Signaling smoke
In the summer sky,
You could've seen the signs
Miles away.
My parents' marriage
Went up in flames.

I wasn't afraid of fire
When I was a child.
I was brought up
Under the black locust trees,
With dirt paths
Beat with bare feet
Into the woods.
And the smell of smoke
Was normal on my clothes,
I could start a fire when I was so young,
I don't even remember my age.

I wasn't afraid of fire.

So when it
Licked
The bottoms of my feet
As I sat on the wooden bridge
Built across the battle trench
Between my parents
I wasn't worried,
Not really.

When it collapsed
Every child ran to what looked like
The safer side,
Which we each had different
Opinions of.

I walked out
With white ash
On my eyelashes
Like delicate, fluttering snowflakes.
My nose burned, and it sometimes
Hurt to breathe.
My body was covered in soot,
It blended my skin into
The night,
And I felt safer there.

I am building a bridge now.

It's a work in progress,
It will be years before it's done,
But we're building with steel
Not wood.
And I'm slowly
Washing my body
Of the black powdered residue,
And breathing out the smoke.

The only problem is,
First I have to cross the bridge
I lived on
As a child.
See the brittle places
Where it caught flames,
And repaire the flaws left by it
In my head
So that our bridge binding
Him and me won't ignite.

I was never afraid of fire.

But I'm afraid of what it does.
Try walking on a charcoal bridge,
A burnt up marriage,
Divorce,
Still smoking.
Tell me
That isn't terrifying...
Try.
It's hard to know
Where to put your feet
So you don't fall.
And I'm not past that bridge yet,
So sometimes
I forget
That I'm not her,
And he's not him.

I have parts of her face,
I have features that are his.

I have some of their problems.

But I'm crossing that bridge
After they burned it.

I love the storm,
I like the shudder in you chest,
When the thunder pounds it's fist
I love the wind,
Twisted and powerful,
And graceful,
Bending leafy giants to their knees.
I like the rain,
Soft, and gentle,
Stinging,
And forgiving.

I like the way you're strong.
The way you manage to stand,
When you think you can't.
I love the feeling of my heart
Escaping from my chest
Making a leap for yours.
I love the boom
Of your quiet "I love you,"
Ringing in my ears.

I adore the way you dance,
Taking my nervous
Clumsiness into your stride,
A graceful power,
All kept under control,
But the lightning
Reflecting in your
Blue sky eyes.

I like the way you're soft,
And tender.
The way your words mean things,
Make me think
Even if it isn't always easy.
I love the gentle feeling of your warmth,
After the blasting heat of a Hell like
Oven.
The way you feel like home.

I love the storm,
I like the shudder in you chest,
When the thunder pounds it's fist.
I love the wind,
Twisted and powerful,
Bending leafy giants to their knees.
I like the rain,
Soft, and gentle,
Stinging,
And forgiving.

I love you.

The flowers were a dizzying kaleidoscope
Of orange,
Red,
Yellow,
And purple,
The wine glasses glittered in the lowlight
Easily distracting my eye,
Tempting my mind into a past memory with candlelight and soft touches.

My father commanded the room.
His voice still makes me feel sick
When I hear the beginning of frustration in it.
I begin to cower inside
Whenever his tone is stressed,
I think of him hitting my mother.
It disgusts me that he prayed a blessing over a brand new marriage.

As we bowed our heads in polite resignation,
And I felt alone again...
Cast away by a father who terrifies me,
And again,
By a lover
Who found me too overwhelming.
I listened to the nightmare of my childhood’s voice drone on,
Addressing God,
And the beautiful flowers and gowns faded away
To lonely darkness.

Then,
Pulling me from a fearful stupor,
My little sister’s hand
Held my own,
we laced our fingers together
Under the pure white table cloth,
Squeezing gently.
The words coming from the lips
Of the man who induced my first trauma,
And the memory of the man I missed so much,
Were cleared from my mind;
And all that remained
Were the words of my sister,
“What do I always say? I love you more than any boy ever could.”

The audacity of humanity
To constantly attempt
To imitate perfection
In so many forms
Is baffling,
And yet
Beautiful.

