patterns
echoes
come back to me like a boomerang

I haven’t seen you in clarity
in a long time

a horse race track
and I am galloping, number 9,
with blinders on the sides of my eyes

running to run, not
running to win, just
running for running
away

I thirst for distance, yet
recognition
it’s easy to take one step too far away
it’s not easy to stay
it’s easy to regret anything

still, maybe I am barefoot at your door
when the neighbourhood is asleep
I dreamt you and my best friend fell in love
and she didn’t know about us
you drank lemonade and held hands
a perfect summer romance

I haven’t seen you in so long
but I saw you last week

your name is famous
to an ice rink,
to the sky I spoke to today
it echoes, even in a field

or perhaps
just in my head
brain, batting its lashes
at your name

it echoes all the same

blue
the colour is always blue
when I want something
when Father won’t answer me
my pillow

my curtains, but they’re swept to the sides and the blinds are up
the sky is white
I’ve never seen the sky so white
it looks sick
the branches look violent, like they are deprived of attention
everything looks sick

that tree I can see, means so much to me
when I feel something, I pretend it is feeling the same thing
like impatient the other day, it must’ve been too
with no leaves come past springtime
it makes me blue

the colour is always blue
when I’m in love
blankets
sometimes my eyes
when I ask Father to dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow and he replies
“maybe Wednesday, not sure”
blue is the cover of the book of poetry I had written
and abandoned
blue is sadness
blue is the colour of giving up
sometimes hope

blue is the colour of people’s hair in my nightmares, when I get so frustrated their hair isn’t brown or blonde and I try so hard to change it,
it’s always going to be blue
and I wake up from thinking too much

most of my wardrobe
polkadots and stripes
shades on my canvases
I use blue
like it’s mine
like it’s me

my favourite colour is blue
it has always been blue

the sun oozed under my eyelids until I couldn’t keep them shut any longer

I laid there and heard the silence of my house in the morning

there were birds and they sung songs that made me feel heartsick

I didn’t have a hangover

Sam told me, in the most nonchalant way, that he spoke about me to someone I deeply admire and they like my music

first time I watched Tangled and I wanted to punch the mother in the face but I couldn’t because she is a cartoon

Lyra and I both had tender tummies and painted our nails like a rainbow

baths are beginning to feed into my sick games of numbing myself

blatant malnourishment

brash abandon of my self-worth  

my mind wobbled over to the fact that someone I deeply admire likes my music and that I must be more noticeable than I think I am

maybe that’s not true though

I swear my dog died about ten times today

I am a plant and this couch is my pot

Am I noticeable?

when I eat too much and feel bloated, I just pretend that I’m pregnant and sometimes even talk to my stomach as if there was a fetus inside of it

I don't think many people do those kinds of things when they're alone

a french accent is beginning to fit me better than an english one, like finding an old dress in a closet and surprising yourself in the mirror

I talked to myself all day because - loneliness

have you heard the wind stirring like a whisk in a bowl of raw egg
there isn’t one chief direction it blows
it’s everywhere
over roof tops, through each blade of grass, leaves, your hair, your skirt, your skin hurts
cold
blush bitten
soft to scraped
there is this murmuring noise that is too difficult to block out
because it stops - all of a sudden
then begins again
with no real rhythm
like a pulsating addiction
trying to get your attention
it’s me
it’s me
it’s me!
why aren’t you listening?
why won’t you look at me?
hello?
I’m still here
I’m still here
I’m still here!
why are you leaving?
where are you going?
hello?
it’s me
why are you ignoring me?
I’ll snap this tree and shatter your window
I’ll cut the telephone pole wires
I’ll crack cement deep enough for you to trip in
what do I have to do for you to notice me?
hello!
it’s me
it’s me
it’s me!

knew the other
like we knew the sky
I was often rainy grey
you were often the perfect summer day

made love
on three different occasions
in total, five times
it was kept secret
the last time was more remarkable
than any other intimate night

surrendered ourselves
to fate

will never stop loving each other
even when I hate
all that exists

are timelessly compatible
but it wouldn’t make sense
and it’s not the time for that
though we are timeless

are nothing
together
and everything  
because of it

will see each other again
probably in a new country
a new continent
that is almost a fact to me

