when I was a young kid there was no room in our house so I had to sleep in the crawlspace above the house
It was winter and the crawlspace was uninsulated and there was
a small old space heater from the 1970’s that didn’t do anything
unless you were right up next to it.
Sometimes I would get up
next to it
and the sleeping bag would start to burn on the edges
I’d wake up and move away from it because it would burn
the sleeping bag.
One night it was very cold but I didn’t turn on
the heater because I didn’t want to melt a giant hole in the
sleeping bag for good and maybe burn myself. That night
while I was sleeping a brown recluse spider bit me on the hip.
It mustv crawled in to the sleeping
bag with me because it was cold
The next morning the bite had swollen
up like half a golf ball and in the middle was
a sort of purple spot where the skin was most affected by
necrosis and that spot
already looked like it wanted to let
out all the pus inside. I knew that there was pus inside
because it had swollen so much and sort of felt solid but
squishy. I didn’t do anything about it that day
because I didn’t know what kind of a bite it was.
The next night
was very cold because it was early february but I didn’t want to
melt my sleeping bag again. The temperature gauge in the crawl
space said it was 34 because some of the heat from the
house did leak in to the crawlspace because it was uninsulated.
I had lots of clothes on but only had a pair of baggy
jeans and my legs were bare under that. That night the
same spider must have crawled in to the sleeping bag
up my pants leg. The next morning the bite from two
nights before had gone to hell because I hadn’t done
anything to treat it right away and I had rolled on to
it the next night and it had turned yellow and purple
and the skin on the whole area was necrotic but on top
of the first bite was a second bite that had started to swell
up as well. I thought this was funny because I was young
and nasty stuff is funny when you’re young.
I sort of squeezed at the fleshy mass and a bit of
liquid came out but not a whole lot of liquid.
There was obviously an obstruction. So I took
a metal needle and heated it up with a lighter to
make it easier to pierce the skin. When it
was red hot I pushed right in to
the top of the hole where the purple was and
it started letting out little bits of pus. I wasn’t
satisfied with the amount it was producin
g but since the hole from the needle went in really deep
I figured a lot more would come out if I pushed on
either side of the lump. At first there was mostly
light red blood and some white pus that was watery
and it sort of ran out. No matter how hard
I pushed it only a little bit of puss would come out.
I left it alone but came back to it later on and by
this time a scab had formed over the top of the hole
. I ripped this off and continued to push on to the
sides of the lump which by this time had lost some
of its original form because the skin was dead
on and around the lump. It had caved in like little
indentations of my fingers where I had pressed
but no liquid came out. The second bite had taken
care of any skin on the first bite that might have
missed the necrosis and even it had its own little lump
coming out of the first. My entire leg was sore
because the muscle tissue was necrotic deep down.
By the next day the skin had died and changed in such a
way I never thought I would ever see a part of myself.
It had turned a dark yellow and the purple was a
solid purple that didn’t mix with the yellow. As
I scratched at it, the skin peeled off in layers and
I kept scratching at the skin and it kept peeling off.
It got to a point where I knew I could just bust
the whole thing open if I really squeezed at it and
it all just came out. The blood in the middle
was blackish and the pus was thick and lumpy
like oatmeal. There was lots and lots of it in there.
After that the spider bit me again on the same hip
but about a month later. By this time the first bites
had healed to an indented scar where the skin had healed
but not come back. The third bite wasn’t as bad as the first
but it still died and rotted away like the first.
Spiders are ok because they don’
t bite people who didn’t have it coming. As much as I’d like to
think I could have prevented that from happening I
would gladly let the spider in to my sleeping bag again
if it was cold but with no guarantee I wouldn’t roll on to it and I say this with warm feelings.
some spiders are hunting spiders and they almost never attack anything bigger than themselves unless they feel like their lives are threatened. These spiders tend to have the most powerful bite because they have to kill their prey fast rather than wait for it in a web
Mirror, mirror on the wall am I skinnier then them all?
Am I not? Well that's too bad cause I will have to skip a few meals after all
Lovely collar bones and thin wrist
Thin legs like cara please
A collarbone like miley please
A thigh gap so I can feel pretty
Even if I have to lower my calories
Don't you see everything my eyes is showing me is fat and I have to lose it to be perfect
Don't you know I'd die for perfection?
