fights, word fights, snow globes and sleeping with a knife
under my pillow. We parted: scared, sad, angry, defiant.
None of us willing to admit when we were wrong. The mountain we made
imploded, burying us in the wreckage, we struggled to survive.
The dust is gone, I can see clearly now, that we were heroes and legends,
and legends never die.
Slipping
Slipping
It’s only natural that you should
cling to me, to us, to what we were
or what we had, the stuff that’s gone.
I can feel that old desire stir, a
long-sleeping tiger, awakened,
I’m stretching out after hibernation.
My heart is fully encompassed,
given away, held under lock and key,
by the one who picked me up,
pieced me back together, made me
whole again, the one I love so fiercely.
I cannot give it to you. This union
can never be, my once love,
down tiger, down. I slip into fantasy,
wander lost through the real world,
so confused. Can’t you see,
I’m slipping?
It’s only natural that you should
cling to me, to us, to what we were
or what we had, the stuff that’s gone.
I can feel that old desire stir, a
long-sleeping tiger, awakened,
I’m stretching out after hibernation.
My heart is fully encompassed,
given away, held under lock and key,
by the one who picked me up,
pieced me back together, made me
whole again, the one I love so fiercely.
I cannot give it to you. This union
can never be, my once love,
down tiger, down. I slip into fantasy,
wander lost through the real world,
so confused. Can’t you see,
I’m slipping?
Burn It Down
Burn It Down
Down the rabbit hole,
through the looking glass,
opposite side of the mirror
upside down. This world
is like Wonderland on acid,
the expanses of my mind,
multi-colored and bright,
a rainbow in July.
My eyes are pinwheel prisms
reflected off the stars. Stretch
my fingers out like taffy,
I’m long-handed like an outlaw,
but my six-shooter is made of glass
and when it shoots, I shatter.
You hair glitters, diamonds,
my fingertips run through it
bleeding, bleeding.
Our teardrops are but rain,
we will water the plants with our eyes.
When our bodies come together,
thunder echoes off the wall
like a thousand of burst balloons.
The energy between us could
power this entire city, if
we weren’t so keen to simply
burn it down, and frolic
in its ashes.
Down the rabbit hole,
through the looking glass,
opposite side of the mirror
upside down. This world
is like Wonderland on acid,
the expanses of my mind,
multi-colored and bright,
a rainbow in July.
My eyes are pinwheel prisms
reflected off the stars. Stretch
my fingers out like taffy,
I’m long-handed like an outlaw,
but my six-shooter is made of glass
and when it shoots, I shatter.
You hair glitters, diamonds,
my fingertips run through it
bleeding, bleeding.
Our teardrops are but rain,
we will water the plants with our eyes.
When our bodies come together,
thunder echoes off the wall
like a thousand of burst balloons.
The energy between us could
power this entire city, if
we weren’t so keen to simply
burn it down, and frolic
in its ashes.
Oz
Oz
When I start to miss you,
I feel I’m melting. I shrink down
to a river, and try to flow to you,
arms and legs flailing.
I can’t pull myself away.
I let myself fall down,
down, every feeling like
a fire bomb, destroying my walls
again. I don’t feel this.
I feel none of this, he is the dam,
keeping me at bay, he captures me
like a net captures a butterfly,
his arms encircle me and I feel
like I am home. You were the tornado,
and I was Dorothy, but he is Kansas,
and when I click my heels,
it’s to him I’ll always return.
When I start to miss you,
I feel I’m melting. I shrink down
to a river, and try to flow to you,
arms and legs flailing.
I can’t pull myself away.
I let myself fall down,
down, every feeling like
a fire bomb, destroying my walls
again. I don’t feel this.
I feel none of this, he is the dam,
keeping me at bay, he captures me
like a net captures a butterfly,
his arms encircle me and I feel
like I am home. You were the tornado,
and I was Dorothy, but he is Kansas,
and when I click my heels,
it’s to him I’ll always return.
Remember
Remember
My hands are still warm
from the last time they held you,
my eyes are still dry
as if we’d never met.
My legs are still sore
from our late night encounters,
my fingertips still tingle
at the memory of touch.
We melted together, a
child’s shrinking toy in the oven,
arms and legs combining, creating
some monster, made of pleasure,
pain, and loss. We were solace,
sound and fury, over in a fleeting moment,
never to be again.
My hands are still warm
from the last time they held you,
my eyes are still dry
as if we’d never met.
My legs are still sore
from our late night encounters,
my fingertips still tingle
at the memory of touch.
We melted together, a
child’s shrinking toy in the oven,
arms and legs combining, creating
some monster, made of pleasure,
pain, and loss. We were solace,
sound and fury, over in a fleeting moment,
never to be again.
Orbit
Orbit
I feel like a tiny planet
abandoned at the edge
of your universe,
light-years away from you,
the sun. You don't even know I exist.
You callously cut me to the core,
left me to bleed out, alone.
I'm Pluto, too small and insignificant,
too far away from you to really
make a difference.
I'm not even in your orbit.
I feel like a tiny planet
abandoned at the edge
of your universe,
light-years away from you,
the sun. You don't even know I exist.
You callously cut me to the core,
left me to bleed out, alone.
I'm Pluto, too small and insignificant,
too far away from you to really
make a difference.
I'm not even in your orbit.
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