will never stop loving each other
that is a fact to me

there are loose leaves
at the bottom of my teacup
I rarely finish drinking the thing
- instead I stare through the dark transparent liquid
at barely-floating twiggy tea leaves that
escaped from the bag
I am forgetful
and unforgiving of myself
I am too easily entranced by
lights and thin branches that dance above muddy grass
my eyes see things breathe
like marbled floors and brick buildings
I am so enraptured by rabbit fur
and tree bark
rabbits prance along the neighbourhoods
and I love the game of seeing how close I can get to them
before they leap away

when I think of bliss,
I think of not knowing what is coming next
more even, not caring

when I think of bliss,
I think of running after rabbits
or petting a tree
I do these things when no one’s looking
so no one catches the crazy in me

there are loose coffee grounds
at the bottom of my mug
caffeine kills me
and I love the taste
of the cruelty
but my body is hurting
again
like last year
where fainting and falling and confusing my words in conversation
arose every time I felt an anxious feeling
nudge its way in deeper
maybe it’s just way of giving up
my body surrendering in complete so that I feel full effect
of how badly I’ve treated it
it’s hurting again
so much that sometimes I can barely get out of bed
or get off the bus
and walk the trek home in the nippy night

I see rabbits prance along the neighbourhoods
and oh look, I am repeating myself
again
I hardly notice because my head is hurting
like there are a million and one hurricanes
inside of it
less of a crash and more like a rush
there is a difference between headaches
and light headedness
both hurt though
still I’m ashamed I’m lightheaded all the time
there is a weakness in it
that only frail people can relate to,
the scatterbrains, the unconcentrated, the anorexics, the cancer patients
the sick-of-some-sort
what am I?

I’ll see you when my pockets fill
with money and boredom and love that spills
out, flooding streets,
roads, fields, highways, sky
there’s endless width and length
and space that spreads so far
between two hearts that never blink when
eyes are clear and mouths make smiles
between us,
two hearts that met in perfect age
in date, in term, in season, in phase
I guess,
it’s up to loss,
I guess, it’s up to luck
maybe to the extent of giving up
or, I hope,
to the extent of dedication
not so firm, just light
like effortless rays of delight
and stars and space and the milky way
- it’s honest to say
I want to see you yesterday

I’ll see you if a wish comes true
I’ll make your bed and lay with you
sunsets kill worthlessness in the summertime
and nighttime is my favourite here
the moon and I made friends last year
I’ll introduce you to Her Majesty, I’ll introduce you to
our River Valley
my fingers crave your shoulder blades
the muscles,
warmth,
squishy skin I love to hold
and if you saw the bunnies hop, your mouth would drop,
your eyes would pop

my goodness, I’m losing my sense of strength
I’m so used to telling myself I need the restraint
all the time
my god, all the time
from glory & cheer & bliss
and most of all, waning to kiss and kiss
and kiss you
it hurts to want so much, so bad
it hurts to want what I can’t have

my hopes take a swim like
flags in the wind
there’s not one real thing that tells me
you love me
I say this because I’m not sure if intuition
is real
I think we just like to make things up to feel
wanted or worth it
or divine, even just a little bit
there’s not one real thing that tells me
I love you
but this scope of time and distance
tells me our version of the word
"us"
has no ambit
there is no measure
no limit
and sun is just as great as us,
and we are just as great as air
it’s impossible to express
because what we have is so rare

it’ll be shaved legs and summer dresses
without cardigans
sunkissed hair, skin, eyes even
though you’ll never know, I wonder,
would your eyes burst out of their sockets
like rockets
if you saw that much of my skin
under healthy light?
instead of naked in your bed
I’m untouchable,
a fantasy, barefoot in a meadow
skin so wanted
- though she’ll be wearing hers
blatantly and ready
for you to have,
smoking a cigarette she says is her
last
because
‘she’s only smoked three
this week’
she’s proud, sure she is
though you’re not even sure you care at all
and the sun makes the day longer
the moon makes the night as romantic
as Paris
and you’ll get along
even though you don’t smoke
and she doesn’t know what it means
to not need you
and she doesn’t know what it means
when you’re with and crave the skin
of another woman
- like me for instance -
but you’ll get along
like sea turtles or baby pandas playing
under sheets or
spontaneously in your kitchen
weaving breaths
weaving beats
an effortless orgasm
then heavy sleep
because you two know what it’s like
to know each other that well
yeah,
you’ll get along  
for months to come

there are vanilla scented candles
and plaid scarves,
acrylic paints of every fucking colour
and wool socks,
a closet full of pretty dresses
and a bookshelf full of good reads
but I’m not happy

there is laughing
there is smiling
there is feeling good
sometimes
but I’m so unsatisfied
with what I’ve got
though I seem to have just about
everything

