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.


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.


Tart cherry,

I lost my grandmother’s ring.

The one with the rose quartz

and silver wire wrap. 

I’m kneeling on my carpet 

looking for wet spots.

I’m always picking up and putting down

such odd flavors. 




I love boys with bad skin

who sweat violence

ignite the switch

play with their hair

spit with fury

throw up on my front steps

and try to sleep with me.

A filthy pattern.

It drags me through the god damn mud

the god damn mud.



IMG_0654I cannot hide the fire

that drives me.

It is lustful and all encompassing.

It smolders and burns

and when it hits the oxygen

it erupts,

curls into the night sky

reaches into the atmosphere.

It is wild and untamed.

It is desperate for release,

as am I.

It wants to take the city whole.