It’s a small town,
A Silhouette of an eyelash
On the horizon,
“Sneeze and you’ll miss it.”
It’s home to the bustling store
Where I worked.

He came in with his daughter
Some days,
He gets her on the weekends,
Sharing custody with his almost ex
Wife.
Dave, he’s tall at a telephone pole,
And he tries not to eat sugar,
He hates IPA.

This morning he came in,
And announced that anyone
Who tried to put structure in his life
He ended up leaving.

I like structure.
I like lists,
Things that match,
Objects having a home,
A balanced finances book,
And color coding.

When I was young
I coveted men like this,
"free spirits"
who come and go as they please.

I am still young,
but old enough to know,
I want more.

Being loved
In return.

My father's hands
were so large
my child hands could only hold
*******.
My high school sweetheart's  hands
were long and spindly,
and soft from lack of work.

You can smell the lake right now.

I'm sitting on my doorstep
With the sunshine starting to sink
And blurring
My vision.
Thinking.

The other day
My therapist asked me,
How often do I feel safe,
Content,
And at peace?

Rarely.

For a while
A felt it only with him,
The sunshine in my life.
But I want to feel it on my own.

There are kittens playing
On our patio,
I've got my crocheting
Wrapping around me,
It's peaceful.
And I'm even on my own.

You can smell the lake right now.

“I like to rev my engine at the top of this hill,”
He said.
You would’ve said
‘Hey look, someone with no ****.’
He has a big truck,
And a doofy smile,
You have a sleek little car,
And a goofy laugh.

We rode around for hours
Just talking.
That’s not an unfamiliar concept to me.

He pulled over
And pulled me close,
And I remembered when you pulled over
And told me to get out
And look up,
Up,
Up,
At the stars.

“You know,
You help me,
I help you.
You said you were going crazy.”
In the back of my head
I heard your voice say
‘He just wants to get into your pants.’
Which I wanted to yell I’m okay with.

“It feels so good, I don’t want it to stop,” he moaned.
You don’t moan,
And I recall you saying
‘You’re not good at handjobs.’

I’m trying to suppress
Your voice.
It has a say in everything I do.
In every man
There’s comparison
To you.
In every kiss,
Every touch,
Every lonely night...
You’re hiding,
And giving your opinion
From the sidelines.

Last night.
It was as if we were strangers
Passing each other
On the street,
Instead of almost twenty years
Of history.

But it didn’t hurt.
It felt...
Okay.

to hear my own voice,
I cry to hear nothing
but the pounding of my own blood
in my ears.

still look at his facebook.
You know,
just to see what he's doing,
who he's hurting.

“Can I just sleep here?”
He exhaled, exhausted.
The past month
He’d been carrying my worries along side me,
Regardless of his own.
He bought me drink
After drink,
Made me food,
Of course he could sleep here,
He was my friend.

We can control ourselves.

A hug goodnight
To my housemate
And I got changed in the bathroom,
Stumbling down the hall.
He was already in my bed,
All wrapped up in my red blanket.
His shirt and pants were on the floor
In a heap.
“Are you just in your boxers?”
I asked, uncomfortable.
“It’s the only way I can sleep.”

I got under my quilt,
Careful to keep my body from his,
Pressing myself against my wall.
He put one arm around me,
And one under my pillow
Like a halo above my head,
In exactly the way he did
When we were together.
He pulled my red blanket over me, and I felt his warm skin.

I pulled away from him,
I could feel his *******.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
He buried his face in my neck,
And he let out a contented sigh.

How did I get here?

I kept picturing him with his ex wife,
He kept telling me they’re working things out,
And it’s going well.
He’s happy.
So why is he here right now?
Why is my heart breaking all over again?
I worked so hard to be friends,
To be content as friends.

“Your **** is up against my ****.”
“Sorry, I’ll move my leg.”
And he did for a moment.
His hand went under my shirt,
Stroking my stomach.
My breathing got heavier,
I was a terrifying mixture of fear
And anticipation.

I knew I should stop him...

But I didn’t expect it to go farther...

Too many drinks,
I couldn’t think.