I have a good mother
I have friends that care
I have blankets
I have good teeth
I have rubber boots
some people say I have nice legs
I have compassion
I have the drive to create
I have trees
I have long hair
some people say I have kindness
I have a bus pass
I have a new job
I have flexibility
I have enough money
some people say I have talent
but I’m unappreciative
and hard on myself  
still

there are booked gigs
and improv shows,
interesting conversations
and instruments,
trees and leaves and twigs
and pinecones,
the sky,
the zoo,
the cafes
but I get insecure most of the time

there are long hot baths
and biting nails,
then painting nails,
then repainting nails
and biding time,
then hating time,
then being okay with time,
there are long stares in the mirror
sometimes glares
sometimes there are puffy eyes
there is frustration
in my fingers
in my head
in my voice
at the piano
on stage
being vulnerable in a crowd of cool actors and musicians
fear of being seen
fear of being unseen
fear of doing it WRONG
fear of looking stupid
looking ugly
looking pathetic
sounding stupid
sounding ugly
sounding pathetic

there are dreams of leaving
this city
this head
these people I have known
for what seems like forever
there are dreams of healing
and loving my skin
and the natural amount of fat
that is underneath it
there are dreams out there
there are so many of them
that I’m afraid to wish
that I’m afraid to think of
from caution of them not happening
from caution of disappointment
and loneliness
and neediness,
then purposelessness

there is wanting
and wanting
and wanting
something better
I don’t know what
just something better
but waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for it to come to me
instead of
trying
and going
and getting
it myself

I am one of the lucky ones that has a high sensitivity to malignancy
I still wear it myself like a cape in the cold
but I can detect a sick person almost right away
some say that’s not very nice to say
though I’d rather know who’s a waste of my time than find out later when I’ve invested my heart & soul into the person
that’s part of what makes me a sick person,
investing myself too much in other people
and isn’t it funny
how we forget about these people that meant so much to us
once
obsession has its terminus
there are cusps a person trips off of that leave them falling,
spiralling into a new obsession or phase or life
or numbness
that’s why memory is so beautiful
even if it hurts a lot
it reminds us we are never going to be the same as we used to be
there’s something peaceful about that
though the sick find it tormenting

coffee drizzles
it’s tasty
& comforting
there’s too much snow
it won’t stop snowing
the window is getting boring
all I can think about
is the muffin I just ate
& what it will be like to be
home again
where all I think about
are the things I’ve just eaten
& sometimes why I haven’t
really left
my hometown yet
& not just for another getaway trip
but for good
I’ve always thought
a grey day
is the perfect metaphor
for how I feel most of the time
but so does everyone else
so I am just like
all of those other boring people
with boring lives
like this window
& the mother with the four
very plain looking kids
three tables down
& the muffins lined up
on the counter top
for boring people like me to buy
as they wait
for a plane to come to
carry them to a whole
new world
where routine doesn’t exist
only margaritas & surf’s up
or else,
to carry them back home
back to reality
back to functioning like
a complete robot
in the safety of
fear
there is a plane waiting to take off
just sitting on the runway
I wonder when it’ll get going
I wonder where everyone inside of it
is going
& where I am going
& what I am doing
here
instead of living
I watch snow fall out of a window
when it could soak me up
& give me a reason to sit
by the fireplace
with blankets, tea & a book
whether I am alone
or with a lover, friend, cat or dog
I can see
how that sounds more boring
than sitting in an airport
eating muffins
but it is exciting
to me
because it is happiness
to me

I miss using words
like acrylic paint
I miss the strokes
my mind would create
but nothing feels
as good as peace
there isn’t one word
that can give that kind of release

