Crushable

The lipstick is worn for no one 

I fall asleep 

, my eyes lined with stars

So I need eye drops, you know 

We have got to keep making headache medicine orange 

The worst part of silence is the background noise and I think I could

Kick through the wall in maybe 2 thrusts and be in my neighbors' house. I know a whole family lives there but I only ever see the mother and daughter, but they're rarely together. 

I'll find a dad for my children half way to my death 

When the beautiful parts take too long to list, I'll have lost The list anyways 

Parts of dreams still perforated, pieces float up like dead snails 

And once she saw the beginning, she wanted to crush the eggs. But, it was not hers to kill, nothing here is crushable. Things here are only crushed. 

Say good bye

My heart is small

My heart is not yet strong 

But it is not fragile 

My heart finds joy in bubbles and animals and blades of grass and smiles and running for no reason and accidents and double-sided tape and expressions with no matching adjectives 

But is it growing 

My heart has long silences 

My heart pauses and gasps for the color 

My heart incapable of breaking -- 

But it is not yet strong

You see, my heart is still growing 

It hasn't begun 

It's begging for another chance 

For silence 

For moments like this 

My heart skips beats and counts it's blessings 

My heart comes close but falls short 

My heart makes dinner 

It tests it's own will 

It can't eat what it cooks

Because the only ingredients are poisonous 

My heart will die

My heart will stop

My heart will one day become strong only to weaken once again 

It will never know when it's full or empty or heavy or careless or captured 

It breaths hot air, sometimes it grasps onto the molecules in sighs and laughs and screams of pain, but it feels nothing 

It watches

It waits 

It cannot participate; its greatest flaw 

It longs for more 

For closeness 

But it's kept behind its cage,

Bones and tissue

Growing, pushing, pushing, kicking, screaming, fists swinging, cursing, rage filled parts until it explodes and yet it stays in the same place. All wasted. It deflates. It can't win. It couldn't win. It's job is existence, but it, itself, cannot live.

My heart is small

My heart is not yet strong

It makes everything 

And then watches the masterpiece til the end. 

But it can't choose the end. One day it stops. 

No kicks.

No screams.

Nothing. 

Floating.

Specs.

Particles...

My heart is growing

My heart suspects and comes with out a plan B. 

My heart grows and grows and grows and grows and grows, until one day, it out grows it's cell. And the good byes mean nothing after the end. Might as well kiss the hands of your lover more times than necessary. 

Say goodbye before it's gone, say goodbye before it's gone.

shit poetry in Japan

"Japanese girls"

Patterned holes in the street call to her with a catastrophe so sweet

Fables and fat dripping into dish water

Soapy salutations

Used to being waited on, pretty girls still have to run to catch trains

high heels clitter clatter

Silence broken by the smattering of her clitorous and sunsets over the east which finally dip pots of left over sticky rice beneath the horizon

bone-deep veneer disguises them

thin fingers left hanging from bed to floor

the distance shorter than before

ribcage calibrated to syncopate tiny breaths

fast love was love

even with a mistranslation

"これ"

as serious as the

drunk phrases we hold on to 

a sort of teetering half-completed collection 

that we’re reminded of by posed photos 

and sweet talk turned sour the day I left the country was the day you left me

documented it, to show other people

now the memory isn’t without other’s eyes

remember, this happened

but that’s anything at all

a bird chirps;

a pencil breaks;

a needle draws blood;

it’s something that happened.

you gave me the luxury of promises i didn’t need

but they were always yours to keep

i was a holding cell by default

the catalyst, to the experiment

not the result

the titanic sank with the whiskey you drank

gulp it down and piss it out 

like the golden promises i did fine without

but

like a dog which returns to its vomit

I’d still let you touch me, without a doubt.