He pushed his crotch up against me again.
I wriggled away,
Body tense
Trying to remember
He isn’t mine.
He moved with me,
Not allowing an inch between us.

His hand moved down my stomach,
Down to my hips,
Down...
Down...
Down.
I pulled his hand out.
“What are you doing?!”
“Just helping you out.”
His hand goes back down,
I pull away again.
“Think about what you’re doing,
Think about her.”
“We aren’t exclusive yet.”
He’s back,
Touching me the way he knows I love.
But he shouldn’t be...
He shouldn’t be.

“Just a one time relapse...”
He finishes me off,
And I turn away from him,
Ashamed I let him.
He pulls at the back of my sweat pants
“Rob...”
Pulls down...
Down...
Down.
“You’re not going to be okay if we do this, are you?”
“I’d be fine, it’s you I’m worried about.
What about her?”
“It’ll just be once.”

Just once.

It was technically consensual,
But having to specify
Over and over again,
Hurts.
It shouldn’t have happened without certainty,
Even if I said yes.

And none of my friends know
that I'm attracted to women.

I'll never tell
people I've known
since I was
fresh out of the garden of toddlerhood.

I'll never tell them that I,
another woman,
Can appreciate the art of *******,
the beautiful curve of female legs.

I can hide behind
the fact that I also like men.

There's so much
I still can't say
in this era of freedom
and pride
and acceptance.

Remember that one book
About the girl with cancer?
The one with that scene about metaphors?

It wasn’t quite my style,
But I remember that part.
Something about
“Hold what can **** you between your teeth,”
Said a boy with cancer
And a cigarette.

I,
A girl,
A **** survivor,
And child born into a life
Of domestic violence,
Hold men in my arms.

Naked,
Against my *******,
Between my legs.
I hold them
And know,
To take something dangerous
And hold it under my control
Before it kills me.

Right now,
It feels as if
I've thrown myself
Into a TV of flipping channels,
The static pixels
Are dripping down my back,
And stinging my eyes.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

You've cut people out
Of your life,
Like meticulously crafted
Paper snowflakes,
And I feel myself folding
To be cut next.

My life is vibrating in my scull,
I'm fumbling with the images,
And I don't feel like I'm touching
Anything,
Especially not you.

I'd like to rip a part
Every
Single
Day,
And make a collage,
With the yellows and greys,
The kisses down my neck,
And play all our mean words
On vinyl
As I glue it all together.

I can't reach you,
Not through your brain,
An underachiever like myself,
Can't bust into there,
And I'm scratching
At the glass coating on your heart,
But I don't want to break it.

I've stopped reminding myself
Why I do
What I do,
Why I don't fight you anymore.
I've let myself crash into
A kaleidoscope
Of colors,
And start drowning
A sea of coursing
TV static
Channels.
Because it's easier
Than losing you.

But I hush my thoughts now,
Because it may all be
My crazy anxiety
Ripping up my brain,
Again.

I was naked today
In front of a crowd of people.

I danced naked,
The colors of my skin
Caught the light,
The curves of my body,
The secret parts

I was naked for an audience.

I read my poetry
In a lowlit room,
With art covering the walls.

I was emotionally naked

And everything
Had happened
The way they promised
It wouldn’t.

What's the truth?
What's true?
The truth is
he hurt me.
The question is
which "he"?
There's been so many.

I remember
When people looked at me
As if I
Were beautiful.

Images shifting together,
Pretty colors
Everywhere.
You stare into your beautiful
Kaleidoscope.

Spinning around the enchanting
Light,
The memories you hold so dear,
You see the world
Through your lovely images,
Through your beautiful
Kaleidoscope,
Hiding all of the anger and pain.

I tried to pry
The gold plated memories
Out of your hands,
Gripping them so tightly,
Your knuckles are white.
But you're stuck in your realm,
Of dancing colors
And smiles
That never happened.

You love your kaleidoscope,
More than you
Love
Me.

I wore red
Thigh high
High healed
Boots
Last night.

“Could I please get a whisky neat?”

The night was deliciously cool,
The air was fresh and green.
Twinkling soft yellow lights,
And neon signs.

