Friday, February 11, 2011

Poetry I Writed When I Was Younger

She curls up into herself and
cries aloud to the brightness
(why did you put me here)
She is leaking through the cracks in her existence
Smelling beautiful     looking broken
Taking herself into the void          she can be alone
painting her skin with blackness of coal
coal she stole from the fire of another
stealing naked glances at the gods

(i was reading a lot of Gaiman at the time and trying to find myself. Obvs.)

over the underpass, i
passed up the shortcut and shorted the pass

it was horrid oh horrid
but it came to pass
that mama's boys
and hell's angels 
should never do business together

(pretty sure I wrote this at around the same time I discovered Bukowski. Oh CHARLES.)


  1. Hey, that's pretty great poetry! Do you still write any?

  2. THANK YOU RACHAEL. I was a little nervous that people might be mean and tell me it sucked.

    I don't write so much poetry anymore, but I wish I did.