“Once upon a time, there were two people who met and instantly fell in love.” 


Muddled with sentiment 

and enamored by touch

They paint pretty pictures 

of forever and always 

on the canvas of their 


and with 

tight fingers interlocked

 and unafraid   

they wear each other’s hearts proudly.


It would be ideal if things ever truly worked out that way. 

If blurred lines were straight 

and the government gave a fuck 

and you looked at me 

the way I look at you when your head is turned the other way.


But there is no simple love or reciprocity

 for the abused and damned

Who have cursed  God’s name too many times to be saved


Our yearning echos empty 

Into deposits of lost hope

And feigned laughter

Evoked by episodes of repression and wiping our own tears. 


We are

fallen angels without wings

Outcasted for the horrors we bring

Contrasted from the auras that sing

Happy endings


Against all odds


The chosen one

Of many

that have been

deflowered by filthy fingers

fated feticouly upon

Forbidden lands


Smiles at the sight of you. 

You wear the pride of Alexander the great 

between the creases of your lips 

Conquering half your face 

you reign glorious 


You live in the space between here and now 


Kinks and coils 

affixed and royal 


by the masses 

Loved for the vigor you amass

You are nebulous. 


The paint stains under your  jeans and 

The ink under your skin 

And the wrinkles and scars on your young soul

Are beautiful. 

And I am addicted. 



that the mosaic masterpieces that make you up Find pleasure in sandstone ashed skin 

and dulled spirits 

that one day wish to overcome

My eyes pique like new growth rising high above judgment

Because you are unconventional 

You are like me 


Alongside fragmented fantasies falling 

perfectly in line with your life purpose against mine. 


Do not fall for a girl like me 

I am outcast 

Protected by corroded metal shutters

closed and caked with self-harm graffiti and fictitious rose-colored lenses

Strapped over reinforced eyes. 

I am manic minus pixie minus dream girl. 

Artistically hardened from the world,

I am a broken circuit board

Faint and out of focus

Bursting haphazardly between bruised knees and crenated hearts




I’m not like those others girls

who are dutiful, worthy and praised

I am rather beautifully, filthy and phased by

 tragedies advancements

I am running


 Helter skelter directions

daringly dimming

the destruction

left behind

By overemphasized dreams of deity and deliberation of goodness.


I don’t stand a chance.


My nerves softly rattle around you.

Shassahing like the skeletons of trees. you are much more than plain eyes can see

And I,


with twisted ideas

Branching over my thoughts of pursuing you.

I don’t stand a chance


Roses are red, violets are blue and

Me plus you equals misconstrued emotions

and sleepless sullen eyes mixed with

never ending sequels of missed demise


I will tell you are ugly for finding beauty in someone like me

Do not kiss my scars and tell me you love me

Because I will set fire to your home while you attempt to build mine


I will make jokes of my trauma

Because mama told me laughter was the best medicine

So in order to heal I conceal my hidden feelings with

Slapstick and sarcasm

I will scream at you for trying to protect me

And refuse to accept reality

Because what is real in a world built off secrecy

there is no love for wounded soldiers

With heavy hearts and

blackened eyes


Wet with worry after having been

forcefully pried open

& Ferociously

Charred and burned a new 

 to the authenticity of human nature


It is ugly and malicious and unkind.


In an effort to save time and  trauma

We pretend not to notice.


Blossoms of pleasures

Make appearances sometimes.

Soothing and caressing the body that once held stiff and firm.

Soft lips and sandpaper hands disquieting and disillusioned

Taking in the idea of unwounded undressed bodies

Ventriloquizing emotions between satin sheets

Your voice is lyrical 

And your crooked smile is charming

And we could be a silent parody of a soft dystopia.


I wish I knew the version of you that

 existed before my stage entrance into your life.


behind the scenes,

all I see are paper shadows

Fickle and incomplete.


There is an etch to your body

that I could trace for days with my eyes


that curve and bend in ways that never cease to amaze me

And I can only surmise that my touch

is not the kind to recreate the movements that make you up.

Because there is no simple love or reciprocity for the abused and damned


So I keep my distance and admire from afar.