breath orbits {poem}

drug juice leaking down a shaped chin.
eyes swollen 
rolling into the groggy wind.
these alleyways are hot and narrow; it 
is the sentiment from which shadows climb one another
in an errosive collapse.

we partake in animal dances
flask-matted masks, 
bone thin
and wet in the tempered sun.

breath orbits
and dangling tongues, so allowed to take these gleaming words 
then make the watering can fall through the grass
the desert snakes will bake at another time.

cruel paint, moody stabbing the 
riders of the 7:30am train,
the message of milk and desiccated flowers
perched in the washroom on 7th and Lincoln.

we will find fire
flaring and exhaustedly
burning and burning and burning

because the tomorrow astronauts
are floating in duplex capsules,
software riddled with bugs and miscalculations.
they made promises of herb gardens on Mars;
a potato from Valles Marineris.

I pull you tight,
tight as ever.
taste, with me, the rain.

greentext @lucy

When Lucy overdosed
we were all in Kentucky
at the bowling alley.

Chloe's breath smelled 
of cucumber water as she 
made space for her words
above Lucy
on the bowling alley floor.

We scrolled through Lucy's Apple Watch
it had called 911 18 minutes ago.

We all stood above her body eating french fries
posting @omg.lulz.finsta

"damn, theres no signal here."
"just hotspot off Lucy's watch."
"is that how you're able to post?"
"hells yeah."
"my fries are cold, you think they'll reheat them?"
"dude, it's Kentucky - what do you think."

Trina wandered off with her cold fries
"cool, I got on. This is going straight to my rinsta."
"wait, guys....our Uber is here."
"what should we do?"
"well, we just can't leave her, I mean - right?"
"you guys do you - this Uber aint sticking around long."

We all left
Lucy on the floor of a bowling alley in Kentucky

It's been years since that night with
Lucy.
>> greentext
> drove to mountins
> been laying in 
> snow for hrs
> waiting/crying for another storm
> to bury the rest of me
> don't be me
> be a good lil human
> luv ppl / help ppl / help all lucys

Dust Has Collected {poem}

dust has collected
on the shelves within her room

and I move so very quietly
in the dark
lifting my legs over the
tall stacks of books.

I have stopped 
eating during the day
now only drinking licorice tea
from white
porcelain tumblers I leave on the
floor when I'm finished.

She spends the morning taking
pictures of the neighbor's car
parked on the street
from different angles.
She doesn't say why.

It is December today
the harbored boats roll 
upward in the high tide

I am having a very hard time
believing anything 
is solid or laughing
or real at all or 
anymore. I've cut through sheets of colored
constructions paper
realizing how much I really loved her.
I will not find her
I won't even try
in the strange holiday from
which we push our shoulders down
and slouch our earthly bodies forward

taste the air
if you get a chance.
stop and follow the sunset
if you get a chance.
reach your hand out to touch the face of someone you love
if you get a chance.

And of Ms. Rose Blak,
she has a castle in El Monte, near
the Ralph's on Ernest Pkwy
her makeup is always running down her cheeks
she wants to swim in the ocean at night
and will drive you to Santa Monica pier.
Things won't be easy, she drives recklessly
in her Cadillac svt. she will tell you 
how she never finished paying for her car
and that the bank is after her. she will
smoke with the windows rolled up. She will drink
Soylent Green from plastic bottles and apply 
lipstick on the freeway. 

I'm not with her anymore
but I never returned her keys, cassette tapes or guns
I put those in a box in my closet
labeled 'love'.

JoyLights {poem}

JoyLights

sacklock and tempered the reflection
forward they run
arms frightfully
rumpled
rinsing their buckets with
praire-bleach

should she call out the name
that will burn the sky?

we surrender our strength
with balled up hands.
warm
bleach cascading
over our shoulders

the memory of
a moth for which struggled
to dry its own wings in our rain

armies clumping near the
nothern borders
so that the passage
shall not be sought
and the millions
traveling North with only
shackles and a mask
need not look up into the amber fog
they too
have the negligent acid
fumbling down thier arms

but whispers have
a way of transcending
into fists
as do eyes in their way
of deconstructing
the soft material of breath.

