Alcoholism took my father away from me.
I watched him destroy his life from the age of five.
When Austin left us- I watched his life shatter completely.
I started to plink away on the piano.
Then he started to pick up the pieces.
He got his life together, remarried, and is trying to repay a lost childhood.
So I continue to play.

Now, I'm watching both my sister's life come to crumbles at the lips of a bottle.
So I play louder.
One has gone to rehab for drugs and alcohol.
She is getting better- back on her feet.
The other has moved out and cut off communication with our Father.
So I keep playing.
I'll write a sonng or two for you-
and I'll wait for you to come home.

All I've ever known alcohol to do- is destroy.
And people wonder why the smell nauseates me..

Sometimes I love you and it's just
Painful
Too painful for me to continue
For me to fathom what's wrong
For me to discern reality from illusions
For me to comprehend your lies.

Sometimes I hate you and it just
*****
Yeah, I said it. Hating you
*****.
Because life is a lie, love is a lie,
My hate for you is a lie-
Or is it the truth?
I don't know anymore.

Sometimes I ignore you and it's just
Pure
Bliss
I close my eyes and ignore you
I clap my hands over my ears
Pretend I don't hear you
Pretend I don't see you
Pretend I don't feel you
Like I did that night
Which was sprinkled with stars like
Icing
Icing on a cupcake.

Sometimes I remember you and it's just
Horrifying
Two conflicting emotions of deep within battle
Fight to seek dominance and reassurance
Your love nauseates me and excites me
Because I remember drunken words full of poisoned love
And I recall your touch that used to heal
But now it burns and forever it will hurt
It burns and flares greater than any cursed fire.

Sometimes I love you, and hate you
Sometimes I ignore you, and remember you
And life isn't what it used to be
It's no longer a fairytale
It holds no dram of mercy
And love for you is so conflicting
So contradicting, so confusing
Like yin and yang or something more
Faded lines, blurred lies and tear-streaked whispers...

Sometimes, I think that
Me
Loving
You
Isn't that worthwhile anymore.

This age has been to me a fist in the abdomen.
Rough. But sweet, too.

18, and the first line of my journal emerges like a rebellious blush, longing and delinquent. It sits in its designated place with blue ink honesty that terrifies that breath out of me. I must keep writing. I must push away from my confession. I must ignore the panic rolling in my chest. Love, in this moment, nauseates me.

18, and I am running my thumb over a round scar on my left wrist with an emotion that is not quite sadness but perhaps disappointment, for not being brave enough, for not putting that blade away before it was too late, for letting myself down. I’m supposed to be a feminist. I’m supposed to A Strong Woman who is big enough to love herself at all times. But I slipped, I fell hard. I let myself visit a place I never should have, and here is the evidence. A little continent of puckered skin I stroke while apology quivers in my fingers.

18, and I’m in my bedroom by the window with the blinds raised so I can see all the stars. I’m soft and sad and laughing. I am thinking of a girl.

18, and everything aches under the weight of awful silence. I wonder what it’s like to be normal. One of those happy faces in the grocery store choosing between black and cannellini beans, ignorant of the sickly fog clinging to my being. I isolate myself from everyone, because who the hell would want to deal with the horrible mess of a creature that I am? I can’t even look in a mirror without wanting to gag. I am my own heaviest burden.

18, and there are no words for what I feel. The warm shock of electricity when my fingers find hers and curl around them is much like a hopeful satellite alighting on a foreign planet. Only this planet isn’t dust or crater or rounded emptiness. This planet is knuckle and pulse-point and heat. This planet is divinity, created from two-sided love so entwined it is one indivisible entity. I sit here in the dark, while a fullness of light breaks open in every part of me.

18, and all I am in a person repeatedly dragging herself to her feet.

18, and I will not let my body be the target of insecurity a moment longer. I look at myself with softness and this is when I see how my inadequacies are actually a language of fierce beauty, how my stretchmarks flow over my hips and thighs like the Nile, delta after brave, pale delta. I glow with gratitude for these marks, these signs of growth.

