eyeshadow ground into
a finely powdered bath rug
feet stained gold and as
straight as sink ringed coffee

(it's a perfect day
to run away
from all the crew neck
collars choking you)

fall face down into a
cornfield and climb
dead pine trees clear
up to the blackbirds

(i think you were once
upon a time the one who
never spent weekends
home and hurting)

i am not your past
not your mistakes
i am not who you used to be
but won't say it didn't shape me

(clattering red and
white checks skittering
across the floor as
hydrogenated oils)

i know you're
disappointed
sometimes in who
i've turned out to be

but i am also
disappointed
sometimes in who
i've turned out to be

(only ever thinking about
ceiling fans and my latest
mistakes or an odd assortment
of unspoken disagreements)

i can't breathe under
highway overpasses
in parking garages or when
my hands are made of leather.

(suburbia is just a
repainted mid-century
modern way of covering
up dysfunctional families)

here and there
then and again
i remember that you
probably don't love me anymore

i understand that
neglect destroyed you
but you don't understand
that involvement destroyed me.

c _ l _ e _ a _ n
d _ i _ s _ h _ e _ s

c _ l _ e _ a _ n
f _ l _ o _ o _ r _ s

something about
the lighting?

i haven't felt
right in days
a headache behind
the eyes and a
knot in my
stomach

(i know how
this one ends)

i'm the most
worst version
of me that i've
ever met

e _ v _ e _ r
m _ e _ t

m_ e _ e _ t _ m _ e
s _ o _ m _ e _ w _ h _ e _ r _ e _ e _ l _ s _ e

I WANT TO
GO BACK IN TIME
TELL MYSELF THAT
I WAS WRONG

W _ R _ O _ N _ G
S _ O __ W _ R _ O _ N _ G

(i'm stuck in my
own head again
can't get out can't shake
any of the thoughts loose)

BUT I CAN'T
THIS IS THE FUTURE
AND I'M JUST AN ECONOMY
PRICED PACK OF MISTAKES

m _ i _ s _ t _ a _ k _ e _ s

i want to hit
my head on every
solid surface in
the whole house

(wouldn't matter
it already hurts)

want to be
better
good enough so
people like me
so that i
like me

(but it's too late
and i'm not ready)

I HATE IT
THAT I'VE MADE
UP MY MIND
FOR ONCE

and if i will not
destruct
i may just turn
myself purple

(red and spotted
itchy and allergic)

BECAUSE I CAN'T
STAND BEING
ME FOR ANOTHER
SECOND LONGER

(i wonder sometimes
if they miss me)

on saturday nights
of poking away on
someone else's laptop

on sunday mornings
of flustered staggered
movements behind backs

(do they miss me
do they even notice that
i'm gone or is somebody
else better than i ever was?)

is anybody else as
frustrated as me?

or was i the exception to
some typographical rule?

and do they wish that
i was still around to fix
all their mistakes

(to get walked on
at short notice)

can they even tell that
i'm not the one behind
the screen anymore?

i don't know
but i wonder

(if anybody
misses me)*

if anybody
remembers me

because i can't
forget them.

i can't even explain
how much i just
love being a
disappointment

(i hate making decisions
because whatever i
choose i will experience
extreme guilt and regret)

how much i love standing
in the kitchen at seven a.m.
being told i'm going back
to therapy until i'm fixed

repairing a car that
keeps on breaking down
is not cost effective
and is very frustrating

(you get mad when i don't
say what i'm really thinking
but when i say what i'm
thinking nobody listens)

i just love staying up
all night and not
breathing for a week
and never going outside

(avoiding churches
certain music
riding in cars
parking garages
elevators
crowded places)

being surrounded
and told that i just
have to face my fear
because i am

i do it every morning
when i wake up and
remember that
i'm still alive.

i'm picturing that
big blue house
off library street
and thinking

(also planning
on telling everyone
i've become catholic
if the need arises)

about the assorted
times i've spent there
assorted times i've
avoided spending there

(but maybe a different
religion would make
a better lie i've got
to keep it believable)

fully planning
on at least one
anxiety attack after
i get home

(maybe something like
buddhism or celtic polytheism
i'd say satinism for the laughs
but that's just too extreme)

maybe more
like a whole
half week of
anxiety

(oh wait no need
to plan for that
i've already built
my life counting on it)

religion
what a messy
situation when
you've got one
but you don't
believe in it

chaos
what a simple
chain of events
that follows an
internal denial of
right and wrong

(when all i wanted
was christianity
internally not
relationally or
socially or
judgmentally)

and what a dark
mentality that a
nice person has
light inside

(a mentality of
honesty is one
of many things
i try to hide)

on the other side
i don't believe or agree
with catholicism
but it sounds like
something i
could get into.

