smelling vodka on my breath at seventeen. I say loss
is trauma stealing an entire month from my memories.
Superheroes always have broken hearts and tragic
back stories so maybe I’m doing OK. In my dreams we
are brave enough to leap tall buildings in a single
bound and see through walls and also never lie to
Promise me this: when you finally leave me, you’ll
get creative. Tell me I was more disappointing than
your childhood. Send me your bloody ear with a letter
saying “I’ve got to Gogh. You’re making me crazy.”
I am hard to love but know this much: you are the
only thing I like doing more than writing poems.❞
—Superheroes, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.
Get rid of the old words…
The love I give is tattoo ink
In the way that it permanently stains me
With reminders of all my bad decisions.
“a few bad apples”
my fat ass; the whole fucking
orchard is rotten.
—Wayne Dyer (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
—Stephen King (via dotheyfloat)
I was almost rabid
Would’ve lunged at any thing
thrown my way
carcass, shadow, memory, promise
shell of a man.
I thought it was better
to be loved by a dead thing
than to be left alone.
Then I loved a dead thing
and was completely alone.
you showed up
and suddenly I was embarrassed
of all the poetry I’d written