18, and I am resting on the root of a great tree beside the love of my life. There are daisies in her hair and I think, if vital organs could spurt wings, my heart would rise right out of my chest.

18, and graduation burns like a bittersweet beacon. I smile and hug people and say goodbye, but what I am really saying is, “Watch me.” What I am really saying is, “Someday I will be nothing more than a humble relic in your memory, but today I am now, and now, and now.”

18, and I want to hold onto everything. My flaking yellow nail polish, letters given to me to send me bravely on my way, the shaking of my heart as I square my shoulders and step from velvet darkness into light, the precise slant of the sun as it leaves us for another hemisphere, this chest-heaving mess of adrenaline and perspiration and ache, tears I won’t hold back, pansies blooming on my windowsill, the symphony of myself growing bright and loud and lovely enough to fill the walls of every place I set foot in, like ink dropped in a waiting water glass, endlessly expanding.

I wanted to apologize in advance for the heartache i left at your doorstep. Please appreciate the beautiful wrapping, for appearance and pretense, which are essentially the same, do take effort. I rang the doorbell twice, and dug the knife in deep. Not necessarily because I wanted to wound you, but mostly because I wanted understand your depths. I wanted to know how far i could sink in.

I forced my way into your thoughts. You didn't invite me in but once i reached the inside of your fascinating head i ran wild, leaving scars on your vulnerable brain as I pleased. I spray painted graffiti on the left brain, carved my initials into the right. I hoped that as the years pass by and the trees do their seasonal dance, you'd run into those scars and I'd force my way into your thoughts once again. Or at least that's what i had planned.

And I'm sorry for making you my voodoo doll. By hurting you i was hoping that i too would feel some sort of agony ,but i think that my heart's ice covering has made it numb to this kind of pain.

I was trying to undo your knots, so maybe mine would fall apart as well. I was hoping that we were two strings intertwined. As the strings separated I realized that they weren't nearly as beautiful, so I backed away pitifully. My knots were tighter than ever, and looking at yours hurt. I'm sorry I ruined your mess. It was all so intentional.

It was because I loved the way I looked in your eyes. They were a mirror I could finally bear to see myself in. But you have to understand that I didn't want to love myself. So i had to make it so i wasn't able to peer up at your irises anymore. Only at the ground as a mumbled my inadequate goodbyes.

I needed you to be a reason to write a love poem, but you turned into another apology, I'm sorry. I wish I would've loved you.

There were times when my heart beat fast. Hypersonic. Like it needed to pump blood through the tangles of veins for the both of us while we focused on one another. It wanted to keep us alive so that we could experience this for as long as possible.

I put you in my mouth. I felt you on my teeth. Then I chewed you up until I became sick of your flavor. Once sweet, the taste of you now nauseates me. This is me spitting you out. Whether bubble gum or boy, neither are meant to last forever. Have I punctured you yet? Is the ice building in your veins? I cannot help trying to hurt you, its an intuitive source of pleasure that can only come from the dark insides that bark through their muzzle.

I felt like a child again as I toyed with your emotions, but as always, games grow tiresome, and I wanted a new doll to run my fingers against. I wanted to create a new story.

I haven't ended it yet. We're in our telescope phase. I'm looking for reasons to leave and you're looking for reasons to make me stay. We both know the latter is much more difficult to decipher in the night sky. Yet we continue our search, destined for the inevitable, but pretending to be oblivious. Slaves to what must be, but patrons of what could be.

I was one of those girls who thought about death a lot and you were one of those boys with balloon lightness, which made you endlessly appealing. I grabbed on to you hoping that you would bring me up with you, but we could not defy the laws of physics set out for us. You could not bring me up, I could only weigh you down. So i set you free, and watched as you floated gracefully away, becoming smaller and smaller.The image is still clear, and the scar still stings when I think about how it felt to no longer be able to see you, and that the fault was all mine. Because I had an agenda for breaking hearts.

