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Feb 6 · 77
Closeted Apparitions
Kellin Feb 6
fuel desperation,
and so are valuable
assets in the game
of spinning chambers.

one ***** is all it takes.

you might not believe
a person still wading
through adolescence
could harbor such
malevolent intent.

one slight is all it takes.

age is barely even
a consideration when
haunted by the desire
for revenge or need
of self-preservation.

one fragile moment is all it takes.

fewer years simply
equate to shallower
perspective, exacerbating
youthful impulsivity.

one bullet is all it takes.
Jan 14 · 132
Kellin Jan 14
if you do still care, Lord, please keep me safe.
Jan 12 · 176
i was supposed to sleep?
Kellin Jan 12
thoughts bulleted
in my brain, ricocheting,
creative side to practical side,
lustful half to hateful half.
sleep? yeah, right.

i got up, located cleanser
and sponge, scrubbed
the bathroom,
washed the dishes,
waxed the kitchen floor.

wrote a four- page
letter to my sister,
told her i was in love.
with a girl.
i think i asked
for her forgiveness.

wrote a poem, and epic, tinged
with dark humor,
decided to give it to my mom
because this was all her fault.

went to the bathroom,
considered my ground stomach,
but the thought of food made me want to heave.
settled for a beer. That went down fine,
so I had another.
and another.
Jan 10 · 61
the wind blew up
Kellin Jan 10
my mind raced.
my heart joined in.
i shook my head,
mute as snowfall.

what could i say?
that some stranger
inside me couldn’t
keep his eyes off her?

i felt him stir, like a
breeze blowing up off
the evening sea. My
wind had awakened.

he pumped through
my veins in hot, red
bursts. blood pressure
rose in my face, blush.
Kellin Jan 10
cracked cement ramparts,
a less than mighty bastion,
  swamp cooler overflow,
   drool down the battlement.
    behind the stockade walls,
     faceless generals barked
      orders to their private troops,
       drilled their little soldiers.
           “welcome to my castle.”
       you call this a castle?
      heat throbbing off the
     parking lot convinced me
    to chance crumbling stairs.
   and there, step four, flight two,
  i bumped into my white knight.
okay, maybe more like gray.
i’ll compr with silver.
Oct 2018 · 350
Eyes Tell Stories
Kellin Oct 2018
but do they know how to craft fiction?
do they know how to spin
his eyes swear forever,
flatter with vows of only me.
but are they empty
i stare into his eyes, as
into a crystal ball, but
i cannot find forever,
movies of yesterday,
a sketchbook of today,
dreams of a shared
his eyes whisper secrets.
but are they truths or fairy tales?
i wonder if even he
Oct 2018 · 137
memory :
Kellin Oct 2018
i am so depressed
i can’t breathe.

i lightly trace your lips with my finger,
then intertwine mine with yours,
and ask
how long it’s been since i touched you that way.

you can’t remember.
Sep 2018 · 409
Kellin Sep 2018
has no meaning
when you’re living in the
moment. i wasn’t ready
for that moment to end.
Sep 2018 · 85
Tossing and Turning
Kellin Sep 2018
every lump in this mattress
a boulder against my back,
every wrinkle in the sheets
a two-by-four in my shoulder,

sleep denied by the fear
of what tomorrow’s visit
will bring. i squeeze my eyes
shut, try to focus instead

on the events of today,
find some relief, conjuring
her face. but then
visions of another face come,

black and white, frame by
frame, like in an old film noir.
dark, my love for her was very
dark, a source of secret shame.

i get out of bed, go to
the window, look out on
a surreal scene- moonlight,
and its muted glow, hints

of lacy flakes.
Sep 2018 · 270
Tick Tock
Kellin Sep 2018
through the thickening
the clock on my wall

tick-tock. tick-tock.
the passage of time

inhale. everything
exhale. the exchange

heartbeats mimic,
become erratic, stutter,

through the indigo.
gradual motion.
i drown.
Sep 2018 · 131
I Hate This Feeling
Kellin Sep 2018
Like i’m here, but i’m not.
like someone cares.
but they don’t.
like i belong somewhere
else, anywhere but here,
and escape lies just past
that snowy window,
cool and crisp as the February
air. i consider the streets
beyond, bleak as the bleached
bones of wilderness
scaffolding my heart.
just a stone’s throw away.

but she’s out there,
stalking me, hunting me.
i know she can’t get me
in here. besides, i’m too
tired to pick myself up
and make a break for it.
so i just sit here, brain
wobbling. tripping.
tripping on prozac.
Sep 2018 · 109
Afraid To Die Loveless
Kellin Sep 2018
i think if
you die

love in
this life,
that’s how


do you
think ****
is fiery?

