Getting High

I started smoking again just to prove how over you I am.

I found 5 pointed stars in my bed,

Tore my sheets and poked microscopic holes in my mattress.

A dip in the terrain for every night you’ve spent.

I sleep over 3D maps and contemplate earthquakes now.

The mountains you created make knots in my back,

My lows don’t feel so low anymore;

While the highs,

Hurt a hell of a lot more

Than the lows

Ever did.



I wish my jeans were smaller

that I would speak less about things I don’t know about.

Even with my size

I feel I carry such heavyweight;

In my words

or my expressions.

I walk with my head down

and I have a nice curve down my spine.

I’m always carrying a backpack

and my shoes are too tight.

I crash into strangers

because I think I take up too much space.


My father told the crowd

that his daughter’s poetry

was made of lore and lyric.

It reminded him of roses,

but they were covered in dirt and blood,

And that in and of itself

was the best part.


Blue vs. Orange

I went to an estate sale.

A woman was selling a baby blue guitar.

“It’s yours — I’m moving to Aruba.”

And off I went with baby blue in hand.

As Blue as an Aries,

was the name of the band.

There was a boy in navy blue swim trunks playing in a South Jersey blue hole.

I blushed at the site of him — pink.

I put down my guitar and started to paint my hair shades of blue.

Streaky and soft,

like watercolor ink.

I found a man in orange,

offering me warm bearded kisses.

I didn’t want them but I was cold.

“This could be a good move for me,” I thought.

I went to the bathroom to wash the paint out,

but the whole room was blue.



I don’t feel pretty when I wear my glasses;

I wear them anyway.

My hair’s getting long now

The weight of my head

Makes it pin straight

It goes right to hell.

My skull feels swollen

I can feel calcium trying to mix with oxygen.

I’ve learned to not say hello to people who aren’t worth a sliver of my time, or

More appropriately put;

A single strand

Of my silver stardust gorgeous hair.



The city has made me hard when I long so much to be soft.

I’m afraid that when I return I’ll want to leave,

and I’m afraid I won’t leap;

but, harden

when it comes down to it.



Not everything taste so sweet this time of year 

Some things are bitter and sour

How I love the intensity of it all.

I want to reborn as sour candy 

I want to make someone’s mouth water

Their throat muscles clench at the site of me 

The problem with me is 

I want to be felt before I’m tasted.



I missed the night.IMG_3698

I smoked passion flower,

left a water bottle open in my bag,

slept with lipstick and glitter

for 12 hours and it’s still not enough.

You were in my dream–

at least a part of you was.

My childhood fish friend decided to move in with me.

It’s always dark now,

in every dream,

Blue, Black, Grey silvers of light

form the non-existing moon bounce off of puddles and trees.

I want to hide.

I want to be seen.

I don’t know which one I want more.

I am surrounded by vomit,


and sleepiness,

and disappointment.

When did everything I write become so dark?


Quit gagging (it’s not what you think)

I thought seeing you would make me feel better,

but now I feel worse.

As if I didn’t hate them already.

As if I needed another reason.

I would tell you if it was your fault,

but it’s really not.

I would speak the words

if they didn’t make me so sick.

I would say them loud

if I wasn’t already gagging.

Some people make you feel worse

while some make you feel better.



Sun Rain

I long for car sunburns,

sleep, and spearmint gum.

I’ll move to the Midwest and use it as toothpaste.

We’ll pass of Fireball on the road

and use bumps as pick-me-ups at 5am.

We’ll never think of the rain again.