there, your bed is rocking
as it cradles another woman
beneath your chest
lips beneath your lips
I’m not sure if I care or not
I do a little bit
but I signed up for this without hesitation
a part of me wonders if there was hesitation
in your head
when you heard the front door squeak open
and my bedroom light turn on,
then quickly go out as I shut the door behind me
you’re not loud at all
but it’s 12:47
and I knew you were seeing her tonight
I knew you don’t usually fall asleep this early
I knew I would be coming home to this
I knew I’d have to face what I thought I’d be fine facing
but the ativan is kicking in
boy am I glad I brought it with me
and I’m not sure if I can hear her moaning
or if that’s just a car vrooming past my window outside
a lot of people call this kind of situation
fucked up
or extremely strange
I don’t feel fucked up
maybe I feel a little strange
I’m just starting to question
so much,
everything
it’s healthy but it’s hurting
not as sharp as betrayal hurts,
because I’m not being betrayed in any way
it’s just the fogginess of confusion  
that makes you not know where you’re going
and it’s that familiar stagnancy and going-in-circles routine
that has begun to wring my head around
and my heart too, ever so slightly
but I’ll sigh instead of cry this time
not because I’m forcing back tears
but because I really don’t need them right now
and I’m okay
as long as I’m still wanting to live
and truth be told,
I am still wanting to live
because I need nothing but myself, really
that’s the truest truth there is
I’m fine, though a bit torn
but I’m fine and that’s basically all that matters

after awhile,
after a few bad weeks,
you begin to feel this slight comfort in discomfort
you believe you’re safe with feeling uncomfortable
your gut is telling you
“I don’t actually feel safe”
but you tell it to shut up and that if you just keep pretending that everything’s okay, everything will become okay
you feel like a drama queen when everything isn’t okay
because you know it is a FACT
that ‘every little thing is gonna be alright’
the thing is,
you can’t be comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time
if you think you are, it is a lie you are telling yourself to avoid something much deeper inside of your stupid little broken heart
it is like placing scotch tape over a gunshot
you are either comfortable
or you are uncomfortable
but there is always a story about yourself behind discomfort
it starts with an old memory
and reminds you of a deeply rooted insecurity
and then usually, you decide to distract yourself with something else because actually
recognizing a deeply rooted insecurity is sickening and scary
but that just digs its root in deeper
to feel comfortable is to be comfortable with yourself
these days, I’ve been finding myself in a lot of emotional discomfort,
hoping to spring out of it like a rocket or something
but when I get my chance, all I want to do is cry because I’m not ready to feel the wind
upon my face or see just how beautiful the sky can be
there is a part of me that still
wants to kill myself or hurt myself or forget myself
and feeling comfortable with myself seems impossible because I’m too much of a wuss to
face such a terror
to conquer demons with two little fists held up by two bone thin wrists
“I am not strong”
I tell myself
but I AM fucking strong
I keep dipping into feeling uncomfortable and feeling comfortable again
it’s emotionally draining to be soaring up so high and then falling to the cement and
breaking your limbs
the goodness in me says “I want to feel comfortable again”
but the demons in me say, “okay, then you’d best toughen up because I’m like facing pure
hell”
you get beat up
a lot
a hell of a lot
sometimes I wonder when I’ll stop fighting
if I ever will
I think it comes in rushes
everything accumulates and collects and throws itself at you
and you’ve got two little feet to stand on, so you may fall in the mud
it’s just up to you if you’re alright with being icky dirty or not
that’s what comfort is

and you drape down the noise
with doubt
or sex
or legitimately making yourself bleed
but it wants none of these things
just to be heard
it's got a meek little voice, so you have to stop every other loud thought in your head just so you can hear it
it doesn't tell stories like your mind
it doesn't abusively yell at you like your little demons
it doesn't want to hurt you
but when you're not listening, it's going to bark because it doesn't understand why you'd want to take away the blood it provides for you
it says
"you're perfectly alright, so get the fuck over it already
and laugh or something!
stop stealing my blood! I'm trying to keep you alive.
I'd like some goddamn appreciation here.
it's not that I don't love you, it's just that you're being a complete idiot right now and I just have to let you know that you're just
so
much
better
than that!
see that. you know that. so be that.
I love you, I see you, I am you
trust me
let go
you're fine."
it is the only thing that matters the most
but we drape it down
with doubts and drugs
and steamy fucks
and vomit, blood
a mind full of mud

glass castle,
somebody save me
I feel like
everybody always
n e e d s  m e
when will I
b r e a t h e?
come inside & keep warm
in my glass castle,
somebody save me
it looks
s t a b le
lotsa food on the table
but of course
you know
glass is
f r a g i l e
it breaks when my heart
a c h e s
glass castle,
somebody save us
I’ve let you all down