i don’t.
i think
**** is
Sep 2018 · 237
I stumble off to bed
Kellin Sep 2018
But find no comfort
in its feathers and patchwork.
despite the wine and rich
food, breaking down into calories,
i feel cold, way deep inside,
and it’s the kind of cold
that can’t be fought

with Hollandaise or alcohol
or a pile of quilts. i wish i had
a joint. a big, fat, stinky j to slide
me into sleep. but no, all i
can do is lie here, brain
turning summersaults.
it’s nights

these when memories
stir, whipping themselves
into stiff peaks of pain. here
comes one now, materializing
like Daddy did that night.
the night he came to
me, crossed
the final line.
Sep 2018 · 604
Little Lies
Kellin Sep 2018
i took off all my clothes
looked straight at the mirror and repeated
i love myself
i love myself
i love myself
as if i truly believed it
like a stranger in my skin i imagined what other people see
the words blended together and melted like butter
my mind tricked itself into thinking i had never looked at my reflection and thought it was gross i made myself lie
and then i put my clothes on
brushed my hair
and turned off the light.
Sep 2018 · 144
am i just tired?
Kellin Sep 2018
i can’t tell if i’m
broken or not.
am i okay?
is thinking of ending myself
just a reflex
as this point?
a coping mechanism
that fills the space
that the absence of sadness
leaves blank.
do i want to die,
or do i simply
want to sleep?
am i just tired?
did i finally ***** and spill over?
am i empty now?
Sep 2018 · 88
our fingers interlock
Kellin Sep 2018
and it feels like commitment.
and that begins a tug-of-war
inside me.
i want to give her to give me all of her.
but that means returning
the priceless gift.
i want to open myself, let her inside.
but how do i give what has
always been taken?
i want to know what it means to be in love.
but in my dictionary, “in love”
is undefinable.
Sep 2018 · 396
She Believes That Too
Kellin Sep 2018
must be nice to have that kind
of unshakable belief
in  a merciful higher power.

i believe in a higher power,
but you can’t call
it merciful. no, not at all.

it’s the power of my father, all
will and rules and law,
and governed himself by

Deadly sins, chief among them
avarice and ****.
the only two that don’t apply

are sloth and gluttony. that last
one i lay claim to, and
before i go to work, i plan on

giving into it wholeheartedly.
Gluttony interrupted
leads to Gluttony, with a capital G.
Aug 2018 · 325
most people
Kellin Aug 2018
hate to *****.
can’t stand the protest
of an upset stomach, the heave
of bile and undigested food,
the carve of acid in the esophagus.
okay, i don’t like that part much myself.
but i do like the cool porcelain on
my face, the solid of tile beneath
my ****. most of all, i like my belly
emptied, even temporarily,
of food.
of fat.
of pain.
Aug 2018 · 109
do this, don’t do that
Kellin Aug 2018
i seriously despise the man, would do just
about anything not to obey him, at
least if i thought i could get
away with it or even that
the sure consequences
would be sufferable.
but when daddy
decides to make
you suffer,
it’s more
than any-
one can
Aug 2018 · 116
am i sick?
Kellin Aug 2018
my skin is hot. fevered. demanding
to be soothed. touched. satisfied.

have i gone crazy? i have never, ever
done such a thing. never unlocked
this private room inside of me. never
ever wanted to take a look inside.

am i possessed? entered by a demon,
chained and padlocked, inside of myself?
i feel possessed, taken by some evil,
sick desire. desire i can’t control.

what is wrong with me? i don’t want
this. oh god. it can’t feel good.

but it does.
it does.
Aug 2018 · 98
Memory Strikes Suddenly
Kellin Aug 2018
chokes me. strangled me.
it was dark in my room.
very dark.
someone had closed the curtain.
i was small. maybe nine.
mommy wasn’t home.
but daddy was.
he lurched through my door.
that scared me. but why?
he’d never hurt me before.
only touched me lovingly.
like any daddy.
so why did i tremble?
why did i catch my breath,
hold it, as if
i might never breathe again?
why did my heart feel
like a race-car engine?
daddy must have heard it.
                                  Don’t be afraid, little flower.
                                  It’s only me.
and almost instantly, daddy
made everything seem just fine.
even when it wasn’t.
Aug 2018 · 310
Actually, i’m hungry
Kellin Aug 2018
for more than moms affection.
my body is screaming for food.
and tonight we get the
real deal instead of
our usual fast

or flash-

frozen repast.
but any food is my
friend because it’s under
my control, unlike most of the
rest of my life. i eat when i’m sad.

