

finger puppetsi died or at least i felt like it when i was on the cold floorfinger puppets
in my stepfather's basement
the week after i turned
sixteen years old
and some people, they call it living the way the birds and
bees are finger puppets his finger puppets,
just waiting to be played with.
-
i look out of the
window-wall from my bed,
its 9:37 pm and the moonlit streets
are already filled
with boys racing their
shiny new cars and
girls who are smoking because
they think it will keep them skinny.
i sit up an


he's the bravesttoday he built a bridge over the sea of tears you cried the tears you think he doesn't know about andhe's the bravest
tonight you'll knock that bridge down.
tomorrow he'll fold a tiny paper boat and he will set
sail down your body of water,
hoping that maybe this time he'll reach you.
-
when he does, they'll all be talking about it they'll all be talking about cody,
the boy who built the highest bridge even though
he was scared of heights. the boy who set sail,
even though he was scared of drowning.
he's the bravest of them al


tobacco and sea salt it's half past midnight. thetobacco and sea salt
scent of tobacco and sea salt
cling to eric as he carves
secrets into his skin. they
look like raindrops and now
he's standing in the middle
of the hallway, looking at me
as if to say "see what i've
done."
-
eric is the type of boy who
wouldn't be impressed if he
saw new york up close, but
would just stare at the
unnecessary amount of people
then shake his head and walk
away. he is the type of boy
who will end up smoking his
mothers ashes after she finally
d
speechless

rewrite these thoughts prettyhe will splatter the torture across her smilerewrite these thoughts pretty
and those lips will reach the sky.
he spoke of how "the pretty ambulances will come. oh and honey they'll give you all the pills you need.
oh how they'll stitch those cheeks back to your jaw, honey you'll never smile again."
and how she was a child and her mother was a whore. and how she was a child and her mother was a violent giggle and a belly-button ring. and how she placed that pretty scarlet wine in her daughter's fingertips. and how her voice sounded like a slut indulging in an angel,
when she hushed "might


tuesday.monday; into everything. in this city, we believe in keeping our eyes open. we pause and let our hearts skip beats for every passing ambulance. here, everyone knows how to love. there's a new girl in town. and they say her name is lovely.tuesday.
tuesday; breathe. i saw lovely with my own eyes this morning, silhouetted against a peach suburban skyline. she was beautiful, and she had a story; i could tell that somewhere out there, something was written about her, and i thought maybe the sky composed sonnets and carved them into the backs of dolphins; of course s

Previous Page12345...Next Page