we make things
we paint
we write
we sing
we play
we act
we create something beautiful
that has never ever existed before
we are unique
we are brilliant
we are healers
we make people feel depth
we have such potential
but we never see any of that
we just create
and create
and create
mindlessly & mindfully
continuously
hopefully
but we rarely stop and see the effect
our creations have on other people
once in awhile, someone will tell us,
“you are inspiring
your lyrics describe the way I feel inside
I have never felt this understood in my whole life”
and we are deeply touched
sincerely
and we are inspired to help more and more
and we create more and more
and forget more and more
the effect our art has on other people
we are humble
we are genius
yet incredibly daft sometimes

the thing about me is
I have a very big heart to share
and I’ll probably still love you
even if you hurt me
I trust easily
I forgive easily
and disappointment can only be given to yourself, so other people aren’t the real problem
my heart is big - it swells with sincerity and care
but sometimes it’s just too big to bare
patience and vulnerability is usually gushing out of it,
coating my sleeves
because that’s usually where I wear it,
but sometimes I fill it up with frustration
because I lose sight of what self-respect means
all I want to do is yell and scream at people
and tell them how awfully selfish and inconsiderate they are
but most of the time, I love them anyway
people are just people, you shouldn’t let them get to you
they’re fascinating
they’re animals
I always wonder why no one ever questions animal behaviour
and why they’re always so concerned about all the wrong in humans
maybe that’s why we feel shame and animals do not
you can’t control other people
you can’t fix them
but you can love them
you ought to take that toxic responsibility off your shoulders and take a breath of relief
loving doesn’t mean being responsible for making another person
feel loved
that’s up to them
but love them anyway
because it feels so utterly good to love
even if they love you back differently
or not at all
they say the people with the biggest hearts are greeted with the most pain
but we also have the most sincere smiles and the most sincere smiles come from the most sincere happiness
so although we hit the lowest, we also fly the highest
I’ve got this huge heart to share
and I will probably still love you, even if you don’t love me back
it’ll always act out
even when I’m trying to act tough
it likes to laugh and play and poke-pop bubbles in the air
a lot of the time it’s just waiting around in silence
to be loved back and appreciated
and as it aches and tires out,
I’ll still love you
even if you don’t love me
because I know that I don’t actually need you
and that’s just what love is

Remember,

people care about you

they think about you far more than you think they do

they see something that reminds them of you on the street or in a store and they smile because you are a great person and they love that they know you

knowing you makes them happy

knowing you might make them sad too, because sometimes people want more from you than you’re willing to give, but you shouldn’t dwell on making them upset because you are still great and you still bring more happiness to them on most days

sometimes people get sad and that’s not your fault

it is not your job to make a person feel better, and changing who you are just to make them feel better is just a false sense of loyalty that you’re showing them; and anyway, it is far more rewarding to nurture other people by being true to who you are because it is simultaneously nurturing yourself.

when you are sick, get as much affection as you possibly can and do not feel bad about it

tell someone you love them because you just do, not because you feel guilty, obligated or crave their approval

it’s not the end of the world if people don’t need you and it’s probably not the healthiest thing if they are constantly depending on you to clean their messy lives up all the time

you will never regret putting “go to the library” on your to-do list, even if you are swamped and stressed with other things to do; there is nothing quite like being among a whole world of books

don’t be embarrassed about your laugh or blowing your nose in public or even turning bright red when you do get embarrassed because there is nothing wrong with any of these things

you can be sincere or you can be manipulative, but remember that you know how it feels to be manipulated too

people fuck you over all the time, but that just makes them people and you are just the same as these people because you do it too, so lighten up and see it’s not a big deal, but don’t let them walk all over you time and time again because that is just disrespectful to yourself

learn when to stay and when to walk away

you are awesome

I can’t shake the feeling of regret
you know there must be something more tangible behind it
I know
we all know
there has to be
because I shouldn’t miss you like I do just because I do
there has to be something else
it’s been months
and I’ve heard that song on the radio dozens of times
and I’ve been okay with hearing it the whole way through
so why does it give me chills that make me want to call you?
there has to be something else
I can’t just be in love with you again just because I am
you know I am fickle with love
I know
we all know
there has to be something else
like, I am just lonely
but if I am just lonely then wouldn’t I settle for just about anyone?
maybe it’s because you hate me
and I am always craving attention and approval
you know that
I know that
we all know that
it must be that
you were the last person I loved
the last person I really loved
I haven’t felt something like that in a really long time
and knowing you are feeling it right now, for another person
kind of kills  
in a way that makes me want to write you a letter
that you will never respond to
that’s what you always do
but I can’t keep scratching at your window
because you need sleep, even if it’s next to her
and I need sleep, even if it’s next to nobody