dreams

i’ve got dreams that ache like honeycomb

i’ve got a heart that’s in too deep

standing in the ocean, water up to my knees

trying to find my direction

trying to get out of this, god, please

i’ve got dreams like pressed flowers

staining book pages, crumbling in my palms

i’ve got dreams that feel more like curses

like i’m tantalus, sitting in my fucking pond

i’ll stare up at the fruit trees, i’ll lust after the water

and the second i reach, it’s gone

i’ll self-sabotage, bury my head in the sand

just trying to do what’s right

i guess i’ll just make a future out of sailcloth, and forget

to sew over my pins

i guess i’ll smile, and nod, forever be in flux

i’ll change faces like the moon, and i’ll hide behind the sun

‘cause i’ve got dreams like birthday balloons

sagging plastic on the floor

i’ve got dreams that ache like open sores

stubborn scars across my palm

a memory of idealism, long since fucking gone

i’ve got dreams that taste like lavender

and go down like wildfire smoke

dreams like steamed milk lullabies

curdled to the touch

i’ve got dreams so bright they’re blinding

i’m standing barefoot in the rain

and looking up at the sky, hanging to raindrops by fraying lines of thread

it’s not much

but i don’t let go just yet

papercut

i’m bleeding out, slowly

in papercuts and bruises, crumpled tissues on the floor, because

the kindest people i know are always the most broken

the most furious and sharp, they’re sour to the touch

i’m bleeding out slowly from muttered remarks and unfortunate conclusions

the weekdays slipping out like cards between my 

trembling fingertips, change the story 

change the narrative, that old ache inside my gut

keep it just the same as it ever fucking was

and dig the groove deeper into my skin

cause i’m so scared to mess this up, and i’m even more scared

to win

scared of what it’ll do to me when i’ve got nothing left

to thoughtlessly pursue

when there’s not an easy button to press

a pillowcase calling my name

it whispers more more more

so i’m flipping the pages and i’m biting my lips ‘ til they ache

staying up late trying to capture the planes of your face

drawing clear lines and divisions

splitting the world up like the pieces in a pie

i never get it right, no matter how hard i try

rip up the canvas, snap the frame

i’m erring just on the side

of perfection, so fucking terrified 

i’ll grow up and be just like you

i’ll be that person, i’ll let down little kids

i’ll make them beleive in fury and damnation

i’ll bite my tongue and think about you

about how hellfire touched your cheeks and something in you chose

to be good and kind

to try, try, try, even when blood drips off your lips

it’s the bravest thing a person can do

and when i lose faith in everyone

i still believe in you

sweet 16

This is actually a song, I’m gonna record this later on guitar I think–but for now, here’s the lyrics.

i’m driving down the freeway at 9:30 sharp

slept in past both my alarms, forgot to wash my face

but i’ll brush my teeth when i’m in the shower

if that’s what it takes

wishful truths, no law for youth

i feel like some cliché

i’m swallowing back another panic attack

and i’m never coming back to this place

i’m scraping knees on gravel 

treating bee-stings with honey

i’m crying over spilled milk

i’m crying over tea

i’m hungry and i’m sore 

and i just wanted to eat

but sure i’ll take the money

so i can buy myself some big kid shoes

and fuck them up real bad

so i can try to stay awake

try to keep my tenses straight

nous devons partir bientôt

mais je suis desolee 

been pulling back into my chest and 

sleeping in a ribcage 

listening to my heart beat strong and steady

and i’ll walk across the stage

but i never finished ninth grade

but i never earn it, never feel it

nestle up inside my DNA

i’ll be good

you’ll call me brilliant

and i’ll swoon just like the 

winter trees as february sun shines 

through their leaves

i’ll try not to worry

sweet fucking 16

tie up the monsters in the closet 

read some history 

i burned my feelings in the microwave

and damn it tastes like victory 

open wound (ii.)

ii. i’m constantly fucking bleeding / tripping and falling / picking at my seams / i’m sorry / i just / can’t stop  thinking that maybe it’s all a downward trend / maybe all progress is negative / and i am insignificant / caught up in the toss and the turn of the waves/ so i’m stitching myself up in the bathroom counter / too stubborn to ask for help / ’cause i know i should do better / i know that the sun will burn out / and maybe my time on this earth will have been a waste / i can’t stop thinking about it all / mourning people i have never met ‘til 2am on new year’s eve / i hope they’re happy with their lives / i hope they cheat on their wives / hope they go down in flames / just so someone can burn with me


Part 2/3 of a suite of poems.

happier (sunday afternoon)

i’ll be happier once i graduate

once i buy my parents’ car with all that money i saved

from working in the heat

and drive off into the sunset

my teen movie bullshit playing on repeat

i’ll be happier once i finish

with my big fancy degree

i’ll be happy with a certificate

to prove that i’m stronger than they thought i’d be

i’ll be happier when i can finally breathe

when my life doesn’t flash before my eyes

every time i go to sleep

when i stop eating leftovers for breakfast

and leave the house more than once a week

i’ll be happy when they clap for me

when they kiss my cheeks and touch my hands

and tell me they love me

when the people in the crowds scream my name

they say we’re proud of you, and everything you’ve done

so i don’t have to get my hands dirty

no wait

i’ll be happy when my grades go up

another number on a screen

i’ll be happy when strangers on the internet

figure out how to fix my self-esteem

i’ll be happy when i fix the fucking pimples on my skin

with multivitamins and a fake new name

when my clothes are nicer

when my hair curls just right

i’ll get better with time

i’ll improve because i have to

there’s nothing else to say

i’ll be happy

when you fix me

with true love’s kiss

and make all my problems go away

until my stomach aches

and my callow bones begin to crack

yet again

and now it’s sunday afternoon and i just want

to take it back

i want my neon god

i want my mother’s lap

i want cookies and cake and hummingbird food

i want the world upon my back

and then i’ll be happy

then, i’ll be proud of me

i’ll be strong and smart and good

always

good