Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

An inner emptiness that you can’t translate

Sea urchins watch me spin like a landslide
Unsure what comes next
Not sure if I’ll pull through
Lavender sea bed, schools of orange fish with blue stripes
I breathe every chemical in, and I’m doing so fine

He doesn’t call to come over
I got a dog that comes when called
Didn’t expect that to be
But it fits me quite nicely
She lays against my running shoes
As though they belong to the godly Earth
Call my mother and tell her I’m doing so fine

Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven: Continued

You come across as
Tender
But you’re more violent than the tornados found in Oklahoma, Nebraska, and the South of Dakota
The plain states which are far from plain, because the bartender knows your name even before you walk in and order what the masses are having

There is a certain irony to how he shows callousness to the world
It so evidently depicts what he tries to hide
Myself, I’ve given up staying wide awake to wonder why,
As there are lavender flowers with higher powers than standard protocol would lead you to believe
I tremble on flat ground, but am most composed where it’s rocky
Try to remember what it was like, but my eyeglasses become foggy

A raindrop in the company of a million oak leaves
Desperate for its singular, idealized attention

You have to be observant without reading too much into certain things
I’ll fade in the summer months, but come up vibrant with the snow in February
Callow and shy, but on Neptune the temperature is
Humid like a riverbed overflowing with algae
Extracted for supplements you find at the natural food store
You only walk in because the weather is poor
(Doing laundry and then doing laundry again because you’re bored)

Tender spirit
Your affection is like
Surveillance footage I watch on repeat

This dog comes when called
I think this is heaven, after all

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Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

Avalanche
Dream garden
February twenty-nine

Too beautiful to me, it is
The way the truth falls but doesn’t diminish its overwhelming servitude
Grief like hollow images and stills
To be flawed and fawned with grey embers & soft wax
Rolled on Ireland’s greenest pastures
My dream garden
My avalanche

I wake up endlessly absolving my sins, unraveling for you
Tell me what it is you want me to do
I’m so aware of what I can and cannot be
And I think it’s best you not be there for me
I tire in my own sleep

Morning cereal
For four in the afternoon
You wash over me like an
Avalanche
Like my dream garden
White roses and picket fences, freshly painted
Soft tuberose fragrance
Dismantling me from within
Fabricated and built in great jeopardy
Soft and of the finest fabric

I think of you in waterfalls, that I’ve never seen before
I ask you to close the door
I’m impatient in the mornings but by evening so wrapped up in comatose fiber sheath
Toying with my own nerves
On purpose
Like a fever dream
Like ants unscrambled
Running out of fear, hiding beneath dust
Moving pollen and feathers to their corporate offices

When I pass by you on the street
With my kitten heels and utmost softness
Try not to
Try not to

Go back to your dream garden
Your avalanche
Beneath dust

Connected by the sheer composition that melts in broad daylight
Collectively held at
A disadvantage
Brought together in the Spring when the ambiance paints a different mood
For the dust underneath the conjoining ether
Without reserve
Still and unenthusiastic
Hopeful, yet without meaning

Find me in my personal dream garden
When the smoke clears

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Love poem for him: earthquake

Love poem for him: earthquake

You know I stopped myself before I could love you
But
We broke apart
And I can’t help but stare
At your blank, sad face
And the only thing sad about it
Is that you’re not afraid to let me go
You’re not afraid to let

I tried to wake up
But I’m always on the wrong side of the bed
We never got to have that night in the hotel
We never got to have that heavenly first dance
The first and the last pages don’t make me too sad
It’s the way the world turns
Your fingers latched on
Not very tight
Like a blouse that’s unloosened
A foggy memory that never becomes clear

I’m trying to relive the skyscrapers and unraveling chaos
Though all that comes to mind in abstract vision and delusion,
Is you screaming in my direction
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop

What makes you so afraid
To show love to an unloved person
The way you play guitar
It makes me so sad
It makes me so sad
Not for anything do you feel bad
Like grey, fallen embers on a cold winter night
Even though you’d say you’d never
Be there for me
Your sovereignty
Your power

And I remember you
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
The distance that separates me from jagged, carbon you
In ocean waves, we grasp at what feels familiar
What’s underneath us will quench our thirst
Yours, preferably
Mine, isn’t regarded
Unless it’s four in the afternoon & the sun is piercing your nerves
Telling you that these antics are your last fatal curse
I’m far removed
To tell you the truth
I do only the things the boldest among us do

I don’t wait until there’s nothing left to take
In the distance between your brown eyes
And these soft, fallen embers of Victorian blue
Crawl back
Crawl back
Panic attack
Mesh and in pieces
Forgive me for grieving

All ends in love, and love has its reasons
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me

It’s so unnerving
Like an earthquake on purpose
It’s so delectable
Like you’ve lost your ability to reason

I’m always portrayed as the one who leaves the throne
Gown is disheveled, porcelain skin intact
Like an earthquake on purpose
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
What has become of rage has given its way to you

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Poem: Soft-lit diner (like this)

Poem: Soft-lit diner (like this)

We’re sitting down at a soft-lit diner
You’re asking about my old man, the coal miner
I think of soft petals when I see you

Your grey truck is parked out front
There’s flowers in my hair and flowers in my hands
The only arguments we have are about who are the best bands
And I always win
I always win