I just want to forget
The lonely feeling in the back
Of my head
As I watched you two
Play darts
For the first time,
Laughing and kissing.

“Could I get another whisky neat, please?”

I laughed with a girl at the bar
Who had bright red hair.
I’m trying to learn how to do this,
How to meet people,
How to find someone else
To help me forget about him.

The two of you
Fit together so neatly,
So effortlessly.
You got nervous
(We’re only just twenty-one)
And forgot to order
The shot to go in your Diet Coke,
So he ordered you one,
And dumped it in on the sly,
So you wouldn’t be embarrassed.

“Another whisky, please?”

I made it down the stairs
And pretended
I was in control.
I didn’t want to be in control,
I don’t want to be in control,
I’m so controlled.
My heals tapping
On the bricks outside,
I merrily lead the way
To bar number two.
I want to do
Everything he said I couldn’t.

“Could I get a pint of the Hopshire beer, please?”

New places,
New faces,
Movies make this look so easy.
Soft yellow light,
Exposed brick walls.
It’s a little fuzzy...
I don’t want to think about him.

I don’t want to think about him.

I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT HIM.

I always thought I
Was above this sort of thing,
But my head was spinning,
Our glasses were clinking,
And my boots
Got harder to walk in.

You’re so happy together,
And I wish I had that.

This light used to stand on his desk.

I can still smell the vanilla bean candle
And it's fraternal twin
Fresh linen
On his rusty filing cabinet
With a peeling red "Employee terminated"
Sticker
On it's belly.

He had a plastic mat
On the floor
So his rolling chair
Could go from one desk to another,
It was clear plastic
Tinged yellow
From age.
I liked to walk on it with bare feet,
And feel the contrast of the cool
Against the ragged carpet.

His files were always a mess,
Even when I had sorted them out
The day before.
I'm told things were better
Before he started working from home,
but I can't judge
I don't remember.

Words still ring in my head
Caught somewhere in his handle bar
Moustache,
And the landline
With his uniform way
of answering the phone.
And his uniform way
Of screaming.

As I write
By the light
Of his gold painted desk lamp,
Which always gets too hot
If you leave it on long enough,
I can't help but remember.
He never really left this house.
His boxes of memory inducing belongings
Are still at the top of the stairs,
And the seventies linoleum
Is still under my feet
With the shaggy gold carpet.

Divorce
Didn't mean
My father disappeared,
It meant his images,
And his voice
Would be wandering through
Our household appliances
Waiting for us to turn the corner
And see,
And have to start forgetting
All
Over
Again.

His Face is woven into
My DNA,
And I'm woven into
A string of lost jobs,
And a wife he didn't love.
And I don't like him
Existing in my new life,
But he dances his way
Through each line I write,
Like a last *******
To the daughter who wouldn't listen.

I wonder if you ever forget
The blood that didn't want you.
Because I haven't forgotten yet

Even if I've mentally buried you,
And left your carcass to rot
In the past years,
You still come back
In late night lights.

Two nights in a row
I came home to the panicked
Flapping of wings
In the garage.

A bird,
Crying and flying
Circling the garage ceiling,
With the door
Wide
Open.

I picked up a mop
Hanging on the wall,
Brandished it like a saber,
And ran in circles around the car
Trying to convince
The sparrow
That there was
A way of escape.

Panicking,
Crying,
Flying
In circles,
And all you have to do
Is leave.

Every time
I am angry,
Every time
I yell,
I feel like I am failing.

I want to talk to the world,
And have it hear me.
I want to whisper,
And have it matter.

But I don’t matter
Unless I make myself matter.
You can’t hear me
Unless I make you.

You listen when I’m angry,
But every time I am angry
I feel like I’m failing.
Every time I yell,
I feel the crazy
Buried underneath
Surfacing,
And I punish myself
For days.

I want to matter to you,
In my silence,
I want to matter,
When I’m calm.

I want to stop failing.

I want you to hear me.

I’m skin deep today.
Only as internal
As facepaint.

I’m winding
The idea
Of loneliness
Around my fingers

Weaving it
In and out
Between my knuckles

I knit my brow
My fingers
And my legs together

Leave my future
To the future,
And content myself
In
Myself.