I have never seen
you before
but I have felt
the distance you have left behind
the surface tension of the water
has been restored

I am tired of believing in you
but I am bored
and have nothing better to do.

And thats when it hurts
because the water is no
different within your mouth
or mine.

The Distant Jaw {poem}

The Distant Jaw

mascara whispers
between the small spaces
in your mouth.
I will not let you
out
I will not let you run
back into the
forest.

because when you said
you
were an angel
the flashlights were immediately
pointed down to the ground

we understand how the
lights
hurt your eyes

we knew to immediately
operate on an
encrypted channel
and run our
external communications
through
an international mud-switch.

we gave you your distance
although
we crowded you in a circle
I told them
to put their
weapons down.
They did so.

I knew, the others did not,
to avoid looking
you directly in the eyes.
it was information I was obligated
to share,
but chose not to.
they have never encountered
an ETB before.

within 14 seconds
I saw wisps of heat
drape from
your mouth. they rose into high
cast foliage, burning the leaves
as they gathered light
and floated back home.

you taught me
how to smoke
in the rain.

wearing a silk
smock and
I have laced my boots
all the way
up my thighs.

I taste the motors
of your
pray-things
following you closer
making your
teeth
straight
and your scars become mine.

immutable dystopia,
I want to go back to
California with you
drive around Sunset with
the top down
singing among the wretched humility
of my permanence
so you can see what we've become.

lost is heaven
within your heart,
faith sudden in
the morning bloom of desert blythe.
take this door
upon its open
allowing the light
back in.
so to, fill our Ghost
from crater steam
with your ephemeral heart.

we are the falling water
into the repository
swollen
of quick moving clouds
and
lightless light,
for what dreams dance
if our
children cannot laugh
in the
cadence of God.

Blyth Never Said That {poem}

Blyth Never Said That

the fitting room was too small
I had tried on 7 dresses
none of them
were working.
I left target, leaving my starbucks half empty on the dressing room floor
and so what I thought
banging through the exit of the store

sitting on the curb of the parking lot
I applied another coat of nailpolish
my uber driver said he couldn't find me
and left

it was going to be dark soon and target
security kept asking me questions
about the dressing room
"no, I don't know why the dresses in the changing room are all torn up"
"no, I didn't throw coffee over all the walls"
"no I don't think that's a puddle of blood in the corner"

it was time to go, they'd figure it out soon enough
I made my way across the street to
an auto repair shop.
and somehow managed to startup
old orange van with a for sale sign in the windsheild

more glitter and nail polish at
the intersection of jefferson & venice

I haven't responded to her text in over 36 hours
the cops will be
looking for me soon
the orange van has a bed
and a sink
I pull over near the salton sea
to drink water from the
little sink. I curl my toes
against the shag carpet and dance to music on
pandora

Cornelius said there was
enough mescaline left over at the Library
I arrived to late and didn't want to
wake her
the mescaline was in a wine bottle with
a post it attached that read "DRINK ME"
I did

and passed out in the back of the
orange van
the pink stars threatened eternity
in the aqua sky
I wrote a poem on my
bicep with yellow marker
and shaved my head with the side
of a broken bottle

tomorrow
at the dollar tree I'll pick up
top ramen, colored ballons and a few
cans of 50c beer.

~ echo.syszygy

Tildy Found The Blue Light {poem}

Tildy Found The Blue Light


Tonight another bird sky, orange blue
wooden twitch plaque
concrete steps
blue lake and a peach tree
what difference does it make if
the
instructions have been made to run backwards


what steps pressed
have been laid
by those
who no longer walk

shadows on sale 1/2 off
and all the monsters running through the aisles
clapping
stomping until all the shadows are sold

they hang them from buildings
they hide them near the
edge of town
like puddles the monsters clomp
through their shadows
like the most unimportant kings before
tiny battles near the
edge of the roaming gardens

that spin prince is dancing sideways
in the subway terminal
his wings scraping the ceiling dusted in black
and some might think
he is the angel of darkness
how he laughs while he dances

mondo-fly
with pink blood on her chin
water swords have been taken from the delicate membrane of lyon
he won't tell; just be back before the
vain-gels wake

but for now
in this very moment
the spin prince
dances and laughs
on the white tiles and iron tracks
near the German subway