But don't pretend like you didnt love your puppeteer. You wanted to be controlled. you wanted something to hate. Because people want something to hate just as much as they want something to love. Because everything is the same. Once you realize the uniformness of the world, you realize why we wear our irises and we convince our brains that everything is, in fact, different. And we decide some things are to be loved and some things are to be hated. But what specifies these things from one another? What is the difference? A world where young children scream at the sight of a flower, and destroy it with their boots until they are sure it is dead? A world where a suitor gives a beautiful woman a bouquet of spiders to show his affection, and she blushes and says that they're beautiful. What is the difference between this world and ours?  Essentially, nothing. We have chosen to love one thing and hate the other and it is complete chance. So when you say you love me, I am offended.

And when you say you hate me, I smile.

The doubt is encircling
The negativity nauseates
My inner soul
I can't control what you think
Of me
The one you claim to love,
To want,
To need,
To treat better.

I guess a mistake is better left unspoken
But then where's the truth?
In the corner,
Broken?

For the amount you claim
To put out
I get out nothing,
But this heartbroken drought
And you ******* believe,
That I live for these doubts?
And what's perfect,
Is you're something I can't live without

I can't take all this hurt
Steal a glance, walk away
Can't breathe deep
And rewind
So it all goes away
No no no
Your blows are something that won't start to stray
They will stay
And will stay
And will stay and watch me
All
Day

It may sound cliche
But it always rings true:
I can never escape
When my heart lies with you.

Ive let you in over and over
trusted in what was said
seeing as how I love you

Now I grow tired of it all
breaks my mind
from a sound sleep, I'll  never to get back

Trusted what you've said so many times
It nauseates me to know
I have done it again
Same tricks
Same lies
Same speech

Fallen for you and I know I always will
The deception will never cease
And I should be used to it by now

It is hard living with myself

Manipulated the masses
through media.
Clear the air
for an explosion of silence
before the first acoustics
pierce through the ears
to the spongy minds
of the adolescence.
Close your eyes and
imagine the edited sounds
of the juxtaposition,
clashing the rhythms and melodies
mixed with the reprised chorus of
repugnant magnitude,
meaningless crybaby lyrics
and off-key utterance
with agonizing commercialism.
Corporate record companies
hide behind thick black velvet curtains
and produce highly profitable garbage,
so bad that it sounds like a
dead baby being slapped
against an untuned violin.
Pulling the strings on
radio stations like marionettes
to spread these undesirable
golden oldies like wildfire.
Using and abusing music television
to overplay videos repeatedly
until it nauseates your innards.
These puppet masters reel
the uneducated into the
blackest tar pits and capture
their gray matter for eternity
to what they believe to be
is acceptable music.
Unknowledgeable and unaware
of anything else in existence.
In a world that makes haste,
we don't take the time anymore
to appreciate what we listen to
that actually fulfills and pleases
our soul, body and mind.
Generation after generation
declining into the sludge and slop
of objectifying and degrading compositions.

Record stores hold sanctuary.

Providing hidden gems and treasures
for explorations.
Rummaging through the LPs and EPs
and scrutiny of 45s and 7 inches
to find the pearl in the oyster
concealed under piles of
flotsam and jetsam,
thrift store throwaways.
Music lovers are like
archaeologists and scuba divers
rediscovering obscure rarities
in old crates of the deepest,
darkest depths of
mildew basement cellars.
One moment before the next,
in the highest fidelity
as the needle drops on the licorice pizza
and off the twang comes
the lovely wax statics
of the most ******* reverberations.
All the little hairs stand upright
and tingle the back of your neck
and arms as the notes
flow off your fingertips
and you fall into a
complete state of euphoria,
like a Buddhist that's reached
Nirvana.
Gritty Maestros of the underworld
construct celestial symphonies,
so soothing they can tame
the wildest beasts and
orchestrate the most
diabolical spazz noid cacophonies
as the high frequencies skirmish
through cracked speakers.
Music can summon the demons
inside you while reaching
therapeutic climaxes
simultaneously.

