There are people being killed in the streets
And in hot, understaffed kitchens, I am working
I am working until my body fails me
And as I fall into my dreams when I get home
Gunshots, screams and cries echo in circles
And my dreams are full of bloodied bodies
And even in my dreams I am powerless
Even in my own life I am powerless
Controlled by the need for a mere couple hundred of dollars
To feed those dear to me
As monsters bare their teeth
and spew their deadly germs all over my sweaty, exhausted body
I am paid just barely enough to buy myself a meal.
There are people being killed in the streets
Their are people dying in hospitals their families can’t afford
Hospitals that I couldn’t afford
And I am cooking food for those who can afford to eat out
I shouldn’t be feeling the burn of a hot oven on my skin
I should be feeling the burn of a hot sun on my skin
As I take to the streets
As I fight for those who are hurting
Hurting more than I can even fathom, more than I can even imagine.
It is almost the Fourth of July
And people are being killed in the streets
And I don’t even have time to cry
And as people celebrate with lights and loud bangs in the sky
People will be fearing for their lives
And children will be without their parents
And parents will be without their children
And as I grieve today
I have to wipe away my tears
I have to pull my hair away from my face
I have to put on a name tag and an apron
While people are being killed in the streets.
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
The hand that fed me
Became the hand that hit me
And when I bit his fingers
He only hit harder
We played when he wanted to play
And when the rough housing hurt me
I was crying in the corner like a kicked puppy
And I thought maybe I’d run out the door and down the street the next chance I got
But I was chained inside his bedroom
My collar so tight I could hardly breathe
And on that day I decided I didn’t like these games anymore
The front door opened and my restraints loosened
And I think the worst part
Is that I kept coming back to sit on the front porch
Hoping he’d let me back in
Because you never leave the hand that feeds you
Even if it leaves you starving
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
You rubbed the blood on my tiny hands
When I was only a child
You hammered the nails into my subconscious
And drowned my head with thoughts of sin and sorrow
And I was only a child
Fearful of what or who may be watching me
Fearful of what or who may be judging me
Until I cowered under my baby blankets hoping to disappear
Yet I have to thank you
Yet I’m supposed to love you
Even though I know you talk to God
And I know he tells you not to love me
But Happy Holidays and
The warmest of regards
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
I don’t want to crave the harshness in the back of my throat anymore
I want to dance in the rain with you
Even if I lose my breath
Even if my hair gets wet
I want the world to become a little brighter
So I can see clearer just for a little while
Even in the middle of the darkest of months
And maybe my head wont hang as low
And maybe my neck will no longer ache
And maybe my body will feel a freedom and clarity I haven’t felt since I was a child
Even in the middle of the darkest of days.
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 11:30 PM UTC
I know you didn't mean to
I know it wasn't your intention
But when you say I hurt you
I can't help but think that you made me
You gave me the knife that you fell into
And never understood my concern as your blood poured over my white clothes
No amount of bleach could wash the stains away
Yet I continued to scrub desperately at this tarnished cloth
Until the seams began to separate
And I know you didn't mean to
And I know it wasn't your intention
But I was left uncovered and cold
And you didn't hold me anymore.
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
This new room does not hold me like the old one once did
Lacking the cracks in the walls to count and memorize
And the old children's stickers peeling up at the corners on the baseboards
But it's mine, and I'm on my own just like I've always wanted
(Right?)
A cupboard, a fridge full
Yet all of the food rots away like my insides
As I'm laying in bed at night
Fluttering my lids at every sound
At every footstep
Of a reminiscent spirit that clenches at my chest and pulls me back into this godforsaken bed
Where I grasp aimlessly at dreams out of reach
No longer dreading waking before the sun rises for work
But relieved to leave the heaviness these blankets.
People say I look good, I seem like I have my energy back
Did you lose some weight?
(yes)
And words come pouring out of my mouth so quickly they trip over each other desperately
(I am desperate)
And I lie
I tell my mom, I'm sorry I've been so busy
When I haven't left this house leisurely in weeks
And she can clearly see the dark concaves under my eyes.