*(but if admission into
heaven were half priced
wouldn't there be scores
of folks and media masses
on the ground and in the air
reporting new religious traffic?)

i'm not who i
used to be

(and can't remember
who that was exactly)

my hands shake

uncontrollably
and i can't focus

except on mistakes

(there's a monster
sitting in my chest)

i can't sleep
can't think

can't

think

can't

breathe

(there's a monster
living in my chest)

can't

breathe

i remember being
younger
and the black cloud
over my head
was some kind of
novelty

something weird
that would go away
someday if i
changed my attitude
shaped up and
started trying harder.

well i tried
tried my hardest
to push through
did my best to
smile when things
got too rough

i tried to be
the kind of person
they wanted
me to be

(i tried hard
but black holes
inside souls don't
just get filled)

i _ t _ r _ i _ e _ d

t _ r _ i _ e _ d

*(try switching just
two little letters)*

t _ i _ r _ e _ d

i _ m _ t _ i _ r _ e _ d

(is it worth
being real
if you're
sad?)

and i still
still
after all
these years

i am still being
told that all
i need to do is
look on the
bright side
remember there
are people out
there who have
it much worse than me

that i'm going
to get through it
if i just give it
time and try harder

t _ r _ y _ h _ a _ r _ d _ e _ r
t r y

i _ v _ e _ t _ r _ i _ e _ d
a _ n _ d __ t _ r _ i _ e _ d

b _ u _ t _ i _ m
t _ i _ r _ e __ d

i can't keep
you happy and
me happy at the
same time and
quite frankly
i'm tired of
neither of us
being happy.

*(i'm sure you get
tired of hearing
from me but just
imagine how tired
you would get if
you tried being me.)

i went outside for a walk
took a shower when i got in

(we're not going to talk
about how i slept until
eleven and went back to
bed from one to four)

calluses coming back
to the bottoms of my feet
and those scabs and sores
on my scalp again

i tried to lower my
own standards
because i wasn't able
to meet them today

(but that leaves me
feeling like i've failed)

and i don't know how
to say what's on my mind

(i think i've hit
rock bottom
but if i made it to here
i could probably go lower)

sleep deprivation is
absolutely natural
because nothing feels real
even when i'm rested

(help)

i'm incredibly sorry
for most things i do

*(never mind.)

i'm going to be
woken up when
september ends to
i will see october first

(i'm scared to
death of living
but i'll try it for
awhile anyway)

and sure i lay
in bed until noon
most mornings
a hot dim
reconfigured dream
trying to find
reasons any
reason

(i couldn't today
didn't feel like music
didn't want coffee
didn't want to talk to friends
didn't want breakfast
didn't want to create
didn't want
didn't)

replaying your face
bathed in two a.m. blue light
telling me that i had to
keep going and that
maybe it was selfish
but you couldn't handle
the rest of your life
without me in it

(we were both crying
by the time we went to bed
and i'm crying again
when i think about it)

you know those mornings
when you wake up and know
that before the sun goes down
your face will have felt tears?

yeah it was
one of those

(and tears aren't pretty
just kind of watery)

and by the time i had a
cup of tea and was sitting
at the kitchen table i was
sobbing my eyes out

(i am so
tired)

i couldn't help it
can't help any of this

(i am so
*******
tired of being
broken in half)

and i am so
tired of fighting
to find a reason to
get out of bed.

i've heard the songs
about killing pain

sounding like the only
way is with a vinyl
record and several
shots of something strong

(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables)

it's a stack of cds
still shrinkwrapped so
they shine like diamonds
a discard pile scratched and
cracked so i know that
life keeps skipping on

a fourth cup of coffee
to send my heart
rattling and my
hands shaking

(i've wished to be in
love before just so
my heartbreak could
someday be justified
but i can let the music
paint that picture easy)

buffering lyric videos
sprawled out in bed
watching the light grow
brighter behind the curtains

finding myself addicted
to pain and freezing cold
because i need the white
noise of a fan at night

*(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables
sometimes it's just old
boomboxes and black tea)