Room temperature beer,
Petal pink bra,
Grey sweatpants that should be in the wash.

A sip of beer
And then a deap exhale.

Ink smudging my fingertips.

Two pillows,
One person.

One person,
And a lukewarm beer.

You've seen these sights
Through my poetry,
My romanticized words.
Now look at them with your own eyes
Scrutinize
My rose colored glasses.

You've unwrapped my body
In all it's flawed glory,
I've let you into my very skin,
You breathe with me
As you stroke my hair.
You've seen through my words
Like a blind man
Feeling out the world.
And here we are,
Here we are,
I hope I don't disappoint you,
You see I love beauty,
And I love to describe it,
I love to skip over the ugly parts,
Until the last moment,
As a slap in the face dose of reality.

But I didn't try and talk you
Into one of my fantasy worlds
When I lay before you
In bare vulnerability.
The truth is I didn't want to.

I've made strangers
See glassy lakes,
And golden
Drying flowers,
And music in silence,
And hardship in laughter,
Yet it was you
Who loved these things,
That I wanted to see
The harsh nothing,
The vacancy
Behind my eyes.

So this is my world,
It's nothing special,
Hardly what I made it seem,
Just a central New York
Dream.
But here you are,
More beautiful than any dream,
Looking upon my reality.

I want to
Sink beneath
The floor boards
Into the world of lost things,
And have tea with fanciful
Hopes
And their finery,
Of golden stitched silk
Purple Table cloths,
And tea sets as silver as
Someone's lost love's
Eyes.

Then I'll dine with a few dreams,
Perhaps I'll run into a couple of mine,
And we'll sit and converse
About old times.
I'll walk the streets
And gaze at miss-match
Barbie shoes,
Lego pieces,
And pocket knives,
Even several pieces of candy,
And earrings
Divorced from their partners.

I'll sit amongst melodies
On the bus
That musicians had fall
From their thoughts,
Playing all at once over the years
They've fallen in sink
With one another.
I do wonder what the great composers
Would say about such a symphony,
At first I did not enjoy it,
But as the bus ride carried on
Toward 'lost change lane'
I began to find them rather pleasing.

Pennies and nickels
Do bore you
After a while,
So I proceeded
To where the missing stories
Gathered.
Each would try and approach you,
Then spew out a bit of a story and
Stop mid sentence,
Such as,
"She ran as fast as she could
From one door to another,
Opening each in turn and slamming them
Closed.
A perplexing face..."
Or
"I wonder if I shall be the villain
Of my own story...
Or if I shall play no part at all,
But I should think I will at..."
And so on.

I strolled on
To lost memories
Which all seemed fuzzy,
So I walked on
And
Let me tell you,
The land of missing teeth
Goes on for eternity,
And miss placed time,
Longer still.

I think I should be content
To stay with the lost things
Forever,
For
Somehow I feel
I belong.

Golden cheesy pasta,
And golden shining hair.
Comfy clothes and cuddling.
Look at us,
Our family's sinners
Rotten to our cores.

We've got painted toe nails,
And colorful vocabularies.
I got the first tattoo in our
Conservative family,
And you're our first
Real
Live
Gay.

I sit in the sanctuary
Of my religion,
And lay in my bed of sin.
You live in a back country town,
Where all the boys want to
"Turn you straight."

We're a couple of museum
Rejects,
Kicked out of the family
Hall of fame.
But it's okay,
It's okay,
Because Goonies
Never say die.

Does she see her face
In his glasses,
And does he see her as his reflection?

Eventually you stop looking at each other
And start looking at this third person
In your relationship named "Marriage".
They're an unconfident,
Sensitive being,
And they demand a lot of attention.

If he reached his hands out,
Would he reach her?
Or would he be reaching for Marriage?

"I'm trying to fix our marriage."
"I want to fight for our marriage."
"We need to work hard for our marriage."
Like Marriage is some sort of pet
In your dysfunctional relationship.

Marriage is a verb,
Not a noun.
I want to see you all push aside this invisible
Idea,
This pet,
This person,
This thing you put before
Your best friend for life.

