Naked Poetry

Stop Wishing

me lucky.

Lest I be completed

in something other than

a circle,

I’ll call out to you.

Stop getting involved

with my stars.

They aren’t very friendly. I’d stop

reaching out to them

if I were you, they’re not listening to you.

They’re never gonna see you—

Your lights are off.

You’ve gone out of business.

You’ve let people inside and they’ve taken

EVERYTHING.

Even your favorite clock.

The silent one.

That doesn’t remind you of your

metronome.

The loud one. Without controls.

It’s nothing like that Light Bulb.

Let it go.

it’s only fishing for compliments.

It’s a one-sided

matinee show you’ll never see the Ending.

You maybe saw yourself beginning.

Whatever it was—

it was not lasting.

That’s why you Dream

in length

and width.

When you’re too silent,

people yank and stick their thoughts in you.

When they talk —

I dream of E n d i n g

Whenever they walk,

they are just beginning

will they always remain new to this.

I’d wonder

if it mattered.

If I Knew New York (Interlude, original song)

She should've been a sculpture

in Sydney, Australia.

Article 5, newspaper 17

if you need her

she'll be lost in lithium

vitriolic​ and upset

this girl needs Soul Rest

Your Seismic Eyes

Diamond Rain

Im an addict for you. I’m addicted to the euphoric. I’m addicted to eurphoria

IF

Because—-

Because—I see your face on the cover of every magazine I see your reflection in the water of every bottle I drink and I’m scared to laugh when I get in the ocean because I’m scared I’ll cry for you. Every first year was half as long as your very first vein extending the sound of your very own heartache fingerprint smashing the ink spot on and off and on and off and on like the fraction that fractured my skull and the rapture that wraps you within where were you when you weren’t you? I can’t even get an hour and a half past you—baby halves of a half of a wishbone making fun of the spine in my backpack what’s the matter, can’t you fly? Fall asleep at the sight of your smile bearing beautiful armies of tears palms up like the shine of a spoon staring blankly at the chance of you ever seeing the backsplash of your own eyelash yes, you! The ladder crumbling underneath my skin my favorite favorite feeling so much better for me than hope because ho

Terrible Terror