gray eyes, soft like a old sweatshirt you wear to football games and for curling up on the couch in the rain. gray like the rain falling from the sky warm like the sun, shining on top of a mountain just before noon. gray the haze over the sea, wispy fog drifting through the overpass gray like the softest parts of the night. gray has never been so beautiful to me.
Tag Archives: beautiful
Clockwork
Razor blades? Or wine drunk?
Will 2009 percs get you high?
Instead of running,
I’m running from things.
Drowning in self pity?
Or is there something fucking wrong with me?
Googling,
—how much tramadol to get me high.
Google says,
—tramadol is considered an opiate narcotic drug.
Razor blades? Or wine drunk?
Are you an alcoholic if you
are too lazy to go to the store for whiskey?
Do you fucking love me?
He says he loves me.
My brain says shut the fuck up.
—no you don’t.
It always happens like this.
It’s like clockwork.
Elation.
I’m so fucking happy.
Restless.
Want to get in my car and never look back.
Depressed.
Sometimes I’m angry,
and that brings shame
and shame feels like shit.
So does angry.
I feel so much.
Razor blades. Or wine.
Fuck.
Like, I’ve been here before.
I know how it goes.
I know it fades,
but right now I don’t want to fucking feel shit.
Unless it’s someone telling me how goddamn beautiful I am.
Talking to you, Cameron.
Think that’s gonna happen?
Fuck no.
Razor blades? Or wine?
I’m drinking the wine.
I’m drinking the wine.
Hey Google,
—does this make me an alcoholic?
Do you know what the serving size is for alcohol?
—Take a sip.
Can I talk to you about your substance use?
—Take a sip.
There are other
—take a sip
coping skills you can use
—take a sip
like deep breathing
—take a sip.
Razor blades.
Or wine.
Wine.
safe place.
you are a safe place.
strong and steady and firm,
a place barely discovered,
yet so, so beautiful.
maybe it will only be for a moment,
a place of temporary respite,
from winds that rage.
maybe you will be an island,
where i can lose myself, completely.
shipwrecked for days and months.
i dont know what is next –
in minutes or seconds or moments,
all i know is that for now – for today,
you are my safest place.
chaos in a bottle.
she’s fucking chaos in a bottle
brains on fire
thoughts inside a jetpack.
she’s reckless, venturesome
whispering to the wind
cat-calling to the past
she’s fucking chaos in a bottle
one she’s been drinking
from. like amphetamine
slow down wild child.
stop driving down the lane
where the fucking memories live
stay here. living in the present.
but she’s already gone
flying to the future,
singing her own song
fuck her, fuck them, fuck ’em all
she’s just fucking chaos in a bottle.
little bird.
Fly little bird, fly away
Fly from those fires that rage
Find your peace in darkness
Find your quiet in the night
Fly little bird, far away
Fly with the wind at your back
Fly with the hope in your soul
Flap those wings
May angels carry you
To a destination far from
These fires that rage
Fly, fly you free spirited thing
Fly away, fly where you can sing
Fly to open waters of the sea
Fly where you can be, just be
Fly little bird,
Away from these fires that rage
Little bird, little bird,
These fires rage so beautifully
Fly away, fly little bird
From these fires that rage
-Inside of you.
how to be brown.
don’t be.
your brown skin,
how could it ever be –
so beautiful as mine.
your brown words,
how could they ever be –
so perfectly refined.
you’re just an imperfection,
a blemish on society.
you weren’t no slave,
you ain’t no slave,
your people put you there,
anyway. anyway.
how to be brown –
don’t be.
don’t protest with your peace.
don’t want your brownness near me.
keep your brown crime, brown violence
in your broken brown town.
do you speak English?
try acting white sometime.
here’s a tip on
how to be brown.
just don’t be.
**I hope that if you are reading this, you understand that this poem is not meant to insult people who are brown, but as a form of protest against racism.
aster.
rise up from the ashes of who you have been.
rise up, i say to you – rise up, rise up again!
let the person you were stay right there –
let it live in the dust of yesterday.
the flames that tried to dwindle you to ash
could never destroy all that you are –
so rise up – lift your bones out of the dirt
present them to the world so white and clean.
never has anyone been so beautiful as you –
you were never so blue as those flames
just a hued aster in some faraway field.
gun smoke.
I see you, ready for war
with your gun and your attitude.
I see you there, armed too
with your judicial vigilantism;
your sentence would be swift,
in theory. Painless even.
I am not blind to what you see.
I see the world for what it is;
broken, but beautifully so.
broken, but tragically so.
I hope you never have to see
the aftermath of what I know
you’re capable of. I hope.
So beautiful through the haze
of a gun that’ll never stop smokin’.
Thing is, the thing is,
they were beautiful too.
Broken, but beautifully so.
Broken, but tragically so.
soul. speak. 