You listen to the things I say, like they’re important
And your gorgeous pale skin is coming to focus
I’m not sure when I want to press the shutter
Because I just love looking at you like this
Ambivalent
Pink kiss
Collagen lips
I love looking at you like this

This is about the time that I begin to get paranoid
But, no
My gaze is on you
The sky interrupts me into pieces
I have nothing to be guilty about
I think I’ve got it figured out

I’m madly in heaven; the ocean is crisp
The sea makes me forget about the bitter drip
Your eyes are magnified

Ambivalent
Pink kiss
Collagen lips
I love looking at you like this

I found myself without inspiration
So I didn’t write for weeks
I think you know
I think you know
If I took your hand, where I would lead you to

I have nothing to be guilty about
This time around
This time around
I’m running away from you on the playground
I’m running away from you on the playground

Your voice is my new favourite sound
I say to you
Speak loud

This time around
This time around
I’m running away from you on the playground
Your voice is my new favourite sound
Your voice is my new favourite sound

The ocean is crisp
I love looking at you like this

Poem: Burial ground (true love)

Poem: Burial ground (true love)

I’m a very kind and gracious girl
If you let me, I will give you the world
But as the brutality of this world continues to unfold
My mirror’s edge is veiled, my patience can’t be sold

Give me your garden
Make everything quiet
I swear I’m prettiest when I’m not lying
I won’t give up hoping, I won’t stop trying
But it would be a piece of fiction to say I don’t dream of dying

You’re laughing at me
My blonde hair blows in the breeze
I will prevail, even though they’re dead-set on bringing long-lasting harm to me
I see through the trees
When I run, you freeze
Collapsing in child’s fables isn’t only for the weak
Take me with you
I want to know what God knows
Don’t be scared of the nighttime
In the darkest hours, I’m most composed

The more you grow up, the smarter you think you are
But in the same circumstances, you always lose yourself
I collect hard-cover books of flowers & death spells
I know all the wonderful roses by their first and last names
I play with my sanity like it’s my favourite win-or-lose game
You were always so harsh
But me? Oh, so tame
Didn’t know how to respond to all the accusations and shame
I hate you, I love you
It all sounded the same

I’ve decided to take my most loved photo of us down from my shelf
I thought it proved we were real
The space between you and myself
But my mitral valve is still broken, so I can’t afford to inconvenience oneself
Though our smiles were true
You said it yourself
Never seen a girl look at you so warm and heartfelt
It hurts now
But it didn’t back then
Those split seconds repeat in my mind, again and again
You were my prince, my most handsome immunogen
You said I stunned in my floral dress
Dainty and parisienne

I know this frail body wasn’t exactly built to please
I’m a young girl too – I have restraint, but I have needs
My singleness of purpose is far too remote
I tend to break up with boys by posting poems I wrote
When I was at my most fragile, I asked you for a rose
Your promises were painful because I never got those

But your perseverance to love me will be your best power
I stay up wondering how to please you
I only sleep a few hours
Me at my most tired is me at my most sour
How much more beautiful do I need to be, in order to receive a white flower?
I’m sort of like a princess stuck at the crown of a tower
My father’s hung flyers for the peasants and princes to form a line
Some of them have courage
Some barely have a spine
The common denominator seems to be they’re all trying
But if you said it’s to impress me, I’d say that you’re lying

Several days ago, I bought roses
To make myself smile
I didn’t change the water
Just like me, they’re dying

Winters in Chicago were when I felt my most free
The wind chill was so strong, I felt it belonged to me
It didn’t matter that it was a lake, I still saw it as the sea
All I remember are evenings at Argo Tea
Feeling happy, just to be me

You must have composure, you must be determined
I’m taking care of myself, I’m doing it on purpose
The December chill confronts me with things I am sure of
Like how spontaneously great heights can collapse
Like how the disillusioned are most likely to relapse
Like how I felt, true love was almost in my grasp

But as the fog on my window, it visited and then passed
It disappeared just like that
I’m trying not to react

I’m screaming into my pillow
(I’m trying not to react)
I’m folding laundry to feel productive
(I’m scared of whom I’ll attract)
I lied to everybody & said I was fine
(I was so scared the whole time)
I’m taking every analeptic
(I write your name, strike it out with a line)

I picture me in your backyard,
Picking grapes off the vine
I cried the whole way home, driving past the coastline
I thought I didn’t deserve beauty, God doesn’t want me on cloud nine
So I hit up your number,
Forgot you were atropine
And now I’m having trouble sleeping because you aren’t my lifeline
I tell you
I need you!
You say, maybe next time
“I’ve got a girl here, she’s helping me escape my mind”

To some people, I’m gorgeous
To you, I’m saccharine
But everything I am, you will always undermine
I’m not your chosen one
Never your valentine

I’m the one that treads water
Looking for reasons to be alive

If you were safety, you wouldn’t give me your hand
You’d sail towards what suits you
The palm trees, the sand

I would get tired
Give up and drown
You wouldn’t say sorry, because you wouldn’t be around

The water obscures my hearing
The green-blue current is the only sound
I wanted to be loved, the void was what I found
But the ocean is my new bliss, so I fade into the background
I’m five again, I’ve found my new playground

I would get tired
Give up and drown
You wouldn’t say sorry, you wouldn’t be around
I’m five again, I’ve found my new playground
The sea has become my chosen burial ground
The green-blue current is the only sound

The void is what I felt, but true love is what I found

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Dedicated to: James Mark Davies.