Fight for him.
Fight for her.
Don't fight for an illusion,
Live out your vows,
And your actions.
Don't just scream them at each other.

At the end of the day,
Who are you spending time with?
Him?
Her?
or Marriage?

“I learned the truth
At seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skin.”

I learned the truth
At twenty-one,
I was sad, recently single,
Sitting in a black truck
Dark as the night
Turning our bodies
Into silhouettes,
When he took my hand firmly in his
And moved it down his body
Onto his *******
And I told myself
This is what I wanted.

I learned the truth at seventeen
That men want to touch you,
And they don’t always care
Whether or not you want them to.
I learned it when my high school sweetheart
Pressed himself into my *******,
When he pushed his hand
Into my ******* and touched me,
And I recoiled.

I learned the truth at thirteen
When my mother left my father,
And he didn’t want me.
We had a relationship of convenience,
He was only my father
When I was easily accessible
And easy to deal with.

I learned the truth
At nineteen,
When my high school sweetheart
Forced his **** into me
The last time I ever saw him.
I learned that men don’t always
Care about no,
And safewords don’t keep you safe.

I learned the truth
At twenty-one
That men want someone
Thirty years younger than them,
And that the attention
I got felt good
After years of not feeling good enough.

I learned the truth
Mere weeks before I was twenty
That I wanted a man to touch me again,
And I wanted to feel safe.
I lost my virginity
With a man carved out of sunshine,
And I watched his light die
Almost two years later.

I learned the truth at twenty-one,
That I will never trust anyone,
That love was meant for nice girls,
With pastel sweaters
And clear skin,
With nice two parent homes,
And high school sports trophies.
I learned that I am the only one,
Who will ever take care of
Me.

I knew what men were made of.
Clunky boots
And booming voices.
I knew that alcohol
And smoke
Ran through their veins.

It was truth to me,
Reality.
I understood
That men’s hands were rough
And unrelenting.
That comic books and video games
Are a tempting guise.
Men were made of anger
And demands.
***, power,
and the confusion of the two

But then I met you.
And you’re made of cigar smoke
And cartoons.
Flannel shirts and midnight laughter.
You’re whiskey neat
Gently touching my face
Simply for the pleasure of being near me.

You’re conviction
And ADD,
Religion and cups of black coffee.
I keep waiting for a break
In your love.
I search for the lie
In your kindness.
But you watch TV with your baby sister,
And look for solutions to my worries.
You laugh when I get hot under the collar
And insist on buying me chocolate,
Because you know I’m too polite to ask.

It’s nothing earth shaking,
It isn’t running to each other in the rain.
Not a dozen roses,
Or diamonds.
But I know now
That men aren’t made
Of scary things in the dark.
I know that you’re you,
And I’m yours.

It’s not my home anymore,
Just a place I live.
Childhood is a long rope,
And I’ve hit the end.

It’s not good to come home
Anymore,
It feels better to run away.

According to banking Research
This county’s living wage is $14.28,
Which is a whole lot more than I make,
But I’m still supposed to get by,
And I do.

They sigh when I come home now.

I’m a burden,
And unwelcome.
I’ve reached the end of childhood,
And I fantasize about looping the end of that rope
Into a noose.

Im parked in our driveway,
Hoping they’re still asleep
So I can just slip in
Like a shadow on the wall.
It’s not good to come home anymore
I look for any excuse to get away.

It’s not home,
It’s just a house that I live in.

The blankets are waves.

I’m a small sliver
Of a silver fish
Trapped in the current.

I’ve had sunlit days
In my rolling waves,
And I’ve met terrors in the deep,
Been held down,
Unable to gulp water through my mouth
Hungry
For oxygen.

I’ve been chased by monsters,
Befriended golden fish.
I’ve had dreams in its depths.

My bed is an ocean.

A sun soaked,
Dark,
Beautiful,
Polluted ocean.

Ed,
Eddie,
Wants to fall in love.
He has plants in his kitchen.
He keeps a washcloth
On his bathroom sink
On it rests his comb,
His toothbrush,
And toothpaste,
All in a neat row.
He takes me to the lake
To look out at the water,
Because he knows
It makes me feel like I’m home.