Eyes fixed on a flickering screen.
Yesterday’s dinner caking itself to the plate.
Sheets itching to get off the mattress
all while you lay there in your filth.
The air of stale sweat and fast food
no longer itches your nose or nauseates.
Instead, it’s aroma seduces you
into staying here another hour.
Open the window for some air?
No, that would ruin the illusion.
Stay here until there’s nothing else to do;
until the shops are shut and your friends are asleep
and the whole world is sleeping with them.
Stay here until the air runs out
with eyes fixed on a flickering screen.

My body is overwhelmed with a deep gut wrenching feeling
One that sickens your motivation and nauseates the core of your soul.
I know I made the wrong mistakes
Flipped, turned the page without even reading what the story entailed
Wish I wouldn't have turned that book in
Its been checked out by another and who knows if it'll ever be returned.

It's one of those feelings, the kind that leaves you catatonic
Things don't make sense and I'm losing consciousness at elevated peaks
Reality is a karmic reminder which feeds me to a daily treat
Stuffing me with flashbacks of all the wrongs where I knew it was right

I'd like to say "this too shall pass" but it hasn't and I'm not sure it ever will
Its been years, feeling like a lifetime
This burden has burrowed into my heart
Leaving traces of you, leaving remnants of what was once created

This burning desire remains at stake
If it's going to live within me forever
Tall tale sign of regret,
Please, someone throw some water on me
As if it were a baptism
Wake me up and release the chemicals that drown me into this lake of fire

Malnourished and battered, he shades himself beneath a tree of oak
Worn from the arduous weight of responsibility
Sunken eyes and filthy hair, baking in the sun
Among the rotting, sickly sweet perfume of tender fruit deferred past its peak
It sinks deeper through the dirt
Decomposing into soil around his tattered heels
A smell that nauseates him but amplifies his growling intestine
Foul corpses lay among him, tempting a moments satisfaction
To relieve the pain of being a beating heart wrapped tight in flesh
Fighting against the black staining his exposed legs
A newly ripe pomegranate glistening at him from above
The sweetest taste he can fathom an arm's reach from the pit
But too weak to stand he admires from a distance
As the festering pulp claims him as its own

It’s there when you find yourself in panic, wandering alone in the middle of the night for a glass of water.
It’s there when you find yourself facing your living room, silent and dark.
It’s looking back to you, as you quickly run up the steps and close your bedroom door in fear that it will follow you.
It’s there when you’re laying in bed and a feeling of regret comes within. The feeling gathered from all of your misfortunes in life and you wondering why you feel this way.
You wondering why you feel so helpless, a sour feeling in the pit of your chest.
You wondering why no one else can see the struggle you bring when you face others.
You worrying yourself over one life, your life, in which brings you to tears and the world feels as if it is closing in on you.
It’s in the darkest corner of your bedroom.
A cloud of dark horror that you cannot distinguish.
You believe it to be a black hallucination as the cloud nauseates in its place.
It’s there in your classroom.
A dull, lifeless thought fighting its way into the back of your mind.
It’s hovering over you, as you contemplate whether or not you should speak.
Whether or not you should gather your things, stand up, and get out.
It’s there for you when you get out.
It’s there for you when the pressure in your chest is aching so heavily and the noises downstairs don’t seem to quiet down.
It’s there when the voices from the outside are not enough to overpower the voices in your mind telling you to listen to them tell you that you will need to cover your eyes and not pay attention to it.
It’s there for you when you need to swallow away the voices in your mind so you can focus on their voices rather than listen to your own.
It’s there for you when you swallow away the voices in which they told you to avoid.
It’s watching you as you lay your head on your pillow and shift your head to meet it directly.
It’s watching you as you watch their faces appear in confusion and guilt, as all the timing in your world comes to a close.
It’s watching you shut your eyes.
It’s watching you, but you wouldn’t know.

