the hand made ribbons ripped
as my broken heart began to shed into millions of pieces
almost as if to make sure that it could't be put together again
the self tied bows in my hair fell out
as my weak knees threw me to the ground
taking every inch of pride left in me
the newly bought dress's seams were violently yanked apart
as my cold empty body trembled
showing that i was finally ready to give up
the idea of second chances fled my mind
and enough was enough became part of my everyday language
i was finally free
I still get my news from my hometown.
And I do not respond to my new friends.
And I cursed November when he came.
And I told myself my existence was feeble.
And I got all the movie quotes wrong.
And I was coughing all the damn time, craggy inhales and spittle in my tea.
They were all phonies then.
Except the boy
I met who
ended every sentence with
"I don't really know,"
everything he said could be true.
And I was running all the time in my sleep, then.
And fucking, too.
And the same boy was always in my dreams - but not the right boy - the boy who was important to me only ever in sleep.
But dreams seemed important then, too.
Oh, I remember!
when I yanked you out of bed, come, I am going
(you were going mad, too,
just last week.)
The fog was not rising at all
chain smoking in respect to my lungs
and their strike on air
my strike on a way of living whose sole purpose was
to stay alive longer
what's all the yap about?
I was not sure I wanted to live
you kept on talking about dogs.
I do not want to live
you started talking about cars!
I have death in my fingertips, you fool!
You supposed heaven was real
and I thought over what I had heard:
heaven is all around us
(yes, we were in a cloud.)
And I supposed you were right
but I kept silent,
I could not put my world on you
and its godlessness.
There was a green flashing light
on the other side of Cincinnati
but you did not understand that reference yet.
But we counted all the
churches and rainy cars
They couldn't grasp at God either.
it will make us all mad, then.
but it was science who spelt of protons and electrons;
and when I am GOOD
he shows me his twisted, gnarled little black heart.
and when he, angelic, comes--
I am the Darkness.
We supposed this was how God talks, anyways.
And the sun curled up again
we drank coffee
in bad lighting
night shakes leaving me and...
It took you hours to respond!
Grappling with insanity for hours!
the kinds in wavelengths
glowering hunched electric clock in the corner
I could not stop thinking over forgiveness
and if I forgave my father for forgetting my birthday
nine years ago
And if it mattered anymore
And if I forgave God
And if I would ever apologize to Him
there was a green flashing light in my baptismal basin, too.
I do not call myself Gatsby anymore.
I rushed in my room, collapsed on my bed, and buried my face in my pillow. I screamed. An Inhumane scream. One that echoed in my heart. It hurt. I rolled over, silent tears falling down my face. Then it all came at once. Too many emotions to explain. It felt like there was a rain cloud over my bed, and nothing was ever going to get better.
I'd completely forgotten the razor I hid in my phone case. It had been there so long. It's always with me.
I remembered. Yanked the case off my phone and grabbed it. I stared at it for a little while, tracing the edges.
It kissed my skin. Damn, what a lovely release. I thought of her.. Her face came into view, and my thigh was soon a disaster. I leaned over it, crying. Screaming her name into my room. She couldn't hear, why bother? I flung it across the room and pounded my fist against the wood paneled wall. Once, twice, three.. I leaned my head on the wall looking at the ground. I pounded my fist on the wall once more, and crumpled to the ground like a falling autumn leaf. I leaned back against the wall. Buried my head into my knees, and cried even harder.
I needed desperately to clean my mess. So I gathered everything together, and fixed my thigh, maybe I'll get lucky and no one would sit on it this time.
I put in my headphones. Turned the music as loud as it would go, and laid in bed, looking at the ceiling, but only seeing her face..
I dropped the spoon into the water.
The ripples creeped into dark corners.
I looked down into the deep
And saw the clog that kept the water.
The ripples settled in dark corners.
I reached in
And felt the slime
The grime, on plates and bowls.
I felt with desperation for
The bottom, to unclog the drainage holes
And yanked with all my horror at
the rotten, dampened clump of mold.
Whirlpool of soapy vomit
Slurping up bits of eaten food
Hungry beast of unknown tunnels.
