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Literature Text
fingerprints all over you
like a crime
like a clue
no shade from this sun shining blue
no barricades from the flood
I'm not hurting
I just ache to be the one you love
fingerprints I crave to be mine
lining your arms and legs
delicate and fine
reminder of the time spent
living like there was no issue
I'm not hurting
I just want to put my fingerprints all over you
like a crime
like a clue
no shade from this sun shining blue
no barricades from the flood
I'm not hurting
I just ache to be the one you love
fingerprints I crave to be mine
lining your arms and legs
delicate and fine
reminder of the time spent
living like there was no issue
I'm not hurting
I just want to put my fingerprints all over you
Literature
how to become a writer
have parents that separate
when you’re in high school;
a father filled with unused anger
and a mother too busy to care.
pretend it doesn’t hurt.
let your friends treat you
like dirt;
after all,
everything is your fault.
listen to their problems with a fake smile
all the while crying out because
everything hurts and no one can see.
press a knife to your skin,
but be too cowardly to
draw your own blood.
fall in love with people
who could never notice you,
because you’re
just. not. good.
enough.
chew on the multicolored
strands of your hair.
(you can’t stop runni
Literature
Blood From a Far Off Place
Quiver full of bullet tipped arrows.
The bow of aluminum my dad made in high school.
I step into the sunlight on the south side of the house.
I'm 12.
I don't know why I pull the bowstring
back to my eye, aim upward, and loose.
Straight above my head.
And the voice said,
"You are a most common creature,
though of a peculiar people."
The Sun glints off the arrow's shaft.
I shade my eyes and wonder how long
before the arrow hits me. How long before
I step aside. How long to decipher a riddle
from a lipless voice.
Now I'm 16.
These days, I fire two arrows above my head.
Wondering. Hoping.
Bring back that voice.
One arrow. Two seconds la
Literature
Paper-Thin Promises
the first time I caught sight of your
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statu
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LOVE 