The hunger pains is cheering me on
Maybe I'll stick my finger down my throat
Every night I cry myself to sleep
The scale said I picked up weight
Looks like I'll have to cut again
Punishment is the only way I'll learn
Don't eat or you'll get burned
Perfection is on my brain
Thin girls on the street is my motivation
Halt our shallow breaths--
staccato fogs at the stoplights
Cling precarious in cold
like the frost on the stop signs.
The street lights keep on winking
Winter's early and it's sinking
and clutching wool to swollen throats
I swore I'd never stand here again
at December's fucking doorstep
knocking every weekend
(I) always circle back every year
I take the same old punches
and shiver through same regrets
Halt my raising glass
and analyze my afflictions:
28, alone and broke
Fucking cop to addictions.
These late years keep on stalking
Old friends have started balking
at my shit
that shoe fits
vices acquit me; they'll convict.
I know that I will stand here again
at December's fucking deathbed
sleeping in every weekend
(I) always spring right back every March
I await the same old punches
and defrost my losing bets.
When I was young I didn't care just wanted my way
Now I'm older I barely have qny say
I use to lust now I'm learning to trust
Its too much pressure I can't handle
I fear commitment and hope to be better
Feels like I can't be me and nothing is right
Mind full of doubt and want out
Asked to be friends going without
It hurts but its not meant to be
Giving it to god he will provide
Id like to settle down but rebellious ways tell me no way
A pink schock
cooled by the turquoise
flicked to a fro
revealing road kill
and a lava sky
unravel your mind
So many questions
"I like the pink hair,
I'm sitting here on the couch
Mug in hand, spliff in mouth
And I think to myself,
"things are good".
Things aren't great,
but things aren't bad.
There is no real reason
Why I should be sad.
Though I haven't a penny,
Nickle or dime
I have a roof and a cat
Who's getting a touch fat
So why the hell am I crying?
I have a passion, a drive
That's been left unfulfilled
And I want to, so badly
To sit here and stagnate
To 'moss' if you like
Leaves me wanting
I don't, I'm polite.
My neighbours are people
With problems like me
From doubting their life
To forgetting the key.
So I'll be quiet
And I'll not make a sound
I'll watch a funny video
And I'll eventually come 'round.
Though, the future scares me
It brings many things:
From ups to downs,
Smiles to frowns,
From terrifying clowns,
To nights out on the town,
And hopefully, plenty of asses
That are gorgeously round.
So I've got to rally
Be in good form
They say it gets better
Or it is always wetter
Before the eye of the storm.
this is a poem dedicated to distance.
to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't.
to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours.
to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face.
to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other.
to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence.
to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy.
to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down.
to every miscommunicated statement and every typo.
to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them.
to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you.
to every self-destructive tendency we share.
to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed.
to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply.
to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds.
to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here".
to every broken-record apology that never makes it better.
to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could
feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore).
to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us.
to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back.
to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better".
to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail.
to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy.
to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean.
to every goddamn mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752).
you will not win.
The hair on my arms flutters like feathers.
The wind, powerful and insistent, is all the encouragment I need.
"Did you give me wings?" My question is soft and breathless.
You were born with wings, darling, you whisper at the nape of my neck.
"I can jump?" The idea is invigorating.
I need the end. I crave a conclusion.
No...You can fly.
I hear the humming
of your voice
in the blurred darkness
behind my phone's screen
I look occasionally
You mention a city
something like where you were from
I like Greg's status
You blah further about
your parents or something
I text Jerry about a recipe for a good salsa
I begin to talk
To your glowing
This goes on for quite some time
We sit in silence
in the backseat of the cab
I hug her goodnight
and suggest to meet again soon
I probably won't call her
We had nothing in common
i'm a lot like a lost puppy
why have you left?
am i not good enough?
am i not being distant enough?
please come back please i need you.
oh dear god why am i not with you please.
please i need you.
please what have i done?
oh my god please i am so sorry.
please come back.