We used to spend hours
driving around looking at houses and
I never understood why you went to
the middle class neighborhoods
with the big homes that all looked the same and
pointed to the ones with
heavy wooden doors and thick brick walls
and all the cars in the garage and
called them your favorite
until I heard your voice crack when you said
they just look so sturdy
and I knew that
your walls were rotting and
falling down and
your foundation was cracked and
your windows were shattered and
the ceiling was starting to
cave in and
you liked the
big homes with
heavy wooden doors and thick brick walls
and all the cars in the garage because
they were
strong
when you
weren't.

I feel myself growing distant
Further and further everyday
The shell I worked so hard to break through
Surrounds me once again
The blade it brings no comfort
Yet I feel no pain
Will I ever learn to love myself
Like I did yesterday

I am sorry.
I want everyone to know that this is no one's fault.
If anyone were to blame, it would be the universe herself,
and even that seems unfair.
She is trying to survive, just like the rest of us.
I am not sure where I will go now.
Whether it will be pearly gates
or eternal sleep
or a fire place
I am unsure,
but it is worth the risk to escape this reality.
I remember my mom holding me as I sobbed
because my best friend had been ***** and I did not save her.
My mother whispered like a lullaby into my ear,
there was nothing you could have done.
As if the fact that horrible things happen to innocent people
and there is no way to stop it
should come as a comfort to me.
I realize that this is just how life is
and if everyone else can live with it then I should be able to, too,
but I cannot seem to keep myself from trying to rescue everyone.
I am throwing myself into the ocean to resuscitate those seen drowning,
I am being swept out by the tide,
gagged by the salt water,
pulled beneath the surface by the ones I am trying to hold up.
Maybe I am weak.
Maybe I am too dense to fight the pull of gravity.
Maybe gravity will finally get what it wants
when I, in my brown box, am lowered as deep as this life can take me.
My spine is no longer strong enough to withstand this pressure.
I am breaking.
I am leaving.
I am gone.
I am sorry.

That first puff,
the first sip,
the burn in my throat,
light headed
and shaking,
another hit
another shot,
I remember when I promised
never.

I am not
the person I used to be,
I am not
a beacon of hope,
I am a shipwreck
and I can see
the smokestacks falling
into the sea.

Sometimes I have to
remind myself I am awake,
that this is not a dream,
maybe one day
I'll wake up
and it will be.

Do not look at me
like a sob story,
do not ask
for a happy ending,
there is no ending,
this is my life
and it is
ongoing
smoke bumming
***** stealing
blunt passing
cold turkey
relapsing
screaming
screaming
screaming.

Red ribbons
and markers on posters,
this is not
the person
I was
before.

Husband and housewife
He left every day
Came back at night
Wasted
She comforted him with
Laundry basket kisses
He yelled
He knocked a lamp off a shelf
She locked the bathroom door
Slept in the tub
Apologies over French toast
He left again
She swept the shards of glass
Under the rub
So maybe when he drug his tired feet
Across the ground
He would bleed like she did