tell me what keeps you awake at 2 am
whether it’s the girl who took the knife of her absence and stabbed it into your sternum
or the loneliness that swallows your skin

play the one song which releases the floodgates in your eyes
and let me listen to it over and over again
until i find which line makes your heart drop to your stomach

describe the story of your body to me
tell me of the invisible scars too
and with each detail you describe
i will make a map
so i know which road bumps to avoid
or which holy sites to fall to my knees and kiss the ground of

remember that
i wear a mask brimming with self confidence and an armor of words that are both easy to tear for they were thin like tissue to begin with
i am sensitive
taking to hurt the way a sponge absorbs water

do not hide me behind closed doors or keep me entrapped in bed sheets
when you walk past me, do not pull your hood over your head and avert your gaze
i need you to look at my eyes as if they illuminated the entire world
and kiss my lips as if they are what allow you to breathe

open the door.
bring me flowers.
because the only boy who did either was my 5th grade boyfriend

be willing to meet my family and friends
for they were the ones who created the marble statue whom you marvel at today

take note of how my heart is a reflection of myself
how she is too kind and will kiss the same man who tore her in two
so please do not say words which will make her wings flutter
if you are not ready to be the nest she flies to

let me know that me, as myself, i am enough
that i do not need to be a chameleon
dipping myself in new colors each day to please you

remember the little things about me
like how my first phrase i uttered was shut up to a man in an elevator or the delight i take in handwritten letters and mix CDs, or the significance of my first tattoo
because everything about you is being etched into the walls of mind
so that i can never forget

trace your fingers with a loving tenderness over my scars from the times i transformed my body into a crucifix
pinning my hands and feet onto a cross out of habit
thinking love was a word synoymous with self sacrifice

you must learn my language
know what zips my lips into silence
know the difference between when i want to give up versus when i will actually do so
and be there to hold me when the seams start to unravel

if you want me to love you
know that many have tried and failed
that people like me are not meant to be soft
if you want me to love you
know that to me
love is not a word you spit out of your mouth and juggle in your hands
you need to promise that our love won’t be like an hourglass
for my body has been disfgured enough from the times my chest turned inside out from the pang of abadonment
if you want me to love you
reaffirm my body is a kindgom, my heart is the treasure, and that i am your queen
paint pictures for me in what you do and say
telling me i am worthy to be loved, worthy to be kept, and worthy to stay

but if you really want me to fall in love with you
tell me what you see right before you close your eyes at night to fall asleep
and if you tell me it’s me
i will fall unfathomably further for you than i already have

can’t be sure.
can’t be sure.
can’t be sure that it’s dead until its heart is in your hand
can’t be sure that you’ve won until the competition is all dead,
hearts in your hands,
can’t be sure so don’t turn your back on the bodies.
can’t be sure(surety: n; the state of being sure
surety: n; certainty
surety: n; ground of safety
surety: n; is when it’s all over
when the moment is crumpled at your feet
and the guts of the present are clenched in your hands
like the trophy you’ve ached for since the past.
surety: n; is when it’s all over
when you bleed wax from the candles in your chest
and the ball ends so abruptly
chandeliers clinking over fallen dancers.
surety is when it’s all over,
the jig is up and the game has been played
and all the characters are dead on the stage
but the fool who gives the final line.
surety you’re sure,
because your hands have grown now so large,
rolling knuckles and long fingers
enough to hold all the strings
and now you know what they meant when they told you watch out for the puppeteer
[[it’s you, it’s you,
you’re the puppeteer and the malevolent god,
you’re the one that they told you stories about at night,
the one that pulls naughty children to bits
and laughs at the good children because how long will that last,
how long before you’re stealing and murdering and ****** and]]
surety you’re sure,
starving with a distended gut
the guts of the present too insubstantial when what you want is
to eat blind justice whole
surety you sure are pretty,
prettiest hangman i ever did see
a noose and a knot, we can waltz all night long,
sing me the convict,
the convict’s song
surety it’s sure to be,
surety it’s sure -
the universe has ways of getting what it wants,
has ways of dragging everything it hates
down to its gut
to rot and die at the bottom of the universe.
to rot and die in a pile of stardust.
survival’s a game and you’re losing fast,
but ******* if you’re going down you’re going down swinging,
you’re going down with cracking skulls
and you’ll take the world down with you.
surety you’re sure to leave
the world in a pile of stardust.
surety you’re sure to be
the killer in the operahouse:
the best and the brightest shot through the throat before they can sing the last verse,
because the end is always the worst part,
the conclusion where all the worries are ended because they never tell you how
the villain hung himself from loneliness.
the hero died purposeless with no-one to oppose.
so don’t end until you end it right
don’t end until you tell the ******* TRUTH.
death is not grand and ****** and beautiful.
death is the pathetic puff of stardust
stirred up by your last breath
as you rot and die in the gut of the universe.
surety you’ll show them how
the universe meant to die

and blind justice weighs your heart.)

