Love Happens in September

The soft opening of your mouth is the cul-de-sac where I grew up
I want to play outside until the street lights come on
I want to feel the sunburn of your fingernails digging into my back
Claw my clothes off with your vultured lust
Let me be the corpse that I feel like
You won't

Someone downstairs is listening to opera and I don't know why anyone does anything anymore

I want to buy wine from Target and I want to remember what its like to have a conversation
With anyone new
I want to stop bitching out on myself

Today is my recital
I am my own empty seat
I am my own swallowed tears, I am at the piano empty
Because I never wrote the screenplay
I wanted to do it before I died and the sun burning holes in my stockings
Reminds me of my mortality
I am worried, I don't have enough sunscreen
And I don't have enough time and I don't have enough hands to love you

The collective you, as if kisses were something
I could glue to the pages of my scrapbook
My venom is an open book but my heart is an open suitcase

My body is an hourglass that keeps running out on you
My heart is a habit that you keep trying to break

First Position

When I was younger all I wanted was to be the
Mechanical Doll in Act I of The Nutcracker
To be wound up, to move with music and dark silence
To be beautiful, magical, to dance in the middle of a Christmas party
As if I were freshly opened string lights, bright with fire,
Incapable of ever being broken

These days white teeth and slender arms make me everybody's
Favorite ballerina, and there are days when I question the relevance
Of every word that comes out of my hot wet mouth

A plaything needs a personality like a moose needs a hat rack

I keep trying to change myself into someone the grim reaper won't recognize
Change seems necessary for my face, my hair
If I cut off all my limbs I will have just as many excuses
My body is a long story and I don't want to talk about it

Age Difference

Werner Herzog's Nosferatu is playing this Friday at the theater
Last December




Still blossoming into the ever after alpha female
Or the metaphorical daughter that you had to watch over
You lit my cigarette

You're old enough to be my oak tree

But it was also the principal of things

You lit my cigarette
I didn't have a clue as to your current situation and I didn't care


Something about how I wanted Jared Leto to win

I used to drink old fashioned cokes in glass bottles
I used to wear red lipstick
I was old enough to be your two-day-old carnival goldfish

We never talked about Lolita