I can handle blood, okay?
Knuckles when my wraps are loose
Sucker punches to the nose
Scalpels, scissors, screws
When the first incision flows
What I can't handle
Is knowing that I could slip from your mind
Into a pile of spontaneous moments
A slew of songs and stars
A collection of couches and cars
I check my phone too often now
So do not disturb stays on
Because when I do it,
Your message lives in a paradox of quantum superposition
Both sent and unsent, simultaneously
I don't have to wait in pain for pings
To remind me that you care
You crush me with care
But I will have to leave
My land of delusion
State of confusion
Cut off the perfusion
And come to a conclusion
My conclusion is:
I hate that my heart hurts
I hate reality sinking in
I hate leaving behind sparkles
Why couldn't they just stay locked up
In my all-too-familiar bottle of prosecco?
Why did you have to shake it up
And leave shimmer all over me?
Why do you make me want to
Sacrifice precious sleep
For another chance to impress you
And make you want me again?
I'm now not-so-subtle
Which nauseates me more
Than waiting for the first cut
Because you made me care
What a concept!
I don't know if it's a nerve block or what
But I once was feeling stuck
And now I can breathe again
I don't even know what I leave you with
So I will start with words
And Christmas lights
I hope you hang up Christmas lights
I'll stay in my world of romanticism
While methodically trying to not seem crazy
I'm never like this
But there's just something about you
That has made me want to write poetry again.

This form has been
Played upon in different ways
And she seems to master all of them
On each disparate string

Steel strings stretched out
Over a hardwood box
Cause I can't get out
Of your heart-shaped box.

And the sunrise
Nauseates
You left your kitten in a state

I know that I'm not the answer
But I could be your moment
And every time it's so dear,
Soft flesh and blood
It leaves me thinking about love.

It happened again
They wet the wood and braced it strong
And she manufactures all of them
In each disparate song

My nerves stretched out
Under the big hard sun
With the animal herd
I'm just another son

And the sunset
Dinner plate
You keep your lover out of state

I know I'm not the one
But I can substitute
And each time it's so dear
Soft flesh and blood
Leaves me thinking about love

Shroud me in your womb
Where the embryo of life exists still
In its purity and serenity,
The untainted, unknown mysteries
Of the bewitching, unborn, world lies
A safe and warm abode to lie
Lullabied and lulled in
the rhythm of pure love
couched in the joys and holiness of
A carefree life in bounty
To unveil to the barren earth
Devoid of love, faith and hope
Bound in untold miseries and when life
is a tale of woe weaved in eternal fear,
a waning, distant hope for a resurrection
The barrenness of the present day life nauseates me to utter monotony and demands an exit
The intoxication of glittering, material desires
To dream of a bright life wanes,
As the pallid days reign the world,
The rise of dawn brings no peace,
But looming deaths and vain hopes
Of the remnants of the fearful existence
Sequestered lives in one's own refuge
I might wither and droop soon
Let me sink in the dark bowels of earth
Replenish and reborn from the earth's womb
into a free world donned in peace and purity
A wanderlust free from the
******* of worldly desires......

You should have made me feel safe and loved
You should have been there
You should have protected me

I understand she can’t help it
I understand that it’s not your fault
I understand too much of what I shouldn’t understand

I was your responsibility
So why was I responsible for myself?
You gave her too much trust
You never gave me any room to discuss

The traumatic memories go around in my head
Like a movie without an end
The spilling of wine and the reminisce of lies
The shouts echo through the halls when I walk by

This was supposed to make me strong
Yet I am not strong enough to stop the tears in my eyes
This was supposed to make others feel lucky
Yet she says I am ungrateful

What should I be grateful for?
The empty promises
The humiliation
The infinite piles of crushed cans laying in the blue bin

I smell her heroism decay day by day
Her exhaustion nauseates me

You pretend not to see my wounds
You pretend not to hear my cries
Because you of a broken vow
Which is the only thing keeping you from falling apart

I hope to make it in the end
Away from the stench that is indebted in my blood
Away from the weak that aren’t strong enough to fight
Away from her,
Even though she will always be in my head
Away from you, the one who never tucked me in

I hope this story ends
With my hero dead.