she hasn't slept well these days,
beneath a brand new duvet
she lays on her side,
and then sighs;
tosses and turns
like holy wine
inside the glass
of night

the drip,
drop of glorious
sun arrives;

then ******,
prods, over her eyes

she'll wake up,
reach for the phone

and perhaps snooze
it for ten or twenty minutes

finally awake,
she tumbles like a load
of ***** laundry
(the aftermath
of bad habits)

in the sweet,
sickly aroma
of a day to day
existence;

another morning tucked
in the back pocket
as she makes her way
to the door,

locks it

and takes the
heaviness of dreams
for granted.

Maybe I should have
walked on eggshells,
kept my face down,
and only spoke
when spoken to.

It’s not like
she broke my tooth
or cracked a bone.
Even if
the shirts were ripped
at least she didn’t
make me bleed.

If I gave her
the satisfaction,
if I had been meek enough,
Instead of wanting
to laugh and play
buying comic books
when I got paid;

Maybe if I understood
her rage
I wouldn’t have been
slapped in the face,
had my hair pulled,
Or been hit with the broom
the mop, the dust mop,
the brush, the boot,
the belt, or whatever
she could use.

Maybe, I deserved the bruise,
the welt, the agony,
the isolation.
Maybe, I shouldn’t have been born.

It must have been my fault.
It had to be my fault
or else it doesn’t
make any sense at all.

never mind,
i imagine him saying,
you know i lied.
you were never that beautiful.

he called me stunning and i wanted to say i loved him.
i wanted to say there was no mortal above him.

goddess, he said.

--

i'm seventeen and unfulfilled,
running from myself,
but however fast i am i still can't
get away from this place, from me.

self-destructing souvenirs in my head
why won't they burn away already
there's something empty about this bed
and my heart is growing heavy

--

i don't want to treasure you.
diamonds are always cutting me to shreds,
but they're never on my hands
pretty boys, they never take me to bed.

they just say hello to say goodbye.

if i was tinier, i could float away, heavier, i could stand my ground. but until then, i'll just have to stick with being in a limbo between stuck in a ditch and too far gone.

you. you should be nothing to me but the paint chipping off the wall, the broken blind hanging on just barely, the glow in the dark sticker just peeling off the ceiling. but you're not. you are 'i love you' written in the notebook of mine that i keep on the shelf. you're gone too soon in the trail of my mind, you're i love you, i miss you, and 'what the heck is wrong with me?' what's wrong with me?



i grew up in the peach state
back in a small town
where nobody knew your name
unless you were someone
and i wasn't anyone
not anyone important anyway

ooh, take me back to the summer babe
ooh, 'cause everybody knew my name
when i was with you.
take me back, take me back to june

i grew up in a small house,
back in a small town,
where georgia was on your mind
unless you wanted to leave
half of us wanted to leave
leave old georgia behind

ooh, take me back to the summer babe
ooh, 'cause everybody knew my name
when i was with you.
take me back, take me back to june



the floor has started to puddle with my teenage angst that's dripping down the wall and it sticks to my con-clad feet and later to my fingers, and i think this mess is what i got myself into, but i can always get myself out.