real life

it takes a toll on you

to wake up

and make breakfast

carry on like nothing

has changed you.

you’re supposed to be the same

person you were yesterday.

but so much can change in a day

and altar your world

into a new dimension.

the one you never imagined

you would be on.

real life can be an illusion

and a denial up until

it weaves its way into

your world and captures

you in its net. you’re caught

now. you can’t shake your legs

or arms. you’re stuck

to swim on earth

or drown in hell. or both.

poets think they know

everything with all the

chips on their shoulders

wearing them down. they

know absolutely nothing.

they live in dreams. real

life is just another

way of killing you slowly

without knives.

In the Middle

Once I was at the end of the love song

crying for years because it was over

before it even began. We were caught

loving the wrong person. I immersed

from my drowning and swam to the

beginning of the line. I sailed across

your poems and floated on your words.

You sent them to me by mail, on out-

dated postcards, you wrote them on

the back of my hand with your

fingertips. I sent you magic and

illusions with one needle on your

arm. We lived in a movie and

recited Shakespeare naked in bed.

You were not even close to being

who I thought you were. I was

too much for you to handle back

then, wanting to do everything

and doing absolutely nothing

about it. I climbed Mont-Royal

in heels and you laughed at

my absurdities. I was spontaneous

and explosive, until I wasn’t anymore.

I bent backwards on words

and the power of your hands.

Now I’m in the middle of something

that will change me forever.

I will never bet that girl again.

I have to be someone I thought

I would never be. Life throws you

these wicked curveballs

and I am catching them,

ready to be stuck here

hoping that it will not get

worse. All this hope

for songwriters and poets

but for a regular woman like me

it’s a waste of my time.

Metropolis

I mostly watched the singer

shake away his age

as it caught up with him

and nothing seemed to impress us

anymore besides one hundred dollar bills

and vodka shots. The youth left us

with our past. Our ten percent shot

at another night of bringing back the

days. All the drunken sailors

tried to get their hands on us

but we have to try so much more

now and drink so much less.

We’re getting sick of the city

and the dirt and the envy.

We’re getting tired of the puddles

and the hurt and the  five dollar coffee cups.

We’re getting upset with the fake news

the killing sprees, the hiding

of ugly humanity. I swear I want

to leave this place and never

look back. Never think about

what language I should speak

first, second guess someone’s

authenticity. I like the vast sky

the view from my window

on my quiet street, for years

I wanted to run from it

and chase the night. Now

I want to sit, enjoy my moments

and never look back to who

I used to be before I met you.

 

 

Intensity

I need the intensity

of going all the way

giggling like a teenager

I do not think I ever grew up

I may look mature

but I told you I feel seventeen forever.

I speak French too much

lose out on the English tone of your voice.

You have all the adjectives I admire in a man

and all the selves that blend so well with mine

we could be like a fine wine

but

do I have to be more precise?

I will not tell you exactly

what you do to me.

let us just say that what I say

is only a mere quarter

of the pull you have

on me, it may be magnetic

kinetic, aesthetic,

diabolic, angelic,

it may get deeper

or not.

Who cares to analyze anymore?

This is just a poem

about layers and layers

of clothes

being removed.

Clothes that turn into words

in a magic world of make believe.

 

Take out the checklist

do I match?

Probably not,

too quirky, too neurotic,

too poetic, too real.

Praise nothing about me

I am vile

disgusting

worthless

useless

I have my period

I hate men

Women treat me horribly

out to stake me

waiting for my breakdown.

You can see how this poem turns out

who seduced who in the end?

who really has the power?

Chrissy, what the fuck, I say to myself

get a grip of yourself

I realize my head is stuck in books

and I never saw a tiny ketchup bottle,

I may be sheltered

but you have no idea

how much protection

I need from the real world.

I just live

by my own heart

and I will die by it

only, this time,

I will have

no regrets

only wishes.

How I want

only you

to grant it

to me.

But sadly, no one can.

 

 

 

Chances

Chances are that I will sell my soul

for some peace

for a room of my own

to eat fruit out of a bowl

but here I am

with my new job

and efficient ways

of being the best employee for the

first time in twenty-one years.

I can carry all the weight

to your room

put my skeletons in the closet for you

if you bring me a cafe latte with a flower on top

omg I am too easy to please

I will call you and tell you

the silliest thing and crack up

laugh at myself like I am the best joke ever

laugh at how you laugh at me.

he hired me before I could resign

and here I am with nothing to lose

I marry my fate

and bend it around

to kiss my needs away.

Chances are you will meet me again

and chances are

you might not.

I hate my urges but without them

I am nothing

but a robot

and if there is one thing

I know about myself

it’s that I never

follow guidebooks

or recipe books

I add my own spice

to life.