Rob,
Wants to conquer
And tame me.
He wants
To be the one I choose
Just to win.
He kisses me
At midnight in the rain
Out in the dark
On a hidden sidewalk,
Slips his hand
Down the front of my *******
And plays with my ****.
He says it’s the danger
Of being caught.

James,
Stone,
Jamie,
Wants to sleep with me,
But also doesn’t want
To feel guilty.
So he hides my messages
From his partner
And assures me
She knows he’s polyamorous.

Me?
What do I want?
What do I need?
Peace.
Peace I won’t find
In any of them,
Only myself.
But I have to fight battle,
After battle,
To get there.
So exhausted,
I retreat into their distraction,
And I warn them all,
Of each other’s existence,
And that I don’t want anything real.

But I sing to Eddie,
As I lay on his chest.
I listen to Rob,
As I hold him in my bed.
I nurture James,
Help him cultivate his individuality.
So they think
Maybe they’re important.
And really,
They are.
I can’t help but have them be.

But I can’t handle important right now.

I can’t find comfort
In the thought of being squeezed
Into something I’m not
Again.
I won’t allow myself
To be contorted
Into a shape
That fits their desires.

Eddie wants
To fall in love.

Rob wants
To win me.

James wants
To have release.

And I...
I just want
To find me.

There's a wall,
A rather odd wall,
Towering over the trees.

Made of glass bricks,
Giving you the illusion
It's not actually there,
But you can't really
See through them.

There's a portion
Made up of carnival
Mirrors,
And lined notebook
Paper,
And pens.

There's a paper flower vine,
Every few feet.
And a herd of excuses
Here
         And
                   There.

Some half painted
Canvas',
And song lyrics,
And poem verses
Stretching highest.

And a mile of it
Made of nights I held
A cold wash cloth to my face,
So no one could tell I was crying.
And a few bricks of a
Sense of ongoing.
And some cement blocks
Mixed with loneliness
And longing.
All dribbled over
With coffee, mod podge
and candle wax.

There's a boy,
A rather strange boy,
Trying to dig through
The laughs and jokes,
With nothing
But a couple well place words.

There's a fire,
Started by a lighter
In my hand,
On the inside of the wall.
The laughs and jokes,
Giggle nervously
As they're tossed away,
And evaporated.

But they keep
Breeding,
With the smiles
And sarcasm,
And everything I use
To keep people
Out.

And maybe,
I'm not trying.
Maybe sometimes,
We grow to love
Our mighty walls.
But maybe we all need to
Remember...
They aren't only blocking out
What we're afraid of,
But what we hope for.

I sit, listening to you talk about
our hair brained scheme
to make me a writer.
All you do is support.

Every phase meets your unwavering love.
No fear in my latest poison being forever.
No scolding me
because you worry
I'll never get better.

Instead you proof read,
plan,
love,
and support.

Never do I feel as if my failure
would cause you to be
disappointed
in me.
Never do I worry
any success
would make jealousy burn
between your ears.

Instead you listen,
you love,
you cultivate.

I am not a thing to you,
I am a small sapling
you water,
and trim the dead parts off of.
I am an investment,
you already accept
an unknown ending to.

another thing
for people to judge me by,
even though they're just another way
to keep breathing.
But they're visible,
and all things visible are judged.

We all slowly grew up.

Stopped sewing patches of fabric
Into our shirts
To hide our *******,
Replaced the Christian music on our shelves and playlists
With pop, and emo songs,
Or old rock and roll.
Toby Mac was slowly retired to the thrift store,
And some of us stopped going to church.
In some small way,
I’m sure it felt to our parents
As if Jesus had died all over again.

Our vocabularies changed,
The lists of things we wouldn’t do before marriage became shorter
And shorter,
Until to some,
They were non existent.

Alcohol became as regular
As morning coffee,
And ****
A little extra seasoning.

Self destruction
Instead of
Preserving
The purity
Our parents forced on us
From day one.

