Little [Random] Things

the texture of sadness might be the same as the touch of sunshine on the back of your eyelids tears glitter, did you know? the color of the empty chambers of your heart the way it bleeds into your lungs like the word hello that sort of tastes like a goodbye,  I love you thrown carelessly into the sunrise

I always thought that people were like eggs; like if you peeled back the shell and that filmy layer of fear and the white substance of things they do, you would find some golden yolk of who they are who they would be if there were no restrictions. And that freaked me out because I was not like this. I was a plastic Easter egg from Target, you cracked me open and there was nothing inside. Nothing. Every new day I felt closer to being discovered. Who knows when someone would take a closer look and then there would be fingers pointed and downcast eyes and hey! this girl has nothing inside her! [I'm wishing] Maybe this is all a fairytale. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and the sun will shine and the birds will sing and I will take one big breath one big, BIG b r e a t h and I will inhale some fiber of myself and it will grow in my stomach and fill the hollowness, so that when I smile I won't be so afraid it will pop off and roll away. Like I will belong in a stiff ca...

how many words will it take for me to convince you that i love you when you don't even understand what the meaning of love is like maybe i should give up but how many words does it take for you to tell me you love me even the silence is enough and maybe it's me who doesn't know what love is

to deny that I am in love with you is like saying I wasn't familiar with the bubbles in my chest rising hiccupy up to burst stardust because in your presence I am nothing but a loose collection an amalgamation of thoughts five hundred billion wisps of heartbeats tangled in my throat like I want to say hello but I am afraid I might burst

they create by taking away like the absence will make it whole is this what you were thinking? when you started cutting into my skin digging out shards of my breaking heart from a mountain of silence like you could save me for all the times I decided not to love you you chose the broken pieces a beautiful, melancholic sculptor always running away from endings

in the silence I bleed words, like they can't help it, like I bleed to survive. the mystery remains why is it that around you I am always coughing up nothing as if I have forgotten how to be? like you are so precious so far away that even the shadows of my words might burn you and make you leave.

I want to know. Does it hurt? She is staring at me with a tiny emerald halfway extended from the left underside of her pupil. It shudders in the sunlight and every time her eyelid comes down the corner slices smoothly through her flesh again and again and again, the tick of a heartbeat. There is blood on her new shoes but she's smiling edge to edge, just barely holding herself in. There are words falling from her lips but why can't I hear them? Does it hurt , I am screaming, and I think I'm crying but my feet dissolve into the floor, watching her, my hand barely outstretched. A sapphire bursts through her other eyeball, the very center, mid-blink, pinning her eyelid shut. She is shaking. It sounds like laughter but what do I know, there is only silence binding us together. There are no more sentences for her. I am watching these precious jewels consume her whole like she's falling asleep at the periphery of I'm fine  like she loves me but doesn't know how...

what is it like to sink into the silent seams of empty spaces  to close your eyes and let your heart roll away from under your tongue as if it never occured to you nothing would ever fit the same again like all we have lost is wonder

a how to. a how not to on saying goodbye. i hope you see this and it burns you the way i've been suffocating for years years years and i hope you never see this because why else would i be suffocating if not for your sake : how am i supposed to keep smiling when all you want to know is what i'm doing and not how i am // isn't it impossible for me not to grow up thinking that all i sum up to is a laundry list a shelved file of all my achievements // what am i supposed to do when i miss you and want to hear your voice but i know i can't call // and why is it that hanging up phone calls with you makes me want to hang up my life? // ... // what are you supposed to do when the people you love the most make you want to throw yourself out windows? " yeah i drive myself crazy thinking everything's about me why is everything so heavy " (heavy - linkin park ft kiiara) like fuck. i'm not trying to be anything i'm so busy trying to be something. everythi...

It is in the darkness of window panes stopping the bleed of night time into blank white spaces. We have been holding our palms up to the rained sky like it might nail us into the earth. There are the spaces in between, the air settling in cracks of clasped hands. I am standing on ceilings upside down, perfectly aligned with eyes and noses but we are not seen the way Joe at the office snaps his fingers and the heads jerk up and bounce. They are kisses against the edges of our skin like we are untouchable because there is no umbrella to hide under and the shards of our anger are pinning toes into soaked soil.

