Child, please look up.
I know you don’t want to listen.
But you will, you will take what suits you.
I know you well.
Stop, wait,
You don’t need to blur the lines.
There is no black and white–
I know you’ve learned that the hard way,
but just wait– don’t shade just yet.

There is a certain grey.
But don’t rush– hush,
Put the paintbrush down.
You don’t need to sin to understand.
Child, I’m sorry you’re so lost.
Take it from me:
You’ll be fine.
You’ll be fine.

Dear Sanity,
In the night, I wake to find myself without your company, but the warmth of the chain about my neck keeps you at the forefront of my mind. The heavy links rake across my flesh searing your disapproval; pulling me to your ankles so that I might kiss them for mercy. Branded at the chest by this heart of yours, though, I am the very antithesis of your will. I was seduced by the comfort of your homogeneous masses and tempted by the fruits of my curiosity. Yet, it is through fire—the deep passions of my essence—that I will be reborn. And you, who I loved through the eyes of others, will HOWL at my betrayal! Then stand upon your mountain peak and bludgeon me with reason so that I might know what your light looks like.  

To what end? So that I might cling to this chain, this keepsake, which I did not need until you bestowed your judgment. Yes, judgment, though you would have me believe it is your friendship, your safety, your sympathy. Like the swelter of a thousand suns you oppress me saying, “Keep quiet your ***** yearning!” So who would know better, the hour of my discontent, than you who watches me, unblinking, during the day? It is here, at the tween of night, that I shed the scales from my eyes and throw off your burden of want—the goals for which you leave me always pining, but never appeased. Is this shirking to seek the dark? So be it. I will cloak myself in blood—for all that I am wrong—and dance in the pale light of the unassuming.
—Pandora

--------------------

And the faces of the homogeneous masses drew forthwith to witness dawn.

In a drawer,
There was found,
A locket with
A minor crown—

Of leaf: laurel,
And shaded night.

When opened up
All succumbed to fright.
For found inside
Was a broken light;

Pandora’s hope
Had lost the fight

i
She was sick of hero's,
of the boys who tried to save her from herself.  
Her world had become a constant blur
of innocent liplocks and hair neatly parted,
of well-made beds and early curfews,
of speed limits and no trespassing signs.  
She was trapped within the parameters of goodness,
condemned to the ideas of sweetness.  
She wanted to succumb to something,
to submit herself to the darkness of a boy who didn't want to be fixed.  It was a realization she had the night she saw him,
truly saw him,
a boy who had been a stranger in a bar
and weeks later became the fixation she couldn't manage without.  

ii
One night he appeared in the doorway of the bedroom,
soft blue light illuminating his face,
nestled behind his nose
and under his lashes.  
The crease of a smug grin forming at the corners of those lips.  
He knew exactly what he did
and it tempted her all the more.  
He was a villain, a cold blooded creature, a criminal.  
His mouth reminded her of the demons in all of her nightmares,
the hooded figures reaching out to grasp her hands
and pull her in with only the gentlest touch
to let her think she was still in control.  
Those haunted sheets and his pouted lips
were enough to keep her stirring until dawn.  
He hadn't even touched her,
but he managed to keep her squirming under the thought of him.  
He was salt in her eyes and sugar on her tongue.  
He had shown her the true meaning of corruption.

iii
And then it was over.  
She wasn't sure they were done,
but she left anyway.  
He screamed and told her to do what she wanted,
but she chose to live.  
His tousled hair had become too messy for her,
his temper didn't exclude her anymore.  
She was not weak,
she was terrified.  
She was drowning.  
And when the sea had finally come for her,
he didn't follow.  
The swells pulled her deep beneath the surface,
invaded her lungs
and the strain on her heart felt like his fingers across her ribs.  
He let the seas foam lap against his toes
and then watched her foam at the mouth,
her pupils dilated,
skin pale.  
She was swallowed by the swift currents,
consumed by bursts of blue,
his eyes no longer defined the color.
He wasn't there.  
Those nights spent over the bathroom sink,
perched on the fire escape,
hidden beneath sheets,
he wasn't there.  
She knew the feeling all too well
and that things lose their shine under water.  
But at least she had found a home in the abyss.

You would figure
such a moment would be burned
into the paradigm of memory
when exactly did I learn
life was no cartoon?
well, it wasn’t one traumatic incident
rather a rushing current of events
a drunk uncle here, a screaming mom there
a belting boyfriend or toy-stealing sister
playmates picked dead last no matter
older boys bullying the younger
teachers who didn’t particularly bother
some cousins had yards and fathers
while others like me had neither
always more chores than fun
and no one ever explained how come
priests were less present and less kind
than the mexican street venders
there’s no specific scene to pause when I rewind
I honestly can’t remember.

It wasn’t at a funeral, by then
though I was young , I somehow knew
life was not all beautiful and true
that those adults who told me what to do
sobbed on dark beds and screamed at phones
then wiped their tears or ****** walls
before reentering the room
their eyes a little more like stone
while I pretended to un-see it all
and kept on playing with my toys, alone.

I can't change.
I can only rearrange
These wayward thoughts
In my brain
To seem
A little less insane.

Playing mind games
In my brain waves,
I'm a slave
To the way I misbehave.

I forgave,
But those memories stay
To haunt me and taunt me
Both night and day.
I think I'm stuck this way.

Bottled rage
Gravity's cage
My daily stage.


I won't engage.

**** this plague
Let it fade.

I drift away.

C.eM. 5.11.14

There's something inexplicable
about the way
they make you feel




nothing.

Happiness is fleeting
but
you are your own mistake
you keep repeating.

one of these nights
might turn out right
if you keep your mouth shut
like the door you're always
finding yourself behind
with your back against the wood,
muscles tensing
as you knew they would.


Nose bleeding-
when is the last time you ate?
It took you an hour to get ready but
no one can see all your hard work
in the shade.

"baby, you look great"
is all you wanted to grace you ears
but you've got too much on your plate
and there are only couples here.

They will pay you no mind
and you will begin to feel
you might have been left behind.

you pretend you aren't hungry
because it seems more grungy.
cigarettes will stain your teeth
and smoke will spin circles at your feet
as you sway alone;

always hanging in the wings
you're looking for another drink
another triple shot
and you sink deeper into
the half-assed hope
that this will be a night
you forgot.

Just more meaningless crumbs
of these evening hours
accumulating into an unusable mass
of dried out nights

exaggerate another fight
you had with your mind-
what will you do when they call you out
for being lower than the grout
in the bathroom
baby face like you just came out of the womb
your knife is duller than
your conversation topic
you're a fake-
From a mile away can you be spotted.

Drained of inspiration
plagued by perpetual consternation
what will you sample next
on your way to a falsified elation.

Spending weeks away dragon chasing-
How long will you be on mental vacation?
They're growing impatient.

C.e.M. 12.21.2014