Chances are

you know everything about me

before I do.

So I will enjoy my favorite city

and ask strangers to take pictures

of me overlooking the spot

we never made it to.

I am leaving the chances

up for grab.

Once

I videotaped the bridge and the sunset

I wanted to be a director

make movies. I have all these

ideas of how I would begin my movie

the perfect song, kiss, walk,

the sunrise of actors. It feels

as if my dreams keep on copulating

instead of dying. Almost half way

through my life and I feel seventeen.

Stuck at that age that took me

for granted. I love your art and music

and style, the way you kiss me

in the middle of the street. I love your

sixth sense, how you still love her

how you break walls with words

no need to even touch me

you did it first. so masterfully.

I keep on fantasizing about

directing movies, my other lives

coming to life, my poems

ripped up and in the ocean

so you could read them

one day

when you’re lying on the beach

with your beautiful family

and remember

I was just a piece of art.

 

Never

I have one word answers

to statements

that do not get me

trapped under the snow

or hitting trees

speeding down slopes.

I am not even close

to being

who you think I am.

Over a coffee,

I aim to not impress you

with my silent eyes.

Over a drink,

I aim to not impress you

over my drunken innuendos

and real batty lashes.

I never

ever

get a grip

on reality

for if I do,

I will let it control me

in ways that anxiety does.

I would rather live in my head

be in control

half of the time,

accumulate speeding tickets

burn notebooks

and still

you would not be impressed

by my recklessness,

or my playlist

or my grocery list

for you care only

about the softness of my skin,

how I never age,

so, I do suppose,

in that

I could finally impress you

the most.

How you want to seduce

me with your lies,

your brilliant skies,

your magnetic eyes,

all under poetic disguise.

My dad whispered how he loved me

in my dream last night .

You care not for my poetry

or my dark eyeliner

all you care for

is my reality

to be yours

naked

under strange sheets.

I prefer the smell of fabric softener.

My dad said the words

I longed to hear. 

Even in death he knows what 

I need to hear. 

And still I can never be yours.

 

 

June second

the lights are red, but i want to go up

into the sky. drive right through

the pink and purple all night long.

this is my porn. you text me

your naughty, i’ll dream

in the fucking clouds. it’s june

second, two thousand and fifteen,

remember the 80’s? i relive them.

another full moon? do you

really care all that much? stop

howling. i feel it in every cell.

you’re fucked up.

I think my imagination

is so wild

even you

would run away.

but, you stay, you

make me believe

that the sunset

was a masterpiece

and the darkness

its palette.

the moon controls us

like love, we’re

helpless

to its pulling effect.

catch me tonight at

nine pm…its’ my son’s

award ceremony,

but i’ll still be falling

from the sky.

don’t forget to look up

and extend your arms,

even if you don’t see me.

The Sea

I’m just a tad more romantic

hopeless (to be exact)

the two combined

leave vomit on my shimmery and shine

same pants you rubbed

same sex you craved

and then the boxing bell rang loud

while we were in the bliss of all that fun

time to pack the bags

I have my train ticket

do you have the time?

I have my thongs with all the right words

do you have a rhyme?

I have my invites to the latest parties

do you want bits and pieces of my crime?

I confess to nothing

I embrace my sins

count me out

of the nails and pins

on the sleeves of your love

count me in

to the rhythm and blues of your heart

that’s all I wanted from the very start.

You, me, in all that denial

I sleep nude after I wake up

feel the sheets on my skin

as I press redial;

you hate when I call you

say the truth

stick me and you across in that booth

and your touching the letters

on my skin.

I dream in so much color

and waves of the ocean

the subtle drowning in me

wakes me up

I held my breath

from the bottom of the sea.

You might think I am a great storyteller

but I do not/cannot sit for four hours

in misery

reviewing colors and fabrics

with no glasses.

Just lay me down

I might float

or not.

Fresh face

Wrap you up in my lovely lies
lay you down in horrible highs
deceive you with myself
bands that have that
sound
like The Pains of Being…
you could probably fill in the gaps
know how to walk backwards
in a forward world.
I meant to lie only to the
tiny parts that screamed out
but know you’re in
in on my conspiracy
my own warped way
when lights go off
as dark as the forest
the deep ocean
with only the moonlight
guiding me
the place where I recognize you
lower case magic
upper case rules.

So many layers
you can never imagine
how many lights I have shut
how many still flicker
how many highways divide
or
snowstorms collide
you can hear me in the silence
it’s a rare gift
passed on from generation
to generation
but only the few have both
the lock and key
sometimes there is only one
without the other
but when I was high
I saw them both.
Who needs sleep
when you have all this love
these dance moves to show
how I dip
how we fly
I am living in another world
while parked
waiting for
the doors of my dreams
to open.