i eat when i’m lonely. i eat when
i hurts so much inside, it’s
either eat or find an
easy way to die.
the only

time i

can’t eat to
total contentment
is when daddy’s around. “no
daughter of mine will wear double-
digit clothes”, he said once, and meant it.
Aug 2018 · 148
in control
Kellin Aug 2018
out of control.
sometimes they’re
the same thing.
the trick is knowing
that, realizing
it’s okay to feel
out of control
once in a while,
as long as
you’re sure
you can regain
the upper hand
when you
absolutely need to.
and really when it
comes to my
reclaiming control,
it comes down to one
simple little thing,
something i sometimes
have difficulty with:
saying no.
Kellin Aug 2018
daddy’s obsession
with my sister strikes at the
heart of me. but looking at it real
objectively, i think i understand. she’s
soft. pliable. gullible. it’s easy enough to
believe his declaration that should someone
root out his secrets, he’ll swallow a bullet.

you know, he just might, though i see him
as much more likely to pick up that gun
and shout mom, especially if he’s on
a ******. more and more of those
lately, both for him and for
me. my own obsession.
falling in to a state
of numb.
Aug 2018 · 353
Kellin Aug 2018
daddy fractured our world,
titled it off it’s axis, sent it
careening out of control.
that was before the day
his own impairment
made him overcorrect,
the mercedes onto unpaved
shoulder, then back
across two lanes of traffic,
and over the double yellow
lines, head-on into traffic.
that was before the one-ton
truck sliced the passenger
side wide open. that was
before premature death, battered
bodies, and scars no plastic
surgeon could ever repair.
yes, that was before
Kellin Aug 2018
is what’s normal for me.
i’ve got nice clothes,

nicer than most. Pricy
things that other girls would
**** for, or shoplift, if they

could get away with it.
i have a room of my own,
decorated to my taste

and most of the time
when i’m home, i
hang out in

there, alone. listen to music.
read. do my homework.
what more could a girl ask

for, right? i mean,
my life really isn’t so bad.
is it?
Aug 2018 · 104
There’s Daddy
Kellin Aug 2018
who comes
home every
day, dives
straight into
a tall amber
bottle, falls
into a stone-
walled well
of silence, a
place where he can tread
the suffocating loneliness.
on the surface, he’s a proud
man. but just beneath his not-
so- thick skin, is a broken soul.
in his courtroom, he’s a tough
but evenheaded jurist, respected
if not particularly well liked. at
home, he doesn’t try to disguise his
bad habits, has no friends, a tattered
family. a part of my despises him,
what he’s done. what he continues
to do. another part pities him and
will always be his little girl, his
devoted, copper- haired daughter.
his unfolding flower. but enough
about daddy, who most definitely
has plenty of secrets. secrets mom
should want to know about. secrets
i should tell, but instead tuck away.
because if i tell on him, i’d have to...
tell on me.
Aug 2018 · 110
I so do not deserve him
Kellin Aug 2018
he is
Mr. Perfect
and i’m a perfect
*** to have ever, for
even a moment, believed
we could even resemble a
real couple, in real love,
like such a thing exists
beyond media-fed

he says
he loves me
and he’d never lie
to me, not on purpose.
but would he love me if
he knew my secrets? i go
from Chopin giggles to
a Chopin breakdown,
steeped in Chopin
Aug 2018 · 139
My parents aren’t real
Kellin Aug 2018
parents anyway. they’re cardboard
cutouts. i mean, aren’t
parents supposed to care about their
kids? care for their
kids? not abuse them or use them or
lose track of them.
and aren’t they supposed to care for
each other? not use
each other or lose the love that was
once central to each
others existence. not toss each other
aside because life
three a curveball their way, even if it
was a major curveball.
no wonder i’m a little paranoid
about giving away my
love. what if i go ahead, give it, and he
decides to re-gift it?
Kellin Aug 2018
do you or don’t you have a girl-
friend? if you do, is she prettier
than me? if you do, do you
sleep around on her?
if you do, would
you sleep with me?
even if you don’t
have a girlfriend,
would you pretty
please sleep with
me? have you ever
slept with a student?
if you have, was she
prettier than me? even
if you’ve never slept
with a student, would
you pretty please sleep
with me? is this over-
whelming attraction
really mutual, or
is my believing
that just a sign
of impending
insanity? is my

lunacy on the
horizon, or is
it already here?
Aug 2018 · 99
This Sin.
Kellin Aug 2018
It always comes by night, that scratching, punctuating a string of silent hours
My skin crawls with cold anticipation.
You're always then same.
Some night you moan
Some nights you beg
Sometimes you bite
Guilt sits like a hot stone in my stomach
Misery wears your skin
What weight you've cast
On me,on you, on us
This sin.
Aug 2018 · 469
It’s probably weird
Kellin Aug 2018
to think about an addiction
like it’s a sentient being,
but that’s how it feels.