The door opened,
It flew open.
There’s something about a door being opened
That was closed your entire
Life
That makes you want to go in.

Easter outfits
And gold cross necklaces
Turned into tattoos
And nose rings.
We got out into the world
And discovered
That people who don’t throw
Bible verses around
Like confetti
Aren’t bad,
And the cautionary tales of our youth
Were something we wanted to try.

Red nail polish
Was considered promiscuous,
And now it’s a tame
Contribution to our wardrobes.
Our first tattoos
Made some of our parents cry.

No more
Sending us back to our rooms
To change out of
An outfit
Unfit
For church,
No more warning
About wearing colors
That are too bright.

I study verses
And wonder
What God thinks
Of his people dressing up
His dying son
Like a trick poodle at a circus.
Displaying him proudly
When he does what they want,
Hoping the crowd won’t notice
When he ignores
Their orders.

We all slowly grew up,
And I found my own faith.
A kinder one,
With a loving just God.

You were my dream
When I was sixteen,
And my nightmare
Three years later.
Every time I think
I’m starting to forget you
I wake up from a nightmare
Facing your
Cold
Blue
Eyes,
And
Hot
Hot
Breath,
And I know I can never forget.

Have you ever
Wanted to
Disappear?

Be a walking pair
Of invisible
Eyes and ears.

Give in to your bloodlust
For information
And appalling
Curiosity.

Find out
What he
Really thinks of me.
What he says about me
Behind my back.

Have you ever
Wanted to
Disappear?

Be a nothing.

Exist
Merely
As a part
Of an ever changing
Glorious universe.
Feel the vibrations
And the warmth,
The cold
And the wind.

Not have to live
With the responsibility
Of making anyone happy.
Not me.
I wouldnt have to be happy.

Have you ever wanted to disappear?

Breathe in,
Look at the date,
Look at the time,
Count on your fingers
The reasons I'm still here,
And register,
This is the last time,
I'm honest about myself
To you
Ever
Again.

Remember not to forget
This is why you’re leaving.
Because no one truly
Wants you here.

Remember not to forget
This is why you run to men
Who don’t look at you
As more than just
Young meat
Ripe
And vulnerable.
Because it feels better
To experience
Their desire
Than to feel alone.

Remember not to forget
This isn’t your home anymore.
No one wants you here,
They’re counting down the second
Until you’re gone.

It’s a beautiful ride.
Everything that only matters
To you is there.

My drive has shoulder kisses,
And my favorite beer,
Jasmine tea,
And honey.

There’s miles and miles of green leaves,
Look up at the sky
And there’s snow encrusted trees.

Pots of coffee,
And smiles from practically strangers,
But at the end?

What’s at the end?

No where.

All the way things I find
Joy in,
The things that I live for,
Don’t take me anywhere.

There's only so long
You can hide behind social
Status,
And which clothes you wore,
And who was smartest.
You end up
In one of many places
When high school finally ends.

Maybe you were smart,
And wore pastel cardigans,
And you ended up in a pristine
University
Accross the country,
That you hate.

Maybe you're working
Full time,
In a little farm store,
Where the men there
Treat you like meat.

Maybe you're part time
Trapped
In a preserved piece
Of old America,
With guns hanging
Far above your head,
And beer signs
Tattooing the side of the building.

You'll be stuck in one
Of many places,
But wherever you are,
You'll have no idea where
You're going,
Because no one
Is telling
You
What to do
Anymore.

There's a woman
Falling from the sky
Made up of graphite,
Begging me to catch her.

There's young girls
With red ink
Streaked accross their backs
And arms,
Pleading for my help.

This is my world
Of condemned people.

There's lines about
Characters without
Redemption
Asking me what happens next,
Hoping I'll pull them out.

There's a soft world of white
Before me,
I tear at it with my pen,
I scratch trauma
And loathing into its core.

Paper is my world,
I am the god of this
Crumpled up planet.
And a broken god
Makes a broken world.

This world I've made,
You may not understand it,
Be fearful, for I command it.
No one can tell me
What to do here.

You should be more careful
Who you lend
Your ears.
I'll draw lines through you,
And rewrite your future.
Welcome to my paper world.