My mom gifts me food to take home
And I have to deny
Knowing I'll be unable to eat it
Unable to fill this body so hollow
And now so frail.
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC
Walking through the quiet halls I see a silhouette of what could be
And of what used to be
There are no blankets to pull over us
But I lay here tangled in cotton and plush
in this darkness of your absence
A few footsteps
A few miles away from me
Feels like the longest of journeys
With my heart racing and my palms growing warm
I wish I could put this to rest
I haven't slept in a while
But I will still turn off the lights for you.
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC
I began my life in this house when I was only 4 years old
Just barely old enough to remember painting the walls space blue, adding the constellations to my new world
Just barely old enough to remember my brother and I fighting over the top bunk
That ended up giving me nose bleeds from the ceiling heat
As I grew I can remember our 12 inch TV
I can remember watching Jurassic Park on VHS practically religiously
I recall nightmares, and sneaky late nights watching Cartoon Network in near silence.
I was in middle school, and no longer wanted to share my room with my older brother
My parents, unable to afford a bigger house with more than but two bedrooms, created a nook for my now grown brother to live in, with nothing but make-shift walls
Leaving me alone in this room I'd grown up in
I remember being unable to sleep that first night by myself, even if my brother had been right across the house.
I was in highschool and I started having boys and friends over
I started receiving noise warnings late at night from my overworked and underpaid parents after a bout of laughter
I started becoming depressed.
My room, still painted space blue became a black hole
As I laid in my bed all night long, never once blinking
Never once flinching against the pain eating away at my stomach like a parasite
Until it became nearly impossible to bare any longer.
I started seeing my therapist and she saved the life of an afraid 15 year old
The posters in my room turned into images of bands from generation's passed
The blood washed away and I could sleep in my bed again.
I was 16 years old and infatuated with a boy until he touched me the wrong way
And it stained my childhood bed, once the bottom bunk
Which quickly went from a twin to an untouched queen.
I was 18 years old and afraid of living within these four walls my whole life.
The space blue paint taunted me every time I stepped through the old splintery door
My best friend and I painted the walls the color of sunshine in one night in hopes to erase the bad dreams and even worse realities lived here.
I am 20 years old and in a few days I am moving into a new room, into a new home of my own
Away from the warm bathtub that held me when I was ill.
Away from my loving mother who ran her finger through my hair as I cried.
Away from my father and his drunken snores every night in front of a silent television.
Away from my brother and his passionate new discoveries often shared with me.
Away from the stove that helped me create comforting meals that nourished my body for 16 years.
And I am afraid.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
A tablet that is first sweet dissolves on my tongue in hopes that it relieves the feeling of stomach bile rising to my throat.
And as I step into the shower, drool dribbling down my slack chin, it leaves a bitter, almost intolerable taste in my mouth.
My head against the shower wall I’m unable to even wash my own body tonight, the thought of moving my arms to grab the body wash is insurmountable.
Catatonic, my pain turns me into a vegetable, only able to speak few words at a time like a toddler who has just learned to talk.
Afraid of the fluorescent lights as I sit on a thin piece of paper
All for a man in a white coat to prescribe me another pill to create a new sickness in me.
Sleep no longer an escape, for when I wake the stiffness pounds away mercilessly against my skull even more so, like a construction worker with a jack hammer tearing apart pieces of cement.
My skull is splitting in two day by day by day until it can no longer contain me
Maybe then I will find relief
I can only hope so.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 1:18 AM UTC
Here I am, 20 years of age
Still unable to enjoy a beer in a public place
Yet I sit in my best friend's apartment on a Friday night
The glow of the city life shining on me through the singular window
And in my quietness I hear the banter of people likely having lived longer than I
Drunkly sauntering in the cold
And I think I should be envious of their openness
Of their still fully sound youth
But then I realize that my preference to simply observe from afar
Is not of my own fault
But of the people and substances who took my youth away
And it died far too young.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 1:16 AM UTC