The ripples sucked from out dark corners.
she was spinning
for the thousandth time
and never fell once,
though gravity pulled at her ears
in circles around her skull,
and the ground yanked
at the corners of her eyelids.
she was blind
and couldn’t see the point at which
her heels rotated against carpet,
but she could hear the washing winds
that swelled inside her ears,
whose disembodied whispers
echoed out of her pearly eyes,
whose voices broke her knees
every time her head shut itself tight.
in the night,
she broke herself back open
to stop falling on an axis.
she peeled the whispers from her bleached skin
replaced them in a wooden box,
and buried them under her damp sink,
where they crawled around
in the dark’s ink.
i am not where i am meant to be like the ice in this cup of tea
stuck under the sun on a red california day
i am gone— i have gone away for a month or a day
what even is time anymore when I have been stretched out
and i can’t seem to find the ends of myself that are so far away—
miles begin to matter when the things that your lips would sleep on
are more than arm lengths away— i don’t know
where mine begin—where should i look to find you, or anything
i want to walk miles but my roots are too below heavy dirt
to be yanked out even by the strongest arm—i would of
adored that arm but they are already wrapped around their own happiness
all i am is a stranger to bump shoulders with on a friday night
they never ask for my name but that is alright ‘cause
i sometimes forget—a short breath of vowels if i remember correctly
they don’t know what my bones feel like but i can tell you
they are softer than my skin—dirt has forever to know this
and suddenly time has become valuable— when there isn’t any left
I am a murder
I murdered the girl i use to be
The one that smiled and laughed
I took those away
I don't deserve happiness
Not when all i can do is hurt
I don't deserve help
I can't help anyone
All i can do is make it worse
I murdered her
Her smile and laugh
I yanked them away
Now she just turns a cheek and cries herself to sleep
Trying to sooth her mind by inflicting her body pain
Maybe it will bring the girl with bright eyes and rosey cheeks
And fill the void of the girl with dark eyes and pale skin and a void where her heart should be.
Maybe if i act like her she will come back.
But why would she want to come back to a life like this.
I certainly wouldn't
If you are here to pull my strings and topple me down,
And I truly have no hope against the immensity of your meddling hands,
You can just bet
That I will give you one fantastic fight.
Show me enough times that this life is for me to crumble
And I will make it my constant mission
To be nothing but a pain in your ass.
I will struggle, I will protest, I will rise again every goddamn time
Until you cut me off at the knees
And then I'll crawl.
I've got nerve in spades
And don't you doubt it.
Apparently, after all, you put it there.
You yanked out my batteries and thought I'd drone down to a drained-out death
But you forgot to take my nerve back,
The little gritty sharp current that reanimates me,
That spark that means
I would use my last breath to rebel, defiant, against my demise.
You might be the Divine Winner
But I aim to misbehave.
I aim to be the hardest conquest you ever attempt.
Drag me to hell kicking and screaming,
Or heaven, if you prefer-
I'll fight you just the same,
I was yanked from my childish day dreams,
plunged into a cess-pool of evaluation and judgement
before my 15th birthday.
I have yet to venture outside my own country's borders,
yet to feel unconditional love from eyes unseen,
I can't even cook my own dinner.
They thrust me into the hot seat,
where are you going?
how will you get there?
Where do you see yourself in ten years?
Maybe eating olives on my balcony,
crying over wasted years and broken fingers.
And they tell me
'Study hard, your future depends on it.'
as if my future revolves around
letters on a piece of paper,
teaching me that percentages
define my self-worth.
Grades before morals.
And now I look at the scale and the digits
three men to be executed
by firing squad.
And I was taught from the age of six
that these numbers represent
I am numbers
on a scale
on a report card
a percentage on a test.
Society looks upon me
as a resume.
A collection of fake numbers and symbols
and they decide,
based upon this sleazy little game of
what life you deserve.
I stood in the empty hallway and listened to your music,
Wafting out the open door.
I stood like I'd been paused, a still life painting, a stone wall,
I considered my feet, like lead.
I considered the steps they could take.
I considered walking in and telling you that this morning
You were the first person I chose to speak to with my voice
I considered the feeling in my gut,
An instinct, however inexplicable,
A warning bell whose vibrations I'd been bathed in for 24 hours, that made me stay away so utterly.
I stood long, until the song had nearly ended,
But ultimately when my decision reached its fingers round my ankles,
It yanked me away,
And, careful, I fabricated my usual gate-
As if I'd just gotten up the stairs, right then,
And hadn't frozen in the middle of the hall
In an agony of gravity versus apprehension
For all those moments.