Starting In The Stars

You could never tell by the way that she carried herself that she was a fallen star.
Looking at her impatient beauty,
too sudden to be still,
could you have noticed that she was from another world?

A world where fish,
fish swim in the pools of her eyes,
Eyes, in a land where people didn't look with their eyes and saw with their hearts,
Hearts that were phoenix’s.
Freshly-broken, and still beating.
Moving on without movement or momentum.

Just

Keep

Going.

Her grace still carries,
but of a different culture,
we mistake it for loneliness.
When one falls from grace,
we fall into the black whole of the milk way,
drown in the cosmos she used to sip,
and surrender into the abyss of space.
The only final frontier she knows,
are the ends of her hands.

Hands guide her through this new, strange universe,
collapsing on a shoulder to heal,
on a face to cover,
on a book to open,
on a chapter to close.
Her life can't be described in poems or prose,
but she tries to capture the essence of everything she lost.

She shined so bright that the sun burned with envy,
and the moon howled at her youth,
an asteroid came pummeling down on her dreams.
Crashing her out of the blue,
and into the white.

White lies of our world.
A world where fish swim in aquariums,
and eyes are placeholders for contact lenses,
and broken hearts never mend.

Every night she turns to the stars,
hitchhiking across the sky trying to find
the light of home.
Every night she sings to the moon,
and apologizes for nothing,
but being afraid of everything new.

Familiar fantasies are common
as the flu,
and she? must be sick.

Sleeping away the day to find
a castle on a cloud.
She knows she must,
but she doesn't want to wake up.

She doesn't want to leave,
and see this world of simplicity and sadness.
See this world of porridge and pain,
of starvation and gluttony.
This world is smudge on the reflection of the universe.

Stars belong in the sky,
not on a cover of a magazine.
Not on the streets,
and certainly not in this world.

For you see,

Fallen stars never stop shinning,
we just stop paying attention.

STARVE WARS:

Dear Mr. Disney

Dear Mr. Disney,

After all the pinky-promises
and karoke night's I wasted singing " A whole New World"
I now realize that you have plagued me
like breast cancer.
I've tasted you're forbidden fruit,
Only now do I know that you're apples
are poisioned and rotten to the core.
I look back on the entire two shelves of my closet
dedicated to you're slutty Halloween costumes,
and my three shelves filled with the "25th ANIVERSY MOVIE ADDITION! GET IT BEFORE IT GOES BACK TO THE DISNEY VAULT!".
I think of all the summer vacations I wasted
being drowned in you're "dias ex machina"
and at this rate?
I'm rooting for Cruela DeVille,
Because there are 104 problems with 101 dalmations.

You've fed me hand to mouth,
brainwashed me clear of thoguhts,
and made me Princess Perfect. or so I belvied.
You listed out what a true princess should be.
Frigile enough to brake by a pea under a matress
And not forgetting to add in "Sleepy's. For the rest of you're life..."
You've taught me many life long lesson
of romance and radience.

The true lessons behind every disney movie:


echem.

"If you fall in love with someone, stalk them and genetically modify yourself for them. After all, why be a beautiful enchanted mermaid princess, when you can be human?"


"Being the fairest in the land is more important than a relationship with your step daughter."


"True love is when a hairy-monster beats down you're door and says
IF YOU DON"T EAT WITH ME YOU DON'T EAT AT ALL
it also means that he wants you to be thin"


"It's important to be the fairest of them all. Don't go in the sun. Just stay in the kitchen."
"Speaking of, if you need help cleaing the dishes, invite in some rabid animals to help."


"If everyone wants to kill you, that's a good sign. it just means that you're the prettiest".


"If you're ugly you can be the hero, but you will still never get the girl."


I give up.

I should just wait in a tower
for some guy I don't know to save me
and then marry him.

Because love isn't something that grows.
If two people are beautiful they should be together.
And if you're not beautiful?
Well, you can fly around London breaking into little boy's nursury's and telling them
"YOU CAN FLY! YOU CAN FLY! YOU CAN FLY!"

But really: you're just saying that
It's ok to run away from all your problems.
life is botox, taxes and death.
Eventually you will grow fat and undesirable
and you are just as well off as a disney villian.

Or, you can always hit you're head
and jump down a rabbit hole.
Or smoke pot. That works too.

Fairygodmothers may grant wishes,
but what about their dreams?

So the next time you kiss a frog in hopes that it turns out to be Prince Charming,
I hope you get warts.

Or even worse,
he ends up being a prince and you live happily ever after.
Becasue after happily ever after?

Is seven kids running around,
fearing a dragon or something like that.
Another lonely night where "Prince Charming" is off rescuing another princes.
Seriously, is there really only one Prince in the world?

Choke on the apple core,
prick you're manicured hand on a spindle,
get locked up ni a tower,
turn into a beast,
lose your voice,
I don't care.
GET LOST.

Write a movie about that,
and then come talk to me.
Because from this piont on?
I am DONE drinknig the koolaid.

No matter how cool you're new pixart film looks,
I will not give into youre depiction of a another
damsel in distress,
awaiting her prince.

So Dear Princess,
Get off you're lazy butt and slay the dragon yourself.
I heard E-harmony works pretty well,
or better yet
walk off into you're own damn sunset.
Looking Amazing and doing it on your own.

Becuase you're worth it.

Strength

I have a theory;
Those who choose to eat are weak.
But I don't feel strong.

Scientifically proven:
strength is in numbers.
So when I put two fingers in my throat,
and everything is purged on a platter of perfection:
I don't feel strong.

It's a fact that
strength is the fall of a thousand men.
with a pinch of hubris, and a dash of self-control.
But I have no cntrol, no love, and no faulters.