i warned you about this
i told you, i told you
that loving a poet leads to nothing but heartache and regret
and ringing ears and fingernail scars scoring your chest
and you told me you could handle it just fine.
i warned you about this
i told you, i told you then
that a day would come when i would project everything on you
and you would feel the brunt of my emotional monsoon
and you told me you could handle some crying.
i warned you about this
i told you, i told you
that i hate you and your stupid ******* determination to keep standing even when the wind threatens to break your legs because the oaks that stand proud fall broken
and i hate you and your words that mean ****-all and actions that mean even less
and above all i hate you and your stupid ******* decision to love me because i hate me worst of all
and you told me nothing.
you asked me once before
why i listen to my music loud,
why i let strange men scream in my ears
and interrupt my rhythm with their own.
you asked me why i listen to incomprehensible words,
where’s the aesthetic appeal in
choked screams -
you asked why i let strange men scream in my ears:
it’s better than letting you whisper.
better than letting you murmur sweet nothings -
if the screams are loud enough maybe i won’t hear you anymore.
no lover can’t you understand:
“i love you” isn’t the right answer to “i want to be alone.”
no lover can’t you understand:
your love doesn’t prove anything,
except maybe that you’re dumber than i thought,
dumb enough to waste all your life on a straw girl,
dumb enough to breathe till death do us part into a ***** hurricane.
dumb enough to follow the ghost-lights into the swamp
even after they scream at you to turn back turn back before it’s all over,
but you choke on the swamp gas and the will-o-the-wisps
just scream themselves hoarse.
resolutions make you a better person and anything’s better than murderer -
this year i resolve to die like a sociopath
alone in my room with alcoholic  fumes,
fireworks like
twentyone guns.
this year i resolve not to **** you for being gullible enough
to love me.
i resolve not to **** you  for trusting me.
i resolve to choke on my own swamp-heart,
poison gas and roots.
yes i’m alive but i harbor death -
saprotrophs are my children,
scavengers are my brothers,
and i am just the moth too much like a maggot to be a
butterfly -
oh, but i’m an aurelian
you whisper soft because the screams aren’t loud enough.
pin me to the wall with your thumbtack thoughts
and wonder why i don’t come around anymore,
why i just sit with my back against the door so you can’t break in with your
butterfly net
and your light traps:
oh you know me so well,
a will-o-the-wisp seeks its own,
and my ugly moth wings seek self-immolation.
just leave me, just leave me
don’t spear my wings and preserve me forever.
just leave me, just leave me
don’t follow me into the ***** swamp.
just leave me, just leave me
i don’t want your help i don’t want your love i just want you to leave and save yourself cause i won’t ask you to save me
and that life raft can only hold so many words.
verses are heavy things and you don’t need an anchor where you’re going.
i warned you about this.
evacuate before you’re swept away
and the strange men scream in my ears.

that should be the name of a song
or a poem
or a memoir of a man who remembers nothing but
danger that passed him by,
ruffling his hair as it passed,
ignoring his pleas:
stay please stay please stay
i just want to mean something,
he would say
(that could be the subtitle
or the blurb,
something to draw the reader in; if floating bodies aren’t enough)
i just want to mean something,
and near-death experiences are the flavor of the day.
i’m not brave enough to do it myself,
i’m not a hero
or a villain,
just a lonely boy, undefined individual,
and your 350 teeth can help me mean
so much more,
350 individual teeth that float above my head,
falling out one by one as you bloat with seawater
(and here the first chapter would end,
here we would break for intermission,
audience smiling over martinis.
only 32 teeth, did some fall out?
too many maraschino cherries will do that to you.
too much sugar on the rim of that glass)
dead sharks in the current and none glance twice
i keep yelling but they just
deflect my bubbles,
and the surface swallows them like the heartless ***** she is
i keep yelling but they just move farther
i keep yelling but stay please stay please stay
i just want to mean something.
i just want some blood on my hands
is that so much to ask?
i just want some of my blood in the water,
to be a survivor
or a victim
(whichever gets more press coverage;
who cares about a memoir that nobody reads?
who cares about a memoir where nobody gets hurt?)
i just want shark teeth in my heart,
he would say,
i don’t want to make a mark on the world,
i want the world to make a mark on me.
that should be the name of a song
or a poem
or the eulogy of a boring man.

Clear off the bed
and come lie next to me
or lie with me
or crawl under these sheets
and die with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clear out your mind
and sink down low with me
or get high with me
or hold my hand
and lose some time with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean up your act
and fall apart with me
or fall, apart from me
or fall, a part of me
and take some time to cry with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean out your car
and run away with me
or run to me
or put it in reverse
and go back to the start with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Cleanse your spirit
and embrace this pain with me
or brace for pain with me
or take a moment to put me back together
and just be with me, with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could still get used to this

Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.