like it’s something living
inside you. something
you can’t get rid of because
killing it means killing you.

i can’t really understand
addictions to drugs or alcohol.
things that control you.

but an eating disorder
is an addiction you control.
wait, is that paradoxical?
i prefer to believe not.

either way, i kick off my shoes,
slide along the tile and into
the kitchen, calming my genie

with promises. twinkies. ice
cream bars. Halloween candy.
***** the trick-or-treaters.
Aug 2018 · 106
there’s daddy
Kellin Aug 2018
who comes
home every
day, dives
straight into
a tall amber
bottle, falls
into a stonewalled
well of silence,
a place where he can tread
the suffocating loneliness.
on the surface, he’s a proud
man. but just beneath his not-
so- thick skin, is a broken soul.
in his courtroom, he’s a tough
but evenheaded jurist, respected
if not particularly well liked. at
home, he doesn’t try to disguise his
bad habits, has no friends, a tattered
family. a part of me despised him,
what he’s done. what he continues
to do. another part pities him and
will always be his little girl, his
devoted, copper-haired daughter.
his unfolding flower.
Aug 2018 · 121
i wish i could tell
Kellin Aug 2018
but to whom could
i possibly confess
a secret,

any secret? not to my mom,
who’s never around. a time
or two,i’ve begged her to

to give me just a few
precious minutes between
campaign swings. of course
it’s true
the wrong secret could take her
down, but you’d think she’d
want to hear
it. i mean, what if she had
to defend it? really, you’d
she’d want to be forewarned,
in case the international inquisitor
got hold of it.  does she
this family has no secrets?
the clues are everywhere, whether
or not she wants to
Aug 2018 · 96
Note to self :
Kellin Aug 2018
your life is not a stone;
it is clay.
you are a sculptor,
and you won’t be stuck here forever.
Kellin Aug 2018
you are the first drop of rain
after a drought,
the first blooming flower of spring.
you are a lover’s first kiss,
the feeling of shaky fingers intertwining.
you are the first tear of someone’s first broken heart,
yet you are the glue that puts it back together.

you are the warm gratitude of the thought that we are there in this planet at the same time.
Aug 2018 · 77
Kellin Aug 2018
i am so depressed
i can’t breathe.
i lightly trace your lips with my finger,
then intertwine mine with yours,
and ask how long it’s been
since i touched you in that way.

you can’t remember.
Aug 2018 · 77
stay king.
Kellin Aug 2018
keep certain music closer to you
than any person,
and know that you’re
entirely worthy
of using that music.

stay, king.
stay king.
Aug 2018 · 123
Kellin Aug 2018
i could leave you with this, seeing as though it’s relevant-

Don’t let the biting words and
sharp memories scar your thick
skin; remember your value always

                                                    good luck, friend
Aug 2018 · 159
no bad thing is forever
Kellin Aug 2018
there was a time
i used to think
a Persian sunset flushing pink
was beautiful-
now i prefer
say an old marsh
with ruffled fur and
stranded branches,
bleached and *****,
like antlers of some
mythic deer.

everything grows,
no bad thing is forever.
Aug 2018 · 97
what are you?
Kellin Aug 2018
you are two.
you are both warm & cold.
Bright nostalgia for a dark night.
you are dysfunction, like a numb limb;
you are alone but
still ecompassing
what it means to be human.
Aug 2018 · 92
Stupid Dumb Boy
Kellin Aug 2018
I am so mad at myself
I want to smack my brain across its face
The thoughts I think are so absurd
my hopes are higher than the stars
This must be why
I often find myself
Crashing down
With such
Aug 2018 · 87
Kellin Aug 2018
i wanted her.
in every ******* way that i could have her.

i wanted to own her just as much as i wanted to belong to her.
Nothing else compared to the way i felt when i was with her.

Nothing even came close.

She made me feel more than alive,
more than just breathing.

She helped me remember what happiness was,
and when i smiled with her it was real.

Every single emotion i never thought i would feel again.
Bad and good.

Kellin Aug 2018
i didn’t even think he would try.
i’d spent my whole life idolizing this man,
and the idea that he would ever cause me pain was something that had never crossed my  mind.

until now.
now that i could see the murderous look
in his eyes
and know,
without a single doubt,
that it was meant for me.

he wanted to hurt me
for what i was and who i loved,
that knowledge caused me more agony
than his hands ever could.

without a word
i knew that he was rejecting me.

hating me
for something that i couldn’t change,
something that
i didn’t want to change.

— The End —