A secret. If you eat the strawberry from the inside out exposing the pale white insides so that the skin slips against the contours of your lips, it will taste bitter like love and the way I lie in pieces under your carpets. The only place I felt the tingle of cherry pits tucked deep inside July darkness like we meant more than the taste of flesh cutting through skin, the carpet, the moments right after darkness when I looked at your face and saw nothing I couldn't erase. I watched you consume, fear oozing from your liver as if you were filtering out the parts of me that stung, the pristine gleam of your teeth against my skin. You were around me and inside me and filtering backwards through all my memories and your eyes were never open. I love you, I screamed. You kissed me like I was summer fruit like your lips were melting like you couldn't help but break and burn and leave and who spits out strawberry seeds but you, leaving them drowning in my hair? ...

when the phone rang it was 7:03am does it ever break their hearts how mornings are the timekeepers of fate like one day when she went to bed you were in love and the next morning I was dead

You, a web of thoughts, a carefully weighted center of the universe. As you know it. How it feels to map out where you stand and where you sleep and the slanted way you line everything up to fall into place around your skin. Tell me a little about yourself , they are asking. Tell them a little about how everything belongs to you from the way you thought the rain smelled oddly like winter last night to the crinkled eyebrows that darken the neighbor's face when your grandpa sits outside smoking and muttering little blurbs of Chinese like characters will carry him back home. Tell them about the men who press themselves against you and leer at the contrast of their pale veiny hands against your hips. Tell them how you sit in pools of sunlight and feel like your bones are being set on fire. Tell them it is easy to live in this world your world and laugh if they think you're honest. How you think that maybe all this should belong to you but you are not sure what it means,...

the way we grew from the shadows together, you and I were nothing but two scared little kids caught in a shadowed wisp of lies. nothing but the texture of your eyes when they lost their color over dusk nothing but the curl of sand underneath my sweat in the glint of summer's last breath. they told us to cut off our wings-- there were little stubs smack in the middle of their shoulder blades where they too had forgotten what it was like to breathe. there is only sadness, mom said. she scrubbed the tables all day like she could scrub away the world because dad was but a decomposed corpse in the cemetery down the street. the word m-o-m chipped my teeth and you and I were nothing but two dots of starlight dying in a puddle of water, nothing but the color of tears. the way you swore you remembered how we were born and how you were sorry because you were healthy and i went to the ICU and maybe i remember what it was like to be curled up in a safe place maybe we were holding...

I am not ready for the way the world ends. Things fall apart the way you close your eyes before sleep, like a deliberate release, giving yourself up to an empty space you and only you recognize. There are shadows everywhere. The way my thoughts separate: little pinpricks bursting in the midst of blank and blank and blank and the intense pulsing of heartbeats bulging at all the edges of my skin where it has all gone wrong. When I was younger I played with these little wood blocks with stars and moons cut into it, and the pieces fit exactly right. But why is it that now that I have shed the past nothing slots together anymore? I am holding elbows and knees and the extra slabs of my stomach together like it could force the squares into triangles and the ovals into circles. The world taught me to sew one stitch at a time, through blood and bones and muscles. But the way the world ends-- like the careful seams breaking and the edges dissolving into nothing and just eyeballs an...

it's a long way down from here, he says.  we are in love. he is sketching me with a 6B pencil from the outside in during the wee hours of dawn, as if i wouldn't notice. right. it hurts. i am breaking along the inside where it's supposed to matter. no one is noticing. we are sitting at the edge of the pier. the ocean is black beneath our toes and it is as deep and far away as darkness gets. it breaks against the world. uncompromising. unforgiving.  he is holding my hand. i am closing my eyes. in my mind i pick the eraser up again and slowly get back to task. stroke, by stroke, by stroke, erasing the outlines of my limbs, until i too am nothing, nothing but something deep and far away. breaking against the world. the wind is upon the rubber shavings, a ravenous hunger. he thinks he is kissing me but ha, jokes, it's all been erased, i do not have lips. i do not cry. i do not speak. i do not think. there is nothing but the utter silence of a single heart...

[simpler days happier shades not knowing what it meant to be afraid] before it all comes crashing down, I promised you [I promised you I promised you I  --] hey the way you used to swing across the monkey bars, iridescent, irreverent hang on [callused broken swinging drowning flying] break me into pieces at the edge of the valley I'm clinging to yesterday but it's endless rolls of purple [and blue] like the taste of seafoam swallowing me whole

[iii] She hands him the printouts. Her diary, he thinks. She doesn’t look up. He’s flipping through and there are rows and rows of the same line, dashed under different dates. Pre-him dates, post-him dates. I will get better, I can do it. I will get better, I can do it. I will get better, I can do it. He cries and the tears drip onto paper. They merge and blur, twist and turn, until they’ve become part of the ink. He doesn’t look up. [ii] There was a constant need to throw up, a feeling of too much. Run. She was running so fast that the wind disappeared behind her, her tears bursting into the cold air. So fast that the night expanded into a terrifying expanse of color, the whole earth spinning underneath her, sliding backwards and backwards. A blanket of moonlight drowned her into sleep. She woke up screaming, her mouth gaped open, silence tearing her throat raw. There were fingernail marks on her arm from where she tried to run, little crescents that shrunk b...