Strength is earned, not granted.
I guess I'll jsut have to keep starving,
Keep hurting,
Keep cutting,
Keep crying,
Keep lying,
And most of all,
Struggle for Strength.

Strength in numbers invisible

Thorn

It stuck with him like a thorn in his side.
She twisted it in his wounds and tended to it
with lemon juice.

Because when Life gave her lemons,
she burned life's house down with lemonade.
She makes the sweetest things toxic to the touch.
Her kisses are death
but he egarly lurks towards them becasue he knows
We're all going to die eventually.
Sooner now than later.
a few seconds is all it takes
to say goodbye to one's we loved,
one's we thought we loved
and one's who never loved us back.

She didn't mean to be crued as oil,
slippery were her thoughts
slick was his.
Idealy they were ment for each other.
But the puzzle peices didn't fit up right:

He was a puzzle
and she was a painting.
They were a time bomb egar to explode
and wipe out the earth
scorching it black.

Volcanic rock hard hearts
and still beating.

So when rocks break and fragment into rivers,
she drowned in hers and he floated downstream.
Pastels and black overalls
can't bandage up a fire put out.

Flames dance like people and he is neither
flame nor fling
He is only a man.

"Do you still love me?"
She said.

He truns to her
Quoting the "raven"

Take thy beak from my heart
and thy thorn from of'th my door.

And she did,
her tounge as dark as a raven
"Nevermore."

Flicker

She's always had a thing for fire
because when she was young and they were supposed to tell her
"don't play with matches or you'll get burned",
instead they handed her the pack and said
"If you want to see the light, then light it".
She looked like Beauty,
but she talked like the Beast
and played with fire like it was the rose.
Burn marks define her
Because fire leaves scars
lighter than the lines of a broken heart.
Fire smooths over surffaces.
it hurts,
hurts but you get over it.
Because fire?
you can put it out in a second,
but a heartbreak will never burn out.

So when they were supposed to tell him to
"bring her home by eight or else"
H went and told her that
"He had hotel room eight locked and that she better not scream or else".

She was too strong to tell him that she was fragile,
she was too shy to tell him that the lighest touch could break her.

And when she brok and he cut himself on her glass eyelashes,
he cut her with glass.

So when she need to hear
"it's ok to not be ok."she heard
"what were you wearing the night that you were raped?"

And thats why she struck the match in the back of the MOTEL 6 and became a human candel in the wind.
No.
Not because of all the things we put her through.
No.

Acording to her epitaph:
"Some people just want to watch the world burn"

If You Don't Mind I'm Going To Cry Now

If you don't mind
I'm going to cry now.
I'm going to turn into a ball,
roll into the shoadows,
Extend the Nile,
Become Taylor Swift and sing about
How much you hurt me,
But then I'l let you do it again becasue I want another platnium album.

Excuse me while I go cry now,
I'm going run under the sheets
and hide from my feelings.
Punch my pillow with a printed out picture of you on it,
but then relize?

That picture is me.
And conitnue to punch it.

Paint Isn't All That Pretty

She had this odd obsession with paint.
So odd that it evened out her normality’s,
Divided up her deformities
And substituted her qualities in a way
That she kept a paintbrush in her hand at all times.

She drenched her fingernails in every plaster possible,
spelling out a phrase she knew all too well
"LET’S PAINT THE TOWN RED".

Little Miss. Interpretation took red
To seriously and painted everything
EVERYTHING
Obscure.

Paint dripped from her chin
Like ambrosia dripped from the sky
And fell onto the mouths of gods
Suckling on symbolism.

She painted a portrait
Of herself
And left it blank.
Titled it "PAINT"
And hung it in the corner of the gallery upside down
So that way everyone knew the girl who
Didn’t even know herself.

She bends hangers in her hands
And holds out
"Look mommy, modern art".

Taking every joke to seriously
Yet taking herself not serious at all.

She cries paint.
She inhales it into her bloodstream,
the black tar on her lungs is just a canvas
like this world is a canvas
and she is the only one who discovered invisible paint.

So while you are all listening to this poem,
she is painting.
And you never notice because you think
she's a painting herself.
So ugly that you called her a masterpiece.

Because Art?
Is what we call everything we don't understand.

"911, What's Your Emergancy?"

"911, what's your emergency?"

Hello? Yes. I'd like to report a loss. A loss of something.

You see, I lost myself.

I met this man who said that if he took my regrets he would give me hope.

So I gave him the tear I didn't cry when the man I loved left me.

I gave him the black dress that I didn't wear to my mother's funeral that I never went too.

I gave him the address of the hotel where I didn't lose my virginity, and gave him the name of the alley way where I did.

I gave him the corsage I never got from when I got stood up at prom.

I gave him the kiss I never got in the rain.

I gave him the good bye monologue I never got to perform for my mom in the hospital.

He gave me a key.

He told me "25th and 73nd avenue. cross the lake and walk the block and follow my intuition."

It led me to a shed on the outskirts of a toy's imagination:

Doll sized with a lock.

Opening I found....

Nothing.

I wasn't sure what to do with it... So in the meantime I stored my memories there.

I put in the hug I gave the love of my life when he came back.

I put in the flowers I left on my mother's grave a week after her funeral.

I put in the diary and the poems I wrote about that alley way.

I put in the picture of me and my best friend from prom.

I put in the weather report that said it would rain tomorrow.

I put in the good bye monologue I shared with a stranger about my mom.

I put in all my memories I ever burdened.

And I left.

I forgot where it was; I can't find the man again.

I can't regret what I can't remember.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Hello? Yes I'd like to report a loss of self.