poem: the other black parade

the pretty people are still alive: the girls in white blouses, the boys being kissed from train-windows.   I was alive in aftershock: I had sex with ghosts and wrote love letters to the gods, to the dust motes in my hair. I was waiting for a boy with too pale skin and black eyes… Continue reading poem: the other black parade

poem: vlog #19 winter night self-care routine

people who are in love are desperate and boring. people who are not in love are just boring. the artists and the addicts are self-justifying, living in cities in the sky, living in New York with neon palm-trees. But I am too busy being an Aesthetic, with long black hair pulled nicely into a blood-knot,… Continue reading poem: vlog #19 winter night self-care routine

poem: river flows in you (three steps for love)

i wrote a manual last november: how to fall in love, three easy steps. first, be a ghost, be silent and secret: your lips so dusty that even coughing cracks a new breath. then wait for a boy to uncork into greying Fall days, his eyes splashing wine, his voice nervous and young; while you,… Continue reading poem: river flows in you (three steps for love)

poem: cabin out in Nowhere

wouldn't it be nice if someone was secretly in love with me--- loner, an under-used word in the poet's dictionary, but it tattoos nicely into her softer eyelids fraying, against her cheeks. against her intellect. wouldn't it be nice if someone found my answering all the univere's questions-- adorable--and not awkward-- the shifting impatient eyes… Continue reading poem: cabin out in Nowhere